Ra Books!
Friday 9:30 p.m.
I've not long finished doing a wee bit of work on my book. Not wholly productive, but I enjoyed it.
I started writing City Whitelight when I was twenty six and it got published when I was about thirty four. Then I got another book published about ten years later, called Are You Boys Cyclists. That was published in 1997. I'm due another one. Once I used to think that no one wrote more than three good novels. Well, you could write ten good novels all kind of the same, if you know what I mean. Antony Burgess used to write different kinds of novels. I like that. It's clever. It would be nice just to be able to write one good one. Maybe I should get out a book about what a novel is and then I'd start with a better idea. You're always making it up as you go along. Even how to do it and I've written plenty of crap novels. You should always be able to do them badly a different way.
I reckon I've got about a year before the pain digs in from the part time employment. I could be a part time writer during this period and work like hell two and a half plus days a week. I've been working half time since a year past last August and most Thursdays and Fridays I meditated. That was not a waste of time. There lies ra bliss. I've just have to do ra bliss and the book, and just stay off the piss. Also, things are changing around here since the kid has gone. That seems to have freed up a lot of time.
I had a great time writing Are You Boys Cyclists? Of course, I did not expect it to get published, but the actual writing of it was most enjoyable. I'd never tried to write graphic sex scenes before. Well, not that graphic .... so I'm going to get into the whole writing this book thing. I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed it. I haven't had this much space to write in since 1981 when I spent a year on the dole. I've got a whole three days to myself a week. That's not been donning on me till right now when my thoughts turn to writing schedules. How long will this take me, etc.? And I could maintain this life of writing and ra bliss indefinitely just as long as I didn't spend any money or go anywhere. The best times of my life have been spent like that, usually on the dole. I don't know why I wasn't scared, but neither was anyone else.
I think I probably wrote my best prose on a typewriter. The technology changes the product. Is that Marx? Anyway, if you haven't much paper and have to make your own ink, you probably think a lot before commiting anything to paper ... anyway, with cut and paste I need a screen that holds four pages of text, not one. I need a big, high screen.
The worse thing I write in is this box. It's just all wrong. There's nothing right about it.
I seem to be coming down with a cold. Funnily enough, I haven't missed the beer. That shocks me. I was expecting to have trouble sleeping, sweating, nightmares. Shows how much I used to drink once. The home brew is deadly. You just can't tell! Anyway, God has given me the cold because I stopped drinking the beer. Because thou art saved, shall there be no more cakes and ale? I knew the beer was doing me good! So, God, if you'd just send me some money instead of giving me the cold, I'll have a few pints of Guinness with you or somebody very like you toute suite.
I've not long finished doing a wee bit of work on my book. Not wholly productive, but I enjoyed it.
I started writing City Whitelight when I was twenty six and it got published when I was about thirty four. Then I got another book published about ten years later, called Are You Boys Cyclists. That was published in 1997. I'm due another one. Once I used to think that no one wrote more than three good novels. Well, you could write ten good novels all kind of the same, if you know what I mean. Antony Burgess used to write different kinds of novels. I like that. It's clever. It would be nice just to be able to write one good one. Maybe I should get out a book about what a novel is and then I'd start with a better idea. You're always making it up as you go along. Even how to do it and I've written plenty of crap novels. You should always be able to do them badly a different way.
I reckon I've got about a year before the pain digs in from the part time employment. I could be a part time writer during this period and work like hell two and a half plus days a week. I've been working half time since a year past last August and most Thursdays and Fridays I meditated. That was not a waste of time. There lies ra bliss. I've just have to do ra bliss and the book, and just stay off the piss. Also, things are changing around here since the kid has gone. That seems to have freed up a lot of time.
I had a great time writing Are You Boys Cyclists? Of course, I did not expect it to get published, but the actual writing of it was most enjoyable. I'd never tried to write graphic sex scenes before. Well, not that graphic .... so I'm going to get into the whole writing this book thing. I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed it. I haven't had this much space to write in since 1981 when I spent a year on the dole. I've got a whole three days to myself a week. That's not been donning on me till right now when my thoughts turn to writing schedules. How long will this take me, etc.? And I could maintain this life of writing and ra bliss indefinitely just as long as I didn't spend any money or go anywhere. The best times of my life have been spent like that, usually on the dole. I don't know why I wasn't scared, but neither was anyone else.
I think I probably wrote my best prose on a typewriter. The technology changes the product. Is that Marx? Anyway, if you haven't much paper and have to make your own ink, you probably think a lot before commiting anything to paper ... anyway, with cut and paste I need a screen that holds four pages of text, not one. I need a big, high screen.
The worse thing I write in is this box. It's just all wrong. There's nothing right about it.
I seem to be coming down with a cold. Funnily enough, I haven't missed the beer. That shocks me. I was expecting to have trouble sleeping, sweating, nightmares. Shows how much I used to drink once. The home brew is deadly. You just can't tell! Anyway, God has given me the cold because I stopped drinking the beer. Because thou art saved, shall there be no more cakes and ale? I knew the beer was doing me good! So, God, if you'd just send me some money instead of giving me the cold, I'll have a few pints of Guinness with you or somebody very like you toute suite.
posted by Hotboy at 9:30 PM
3 Comments:
Oh Hotboy, sorry you are coming down with a cold. Drink some hot tea with a little lemon, and sleep. That is the best thing for you.
I hope you are feeling better, really I do!
Eric: The only good thing about writing is that anyone can do it! We're all hopeless at it!
HB - how true
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