What happens next? - Plotting and Planning

Okay, so you've got this amazing idea for a book and you dive right in and write until you run out of go. Then what?

You put it in a metaphorical drawer (usually a file on your computer) and forget about it? You leave it open on the desktop and worry about it? You come back to it each day, but don't write more than a few lines? You start to add to it, but it flounders because you aren't really sure where it's going? All writers have this problem - the story that's going nowhere. The story that's long on idea, but short on execution. You move on to the next idea. You might repeat yourself in an endless cycle of false starts. I know I have.

These days though, I finish everything I write - good, bad or indifferent - because finishing something allows me to move on properly.

Here's how I write now. I get a good idea, or at least what I think is a good idea, and I immediately pose it as a 'what if' question. For The Finish it was 'what if an 18th century prostitute woke to find a dead man in her bed?'

Then I think how will this look as the start of a book? What is she doing? Where is she doing it?

Next up I go straight to the end. What's happened by the end of the book? Has she survived? Has the situation resolved itself? If so, how?

Having envisaged the opening scene and the end scene, I decide which characters will aid her progress and which will cause problems. In Kitty's case it's fairly simple - without giving you the end, I need her to survive because she features in three more books. However, the situation is dire, with the possibility of hanging, if she is brought to trial and found guilty of murder. She lives in a brothel so we have the madam, Mother Shadbolt, and various other prostitutes. We also have a number of clients and the 'bully' on the door. A detective story is plot driven, as the character moves from one set of clues to the next. By its very nature it also requires twists and turns. A good 'who dun it' shouldn't give up the actual murderer easily. It should make the reader think.

All this said, any story can follow this kind of development plan. From beginning to end and join up the points inbetween.

Some people can write straight through, from idea to actuality. That's how I work, but I can only do it because, having been trained in scriptwriting for film, I've internalised the process and format. Some people need to map it all out. I would say, for safety's sake make lots of notes and plan, plan, plan.

Here's some bullet points to help you plot.

1. Have a great hook and make sure it's in the first five pages.
2. Establish the character's goal in the first quarter of the book.
3. Establish all the major characters in the first quarter of the book.
4. Know how your book is going to end.
5. Know what it is that will happen at the end of the first quarter that will propel the character forward into resolving the matter at hand.
6. Chart out the important points of the story on a timeline, taking caring to consider rising action.
7. Know what it is that will happen at the end of the third quarter that will begin to work towards the end of the story.
8. At the end, tie up all the loose ends - explain red herrings

Find The Finish here

Who is Kitty Ives?

Kitty Ives is the heroine of the Venus Squared series of books, the first of which is The Finish. In this article I discuss her family background and what brought her to work as a prostitute in London's notorious Covent Garden.

She was christened Katherine Ives, but her father preferred to call her Kitty. She was born in the ancient county of Norfolk, in East Anglia to a farmer and his wife, Joseph and Elizabeth Ives. They had two children, Sophie, born in 1744 and Kitty, born in 1746.

Joseph wasn't a particularly wealthy man, but he loved his family and provided for them as best he could until his middle daughter, Sophie, fell in love with a neighbouring farmer's son. Sadly, this young man was found dead, having been most foully stabbed. Sophie was accused of the murder, but although she was found not guilty, local opinion went against her and she was set upon by a mob, whilst walking from Church. She was dragged through the streets and suffered a thousand cuts and bruises. Sadly, Sophie fell into a decline and died from blood poisoning, brought on by the mistreatment of her wounds.

Quite naturally, the rest of the family were distraught, not least Joseph, the patriarch. He was the next to die, having had an attack of apoplexy. Today we would call it a stroke. This left Kitty's mother, Elizabeth, with something of a dilemma. She had never taken much part in the day-to-day running of the farm. She now had to take up the reigns herself, but in doing so she failed quite miserably to manage the finances and very quickly fell into debt. First the livestock was sold, then individual parcels of land, and eventually the farm house itself. Forced into rented accommodation and living on slender means, Elizabeth Ives found her Kitty employment as a maid in London. Kitty was put on a coach and sent on her way, but once at the coaching inn in London, she was waylaid by an older woman called Mother Shadbolt, who offered to look after her needs and see her safely accompanied to her employer's house.

