Jessica's Ghost (14 page)

One of the great dividing lines among writers is between those who simply sit down and start writing – with no firm idea of where their story is going – and those who like to plan the whole thing out beforehand. They know what will be in each chapter (sometimes in each paragraph) and before they have penned the first sentence, they know
exactly
how the story will end.

I am definitely in the planning camp, though I have a sneaking admiration for those who dare to launch into a story, writing thousands of words, in the simple trust that their artistic intuition will eventually ensure that all the threads come together in a satisfying resolution. It’s a technique, I know, that produces the best as well as the
worst of writing, but I only tried it once myself – and this book was the result. I started with the idea of a girl who was dead (without knowing why) meeting a boy … and just took it from there.

I was halfway through the book before I discovered how Jessica had died and then, suddenly, the fact that she had befriended Francis, Andi and Roland made alarming sense. I say ‘alarming’ because this was not my sort of story at all. I write comedy really – light comedy – and this whole topic was way, way too serious for someone like me. It wasn’t as if I knew anything about suicide in the first place …

It took ten years for the story to achieve the form you can read in this book. It helped, more than anyone not in the business can know, to have an agent like Hilary Delamere to nudge it into an acceptable form – to have an editor like Bella Pearson gently pointing out the bits that could do with a bit of a rethink, and to have the legendary David Fickling firing you up with his extraordinary enthusiasm. There is something about working with such very classy people that makes you up your game. I
still have the umpteen earlier drafts on my computer as painful evidence of how much their help was needed.

As I said, I have never contemplated suicide myself, but I do know a bit about depression and, for some years, had regular visits from what Churchill called the Black Dog. At such times, I was immensely grateful for the presence of those who were prepared, patiently, to stand beside me until the clouds dispersed and the sunshine returned. And even more grateful to those, like Jessica in this book, whose mere presence was a constant reminder that, even at its darkest, life is full of possibilities and that, yes, miracles can happen.

And do.

Andrew Norriss

Chilbolton, 2014

Archie’s Unbelievably Freaky Week

I Don’t Believe It, Archie!

Aquila

Aquila 2

Ctrl-Z

The Portal

The Unluckiest Boy in the World

The Touchstone

Bernard’s Watch

Matt’s Million

Woof! A Twist in the Tale

Woof! The Tale Gets Longer

Woof! The Tale Wags On

www.andrewnorriss.co.uk