What Writing Means to Me ©
By Michael Casey
Well I tend to write every day now, it used to be 3 or 4 times
a week, now its daily, well almost. It took me a year to Learn how to write
properly if you like, back in 1987. Once I had finished writing my novel with
the catchy title of The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker I knew I had
cracked it. Then I wrote a play called Shoplife which was a comedy about a
shop, a store closing down, this was accepted for production by a professional
theatre, back in May 1989. So whatever negative words I might get from anybody
about my writing I know I’m good, if I allow myself to sound like an American.
So the question is what does writing actually mean to me? Well
it’s something I can do, it fosters my intellect, and no I’m not trying to be
pretentious, pretentiousness is the worst thing in the world as far as I am
concerned. By writing I am showing myself at my best, I can’t run fast like Hussain Bolt, nor be as charming as
George Clooney, I am his 238 pound look-a-like after all. Despite my Health
going down the drain these past 4 years, I am a Writer and I can still Write,
so it is proof I am still a Man, a weak useless man some may say, but can they
write like me?
Moreover I can tell a tale, I would say I’m a storyteller, I
make cartoons made from words. As I said to Lilley in the Coop the other day
when I had my photo taken by a nice Indian Lady, maybe my first ever fan photo.
Well I told Lilley that I am just a pointing signpost and let people think the
rest for themselves. I don’t want to be graphic, let people work it out for
themselves, a metaphor is more fun after all.
As Jill once said to me when she was not talking to Jack, you
lead people up the garden path. And so I do, I hope I lead them to laughter, and
as we all know Laughter is the Best Medicine. And yes like all comedy writers I’ve
seen or experienced loads of sad things, so the natural course of action is to
be the opposite. Writing works for me because I don’t know what I’m going to
write about till a minute before I start these short stories, so I’m only a
sentence if front of you the readers.
At the moment Poland seems to have adopted me, I loaded up a few
translations to my site and hey presto 18,000 readers in a couple of weeks. Why
I don’t know, I’m doing an experiment for a few days by removing the
translations and asking them to contact Fakt the Polish publication and see if
I get a column there in Polish translation. Probably won’t work but you have to
try don’t you?
Now the ability to tell a tale is the 2nd oldest
profession in the world after sex, somebody did something and there was somebody
who told the rest of the tribe of cannibals about it. The storyteller may have
become an after dinner speaker, in fact he may have been eaten for spilling the
beans. Writers become gods and have women throw themselves at them, hasn’t
happened to me, well maybe just song writers, or writers of self help books.
To create a story you are having mental sex, because you
create something from nothing, and you are left with a warm glow when you
finish and read back what you have written. I start a story and it flows almost
like pouring water from a jug, if you asked me just to verbally tell a story
without sitting here and writing it all down on the computer I may not be able
to do it as well.
The action of typing acts as a magic means of translating
thought and ideas into something more than words on a page. Yes I can tell a
tale if we meet in Aldi or even the Coop, but my best work is when I’m sat here
in my chair talking to you right now and putting all the words on a page. I don’t
know what I’m going to write next, it’s like a broken jigsaw in my mind and
when I type as I’m talking to you all right now the words form the jigsaw in
the right order, the picture is formed correctly on the page, as if by magic.
Some are saying it’s a “Gift” and then belittle me the writer,
but my journey started when I was 8 and out of fear of Mr Gallagher started to
read intensely, then 20 years of constant BBC Radio 4 listening, then 30 years
of writing, or rather the writer’s eye. I am very observant, or try to be so
when you add that all up its 50 years. So if I can’t tell a tale by now then I’d
have to be a Dunce or a Donkey. And the girls still don’t throw themselves at
me, so I must be a really rubbish writer.
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