What I had to do was keep the story within certain limits of what was, of course, plausible.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
Once I've discovered the story, I might restructure it, maybe move things around, set up a clue that something is going to happen later, but that happens much later in an editorial capacity.
I always struggle with making the technical aspects of the plot fit with the story that's unfolding in my imagination.
Story and plot, not historical facts, are the engine of a novel, but I was committed to working through the grain of actual history and coming to something, an overall effect, which approximated truth.
There are some truths to some of the stories, but a lot of it isn't - you just have got to let it go.
On the one hand I wonder, Was this really my story to tell? On the other hand, I just wanted the story to be told. But the truth is that I didn't think anybody was going to read it.
You run the risk, whenever you build your story around a central mystery, of either letting it go too long, or revealing it too soon and then taking the wind out of the sails of the narrative.
I had the story, bit by bit, from various people, and, as generally happens in such cases, each time it was a different story.
It has always been something I could do, and it may seem odd that in my case I seem to create an interesting narrative and frustrate the reader's opportunities to follow it at every step.
No matter how close to personal experience a story might be, inevitably you are going to get to a part that isn't yours and, actually, whether it happened or not becomes irrelevant. It is all about choosing the right words.
I don't ever want to impose something on the story. I want the story to tell me.