Ghost writting

Let’s start with the biggest problem for anyone writing a ghost story: does your ghost actually exist? Maybe there is going to be some other explanation: the person seeing the ghost is going mad, or being driven mad by someone else. Perhaps the ghost is a manifestation of grief, or being faked by a criminal who will be unmasked when you whip off the white sheet like Scooby-Doo? You can’t fudge this one. Platform Seven by Louise Doughty review – a chilling tale of coercive control In the case of Platform Seven, I answered that question right at the start by having the whole novel narrated by a ghost – that of a young woman who has died on Peterborough railway station and finds herself trapped there until the mystery of her death is solved. That created other problems, though – what could my ghost do? Could she move objects, pass through walls? It’s surprisingly hard not to make a narrator-ghost appear twee. The minute your ghost talks about whisking from one place to the next, or floating along a pavement, they sound like Casper. Suddenly, there are a lot of verbs that can only be employed with the greatest of caution. The very best ghost stories get you to suspend your disbelief because whatever the nature of their manifestation the rationale for that ghost existing is entirely convincing: