We all have something in common. We were once terrible writers. Perhaps you’re a terrible writer now. Perhaps you’ve never even tried. Perhaps you were a terrible writer last week, but have been something approaching genius since last Thursday. Most of us never find out. We should, though, because there’s a lot of value in bad writing.
Ten years ago, we had woefully little to get truly offended about. There was little pleasure to be had in face-to-face confrontation, given its general ickiness and constant threat of physical violence. But now we have LOADS to get offended about, every day of the week! Whoever says that things aren’t better nowadays obviously just doesn’t have enough friends online.
We can’t get enough of these modern historical TV dramas! Such feisty heroines! Such swashbuckling storylines! Such bosoms! Seriously, there are bosoms everywhere! Wouldn’t it be fabulous to have such excitement in real life?
But hold on a second… what would this mean for your olfactory well-being? Your ultra-modern duplex? Your HONOUR?
I have some things to tell you. They might even be interesting. However, none of these things would warrant a full post on their own, so I’m employing a cunning and never-before-seen trick of grouping them together. Today’s post concerns political tactics and vote-bashing; the Dublin Writer’s Conference; the fiction of literary fiction, and why it’s SO difficult to be right all the time.
Ever feel like nobody’s listening to you? Ever feel like nobody understands how you FEEL? Well, maybe you need to get yourself a Women’s Fiction Husband (TM). They’ll understand you right off the page. Every home should have one!
…Or should it? What would this mean in terms of arguments? Spontaneity? Your couch? Your KITCHEN?
It’s time you stopped blaming that book you wrote or recommended for the fact I didn’t like it. It’s time you started blaming me instead. With a little help from quantum physics, I explain why loving any book is a miracle, why my bad mood became your problem, and why writing a book is like putting an unseen cat in a poisonous box.