So You Wanna Be a Writer? ©
By Michael Casey
Well I’ve been out to Aldi, which is my daily
pilgrimage, I have to exercise every day and I have to eat so I combine the
two, see a man multitasking, I hope any female readers out there blow the screen
a kiss, ok you’ll just groan. I went to the pharmacy to collect my next 2month
supply of meds. Over here its 8.40 an item, so 10 x 8.40 is 84quid. Luckily for
110quid I think, you can get a prepayment card which covers the year. I mention
this because over where you are in USA you have to pay through the nose. You
should get Trump to sort this out, now if he did I’d vote for him.
I’m waiting for the parcel man to arrive to
collect a parcel, some fashion item my wife ordered did not match her wardrobe
so she is returning it. While I’m waiting I’m listening to a Vangelis album,
and I’m wearing shades so my eyes don’t burn out in front of the screen. So I’ve
painted a picture for you, not forgetting the blue sky outside with a seagull
flying by high in the sky with roof tops twinkling in the bright winter’s
sunshine.
Now some writers write very descriptively,
blue skies and so on, it depends on what the writer likes to write. For school exams teachers like alliteration, and as I’ve
joked to my small daughter who is the writer in the family, alliteration is for people who cannot write, but very small
children do appreciate it. Crash, I just fell off my chair, though Thud would
have been more accurate, but I’m telling lies, for that’s what writers do, so
they’ll be the usual Thursday Night Confession for lying writers down our local
pub. If the priest is to be bored by all these writers’ lies then they can at
least buy him a pint of Stella Artois and a packet of cheese and onion crisps
to take home to his housekeeper.
See you have another picture now, firmly
printed in your mind, and printed is the right word after all, as words are
printed in books. And if you’re not quick with the confession then Fr.Brown
will slap you with the back of his prayer book. He has to be back in time for
the dinner or the housekeeper will sulk, so he only has time for 17 pints of
Stella Artois. Then he’ll watch Mrs Brown’s Boys on tv.
Again I’ve given you another picture, if I’m
doing my job right then you can see my priest, and I have several, there in the
Trader in Old Forge and Singing Anvil which is a real pub, it’s in The Butcher
The Baker and The Undertaker after
all.
So you wanna be a writer? Were you interested
in what I’ve just written, the prologue as Frankie Howerd used to call it in Up
Pompeii. If you were interested then I’ve shown you the first step of the
dance.
Engage your reader, your audience, your girlfriend, give her a ring, get
engaged, then make love to her. Writing is a courtship, a gentle kiss, a laugh,
food together, then bed and making love.
In the morning if you have no regrets, no
guilt, then you have chosen a good book from the library, and you’ll want to
read it again or read more books by the same writer. Either that or you and the
librarian have knocked all the shelves over during a night of passion in the
library.
Now if I’ve done my job right you are smiling
and you may have even decided to visit the library or go to a book store or
just the kiosk in the street. Words can
capture your imagination, and lead you astray, words have power that’s why the
printing press was the greatest invention ever. Just make sure if you do fall in
love with the book seller that you take precautions, lock the door, but most of
all have a book marker ready so you won’t lose your place. And that could be a
metaphor, it’s all up to you, if you wanna be a writer, just leave a few clues,
and don’t be front page news.
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