On the journey across the city Mother Shadbolt fell ill and asked Kitty if she would mind stopping off at her house on the corner of Covent Garden and Russell Street. This of course, was the brothel. Once she stepped over the threshold Kitty was seduced by tales of fine clothes, parties and  riches beyond her ken. Thus, did our heroine fall from grace in quick time.

Kitty was only sixteen years old and had no more desire than to dress in the latest fashion and catch the eye of a handsome beau, and so she was soon persuaded to throw off her employer and remain with Mother Shadbolt, where she was promised her pick of suitors. At first, Kitty was showered with gifts and beautiful gowns and jewellery, but as time wore on and she tired off the life of easy seduction, she tried to leave the brothel and strike out alone, only to find that the clothes she wore were not gifts at all, the jewellery was all paste and she had not a penny to her name.

Now came a time of despondency for Kitty. She fell in with a riotous crowd and ended up being transported to America for the crime of theft. All this is discussed further in The Finish.

You can read all about Kitty's exploits in The Finish and in the subsequent volumes, The Surety, The Debt and The Trade. Collectively, they are called Venus Squared.

What's it all about, Kitty?

Shock Horror - Prostitute Kitty Ives in murder intrigue
READ HER EXCLUSIVE STORY 

The Year of our Lord, 1769

In which I tell of a man’s death.

In the dead of night when our door is locked against thieves, dogs and the devil in disguise, the moans of men come to my ears. Some promise themselves many times over, such is the nature of their lust. Yet when daylight seeps through the shutters, we whores are cast aside and our lovers go out into the fine morning as if bound on a journey to America. Well, I have been there; transported for the sin of thievery, though I found a way to return. It is a story I will tell in due course, for more recently I fought to keep myself from the gallows and I fear I am going mad.

William Westman. There, I have told you my tormentor’s name, though doubtless you will think him no tormentor at all.

At first I thought he was one of our usual gentleman callers. It was on such a night as this, cold and damp, with a hint of frost and the air abroad swirling with mysterious poisons. He entered our establishment through John Bradley’s gin shop, on the corner of Covent Garden and Russell Street. He offered a fortune; five guineas and a promise of more if I would let him use me until daybreak. Mother Shadbolt could barely contain herself and welcomed him across our threshold as if he was the prodigal son, her Bible clutched to her bosom with one hand while she pocketed his cold hard cash with the other. He smelled of hashish and ale, but wore well-tailored garments and clean boots. His face was soft and not a bit lined or careworn. I filled a dish and pressed an orange segment against my lips. He grasped me about the waist and kissed away the juice. I thought I saw a dark shadow at his shoulder, but thought little of it. Many men carry their ills thus. It is not for me to judge them.

I took him to my boudoir and asked what delights he had in mind. He did no more than raise my petticoats, sink to his knees and taste the region hidden from view. I gasped and pushed him away, pretending to be coy. Some men require soft words and innocence, while others prefer a harsher tone. Others still, need silence. They do the deed and are gone. I trusted I would not have to do more than was absolutely necessary, for I was tired and wanted an easy time of it.

My cully removed his wig. His own hair was fine and auburn in colour, and, for such a young man, receding a little at the temple. The fire crackled in the grate, casting a golden hue over our bodies. I judged him in need of kindness and poured two small glasses of gin, turned back the bedcovers, and beckoned him forth. He had, after all, paid handsomely, and I was obliged to perform until such time as exhaustion descended on him.

Westman reached out to stroke my décolletage with ink-stained fingers. I let slip my chemise and led him to the bed, whereupon he cosseted me with fine sentiment and laboured to give me pleasure, before satiating his own needs. In truth, I feigned my enjoyment. I had already been bedded that afternoon by no less than three men, the first of whom had brought me much satisfaction (he being a young buck with energy a-plenty), the second being a regular client whose needs were catered to by my pretending to innocence and he to my ‘first’ deflowering. The third was an elderly gentleman who often sleeps in our dining parlour. From time-to-time he relieves himself. It often comes to naught. I believe he enjoys our wit and the warmth of the fireplace more than anything else.

This then is what happened after Westman’s desires had been satiated: we fell on the gin, gave a toast to Venus, talked a little of his wish for literary success, and mine for financial freedom. He asked how it was that a seemingly educated gentlewoman, such as I, might find herself prostituted thus. I did no more than inform him of my father’s demise and our family’s fall from grace.

