I try to have a general idea where I’m going, and think about some scenes or moments that I want to put in. But I’ve found – for me – there’s no point planning too thoroughly before I start writing, because once I get going, the characters seem to make their own demands about what should happen, and how they’ll respond. Very often, the story heads off on a different track pretty quickly, like a runaway train. That feels fun and exciting, although sometimes it does mean that the story ends up going off the rails completely. Then I have to figure out what went wrong, and fix it. Occasionally I have to start again. Actually, if I’m honest, more than occasionally. I have never got it right first time.

Not always. Most often I do start at the beginning, but pretty soon I’ll have an idea for another scene that might fit in further on, and I’ll break off to write that – especially if I’m struggling with the scene I’m working on, or can’t figure out how to move on. That usually helps me to get unstuck. Many things that I write, including scenes I really like, don’t end up in the finished book, just because I find they don’t actually fit in after all. I feel sad about that. I carefully tuck them up in a folder labelled ‘unwanted scenes’ in a dark cupboard of my computer, and then I close the door and tiptoe away.

All sorts of places. The UK has many town and village names that sound to me like people. Ainderby Miers, for example, in North Yorkshire. Bickley, in south-east London. I love browsing a map to find more. Some names are just combinations of words that seem to suit the character, like Ma Yeasty, or are the opposite, like Miss Happyday. And I borrowed a couple of names from friends. Actually, just realized I haven’t given those back yet. Hopefully they’re getting on OK without them. Or maybe they’ve given up and found new ones. Sorry.

Honestly, it’s a mystery to me. I wish they would come while I’m sitting at my computer, but usually I will get a good idea for a plot, or a scene, or a bit of dialogue, at extremely inconvenient times. For example, when I’m just dozing off to sleep, so I have to wake up properly and write it down, because I won’t remember in the morning. When I’m out for a run. When I’m playing the piano. In the middle of a funeral. While tightrope walking across the Grand Canyon. If it would be really awkward to get out a notebook and pencil, then that’s when I’ll get the idea. I am trying to train my brain to do this more reliably, like how you train a puppy to poop in the garden instead of in the house. It’s not going well. A good way to think of story ideas is to ask yourself ‘What if?’ questions. What if my piano were a time machine? What if my dog were an alien? What if the Prime Minister unknowingly turned into a vampire every Thursday for six minutes? Then you need to think about the consequences and implications, and build your story.

Well, thank you for saying that – I’m glad you think so. But the truth is, different people find different things funny. Some people like rude jokes, and that puts other people right off (and, by the way, children have as wide a range of tastes as grown-ups do). So you’re never going to please everybody. The important thing is that you write what you find funny, and if you do that, you can bet that at least a few others will chuckle at it, too, even if one or two sit there with their arms crossed and lips pursed. Your sense of humour is unique to you, and the trick is to help people see what you’re seeing. I don’t actually write many of what you would call ‘jokes’. Here are a few things I like doing, which you can try out:
● Put characters in situations for which they are completely unsuited: batman in a retirement home; an eraser at a school for pencils; a health-and-safety inspector given an incredibly dangerous mission. They’re going to have to learn some new skills during the story, and that’s called character development.
● Put unrelated words together to create a bizarre image: a spherical sheep; adventurous custard; a priceless bogey; a musical slug; a villainous biscuit.
● Make characters misunderstand each other. There is a famous example of this, by the comedians Ronnie Barker and Ronnie Corbett (The Two Ronnies) – a sketch called ‘Four Candles’, which you can look up online. Homonyms (words that sound like each other but mean different things) are great for this.
● Have things get out of control for your characters. Then make it worse. See how crazy you can make the situation.
● ‘Drive-By Humour.’ By this I mean slipping something funny into a sentence and not making a big deal of it but moving on. A pun, or other wordplay. Some people won’t notice it, but others will. Not all humour has to be ‘laugh out loud’. It can be a secret smile.
● ‘It’s Going Right Over My Head.’ Have another character nearby who is completely oblivious to something funny that’s going on, or who doesn’t see why it is funny. For some reason, everything is much more amusing if there’s a character nearby who doesn’t get it. Unbelievably, even you, the author, can be that person, odd as it sounds – just narrate something comedic, but in a serious way, pretending that you don’t realize it’s funny. Then the reader can laugh at you. And you can laugh at yourself not laughing at yourself. Deep. For example, maybe there are two people having a staring contest, but you write about it as though it’s a serious sport, like at the Olympics.
● One last thing: never be cruel. You want to make people laugh, but not at the expense of anyone crying.
If you try out any of these things, I’d love to see the results! You can contact me through this form or on Twitter or Instagram (buttons at the bottom of this page)