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There's a writer in me somewhere
Sep. 7th, 2009 10:47 amI can tell stories. I can write in a witty, engaging fashion. I can be a self-obsessed wanker.
What I can't do is write a novel. Well, not a good one. I've had several goes and the only one that was halfway reasonable was written in ten days and shows it. There's a small problem with the end, and the whole thing is quite ridiculous. Not to mention the dreadful characterisations.
There's an idea going through my head. Maybe I can make some money out of it. Maybe I can fall flat on my face.
I've been thinking of fiction writing projects, ever keen to hang my own life as a taxidriver out for people to see. There's some fascinating people I meet on my daily rounds, there's the city of Canberra (no other city like it in the whole world, I tell my passengers) as a character, there's the funny or interesting things I hear.
And there's the wicked thoughts in my head. What would happen if this passenger met that one? What if that book accidentally left in the cab was found by another passenger? What has that man got in his bag, and what is he going to do with it once his house door closes?
Charles Dickens and Alexander McCall Smith have made the serial novel an art form. I'm no Dickens or Smith, but I can pour my stories into the mould.
Like the greats, I'm aiming for a thousand word chapter each day.
OK, hop in, buckle up, now where are we going?
What I can't do is write a novel. Well, not a good one. I've had several goes and the only one that was halfway reasonable was written in ten days and shows it. There's a small problem with the end, and the whole thing is quite ridiculous. Not to mention the dreadful characterisations.
There's an idea going through my head. Maybe I can make some money out of it. Maybe I can fall flat on my face.
I've been thinking of fiction writing projects, ever keen to hang my own life as a taxidriver out for people to see. There's some fascinating people I meet on my daily rounds, there's the city of Canberra (no other city like it in the whole world, I tell my passengers) as a character, there's the funny or interesting things I hear.
And there's the wicked thoughts in my head. What would happen if this passenger met that one? What if that book accidentally left in the cab was found by another passenger? What has that man got in his bag, and what is he going to do with it once his house door closes?
Charles Dickens and Alexander McCall Smith have made the serial novel an art form. I'm no Dickens or Smith, but I can pour my stories into the mould.
Like the greats, I'm aiming for a thousand word chapter each day.
OK, hop in, buckle up, now where are we going?