“A woman has three choices in life,” I said. “She may marry. She may become a servant, or she may become a whore.”

“And you became the latter? But why?”

“I had no dowry. My mother sent me to London to work as a governess.” I took my gin up and knocked it back in one. “Mother Shadbolt intercepted me. She promised me riches beyond measure. I was young and foolish.”

My cully laughed and topped up my glass. He was delighted to have found such an educated whore. As the night wore on we became more and more inebriated. You may find it hard to comprehend, but when I woke the next morning I was pinned beneath a dead man – and not just dead, but bloody and terrible. What could I do but scream and claw my way out from beneath him?  I was covered in his blood like a wild woman who has savaged and fed on a beast. This could not be. It could not. I would be blamed. They would call me a murderess. I would swing from the gallows. Few would stand up for me. I was no one.

READ MORE

The Finish is the first in a four part series, Venus Squared, by Angela Elliott. It tells the story of Kitty Ives, who is forced to investigate a murder, or swing from the gallows. Published by Crux Publishing Ltd. 

www.angelaelliottbooks.com

A woman has three choices

Covent Garden, long a centre for hedonistic pleasure, is a dirty melting pot of whores and harridans, aristocrats and artisans, actors and drunks. It is 1769 and these are violent times. Prostitute, Kitty Ives, takes a man to her bed and wakes to find him dead atop her. Fearing the gallows, so begins Kitty's quest to uncover the identity of the murderer. Will she be successful? Or will she be convicted of a murder she did not commit?

The idea for the series came from a play I'd written called Scratching Fanny of Cock Lane. Scratching Fanny was a 'real' ghost, and Cock Lane a real street near Smithfield. In the early 1760s Dr. Samuel Johnson was called to investigate the ghostly goings on. It was reported in James Boswell's Life of Johnson. 

I've written about the history of the Theatre Royal Drury Lane from the 16th century through to the present day. I've also written  about the 5th Marquis of Hastings, which was set in the mid 19th century, called The Pocket Venus, and I have also penned scripts about Alex Smith, who one of the Bounty mutineers. This was set at the beginning of the 19th century  and called The Last Mutineer. All were for TV/film. My book Some Strange Scent of Death was set in 1900, and the Cock Lane play, mentioned above, in 1763.

I chose the 1760s after studying the period carefully, and coming to a conclusion about the state of crime and prostitution in Covent Garden at that time.  It was an exciting period. The Fielding Brothers had established the first detective service in the Bow Street Runners. The Seven-Years War had just ended. There were riots in London over the influx of French silk workers. America was about to become a nation. Secret Gentlemen's Clubs abounded. Ben Franklin and others had made electrical experiments. Grave robbing was common-place. Captain Cook had just sailed for Tahiti to observe the Transit of Venus. King George III had ascended the throne, and more women wrote and published novels than did men.

 

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The Great Piazza - before and after

In the first picture we are under the Great Piazza arches. Kitty's house in The Finish is the one in the background on the corner. In real life this was occupied by John Bradley's gin shop (which features in The Finish) and above it by Mother Gould's brothel, which is the model for Mother's Shadbolt's brothel. In the second book in the series, The Surety, Kitty moves to a house in the Great Piazza, whose door would have been roughly where we are standing in this picture.

Here is that building in the background of the first picture, today. It's been rebuilt because in March of 1769 it burned to the ground (and we see that happening in The Finish). That said, they rebuilt it in the same style as the original. The buildings to the left of it in this picture are the original 18th century buildings.

The third picture shows the Great Piazza, Covent Garden as it is today - this too has been rebuilt.

What it was to be a woman in the 18th century

There have been times in my life when I have wished I had never been born female - not in a transgender way - but insofar as it has always seemed that men have the better deal. Despite the fact that women have more freedom in all aspects of life than ever before, men still don't appear to suffer the same societal pressures as women. The media certainly propounds the belief that women should look young, pretty, slim - all the time. Wear stylish clothes, have perfect make-up and hairstyle - all the time. Have a perfect home, stylishly decorated and furnished. Attract a man with cash, and aspire to a certain lifestyle. Achieve success in your career, have children, and juggle your family responsiblities.

No woman is perfect, but that doesn't stop us trying to be so.

