Okay, I know it’s not Tuesday and that is the whole point of this post. Please forgive me (or send your strongly-worded letter to the White Star Line slash Points of View)
They say if you have to get up in the dead of the night and write something down, you never forget it.
It’s a bit like that when someone you’ve never met before saunters into your head, grinds a fag out with a worn winklepicker and says: “There’s a hole where my heart used to be. My name’s Nate, by the way. ” (Or howdy, or hi, or greetings or whatever salutation suits). *watchthisspaceforanewsaffinadesforgeseries*
Can you imagine how J.K. felt when she made the decision to kill off Harry?
Actually, she probably felt quite relieved… if you’re not a writer, you won’t get this. Sorry, don’t mean to exclude you from this conversation, but it’s true. Might as well leave now… 😉
Still here? Good. That means that you’ve earned your rite of passage (or you’re a bit wrong in the head).
So, where was I? Oh yeah, what to do when people that don’t exist take over your life.
It doesn’t matter how good you are at writing/explaining stuff/drawing with words, you cannot tell a muddle (that’s writer-talk for people who don’t write) what it’s like to live with voices in your head. You have no idea how it feels to close your eyes and know that when you sleep, all you will do, is borrow another persons’ life for eight hours (insert numbers here) and wake up and put it down on paper. FACT.
I tried explaining it the other day. #epicfail.
You see, as much as you muddles pretend to get it – you don’t.
I wouldn’t want to live with a writer. I wouldn’t want to live with a serial killer either, but sometimes, I think it’d be easier.
I’m sat here, at my desk (my favourite place in the world. Bar none) pondering an analogy. There isn’t one. But if there WAS it’d probably be something like that advert for colds.
Now I know how Damocles felt.
This week has been tumultuous for me.
This blog post is my therapy… some take drugs; Some pinch cars and drive them at breakneck speed.
Some assault a leather bag hanging from the rafters.
Some go out and do unspeakable things.
Me? I hammer my keyboard.
The greatest football manager that ever lived retires tomorrow. I am bereft.
I guess this post is in honour of him. It’s my tribute.
I’m also putting my dollars on the fact that he’ll never read it. Do you know what? It doesn’t matter.
The fact that I wrote it is enough. The fact that one person churned my gut enough to make me want to mention them, is testament to the legacy that he has created. And as much as you don’t know how it feels to be a writer, you also don’t know how he will feel on Monday when he opens his eyes…
It’s a bit like shutting the voices up. It’s a bit like confining someone you don’t know to the annals of time. Put them in the well and let them scream and shout and claw their way out, but they will never really be quiet.
THAT is how SAF will feel when he walks into Old Trafford and he isn’t in the red Recaro seat. They say he isn’t leaving – but he is. If he isn’t in charge, he might as well not be there.
THAT is also what it feels like to be a writer. Me and Sir Alex, we’re not that different…
I hate those books that tell you how to write a best-seller in 3 easy steps. (Please, Mand, stop me from ever writing one if I mention it).
I read a blog post the other day from a guy who was ‘jacking it all in’ because no-one paid for what he’d written.
You don’t do it for that. You do it because if you didn’t, you’d be dead.
Needless to say, I didn’t comment on his cyberic tirade. I think I have learned my lesson when it comes to not being able to undo what you have indelibly stamped on the twittersphere… I’ve also learned my lesson when it comes to characters.
The reason for this post?
Not because I have a point (I have ideas crashing around my head like blind-folded dodgem cars in the dark, 24-7), OR because I wanted you to buy a book that would make you rich in a nano-second, no.
The reason I write this: is because I fell back in love with writing. (again)
Karin Slaughter – Criminal.
Will Trent reminded me of how to write. Will Trent is a CHARACTER. If I manage to make someone (anyone) feel like that – ONCE, I will have achieved my goal: I’ve shot you in the head. And that’s one you won’t get over. 🙂
- ‘Tell it like it is’ Tuesday ~ April: Writers’ Room 101 (sapphicscribe.wordpress.com)