Imagine then, that you are female and born in the 18th century. Society is patriarchal and misogynistic. Men run the government, the army, and all business.  If you choose to marry, not only must you adhere to all the society mores we have now vis a vis appearance etc.. (save the bit about a career) you have no vote, and are 'owned' by first your father and then your husband. When your father dies any inheritance you might come into passes straight to your husband. You simply have no money of your own. Interestingly, if your husband dies then you gain control over your finances until such time as you remarry, which is often why fairly well-to-do women chose to remain widows. This only works if you have no adult son. In this case, he inherits from his father and you are beholden to him. You must at all times defer to either father or husband, and later your son. 

You will probably have many children and have no recourse to the kind of care we now take for granted. You will give birth at home, in great pain. Like as not your child will not survive to five, let alone adulthood. If you are poor you will be treated like a drudge and have to work  like the proverbial devil to keep a roof over your head and food in your children's bellies or face destitution. The poor law existed to give certain assistance but only to dissuade you to make a claim on the parish and certainly not to help you survive.  You will have little or no education, but there is at least a chance that you will have married for love. 

If, on the other hand, you are rich, you will squander money on frivolity, but at least you will be able to read and write. Like as not you will have married to seal the fate of a family dynasty. Whether rich or poor you may be well treated or badly beaten by your husband. (Nothing new there then.)

There are two other options: you go into service and become a domestic servant, or you become a prostitute. Either way, you are doomed to live a hard life and suffer an early death.  As a servant you will be obedient, subservient, humble and hard-working. As a prostitute you will answer to your pimp or bawd, hand over most of your earnings to them and suffer disease and multiple abortions/births/miscarriages. A few prostitutes became noted courtesans. A few were either kept by their beaus as a mistress, or they married them. Almost all had syphilis or gonorrhoea. 

The only good thing about being a prostitute at this time was that if you were a fairly astute business woman you might be able to gain financial independence. You might be able to live a relatively comfortable 'old age'. At least the enlightenment had fairly free views on sex. One must maintain decorum, but behind this facade, anything goes. 

What then of our heroine Kitty Ives? Where does she fit in all this? Well, she comes from formerly well-to-do farming family in Norfolk.  When her father dies her mother has no income and cannot manage the farm on her own. Kitty comes to London to seek her fortune and is immediately preyed upon by Mother Shadbolt, who promises her an easy life of it, with clothes and balls and all the things a young girl might want from life. Of course what happens is that she is prostituted to pay for the things Mother Shadbolt supplies: the room Kitty occupies, the food she eats, and the clothes on her back. This then was the life of a prostitute. It has to be said, it still goes on to this day. Women enslaved into prostitution. 

For Kitty, the only way out is to meet a rich benefactor, or die. To find out what happens to her, you have to read The Finish - go to the website, and sign up for the newsletter. Be in at the start of The Finish.

The Devil's Own Handiwork

"I have experienced much hardship and been forced to view death on many occasions. I was therefore, not bothered by the corpse flies. Thankfully, the all-pervasive aroma of spice somewhat mitigated that of decay and corruption. All the same, I entered the room with my handkerchief at the ready. The man was frozen at the point of death upon the bed. There was much blood, all congealed and writhing with maggots. I could make out little else with the curtains shut and so I drew them open. When I turned I could hardly bear to view the putrefaction. He had died in an attitude of abject terror. His eyes were almost entirely eaten away and his mouth showed a grimace so horrific and his posture that of a supplicant forced to bend to another’s evil will, that I thought I looked upon the Devil’s own handiwork." Extract from The Surety, the second book in the Kitty Ives series. Kitty, an 18th century Covent Garden prostitute is forced to solve the murder or swing from the gallows.

Kitty's brothel now

I took this just before Christmas. It's of the exact building where Kitty Ives lived and worked as a prostitute in Covent Garden. Well, not the exact building because that burned down but this is a replacement in the style of the old building. Research has shown that this building was occupied in 1769 by, on the ground floor, John Bradley - gin distiller and shop, and a brothel upstairs. Next door on the Little Piazza was Lovejoy's bagnio, a portrait painter, and the Hummums Turkish Bath. In the corner was the Bedford Arms pub. After that came the privy passage which was gated through to Charles Street beyond. The London Transport Museum occupies the site now.