Dear 38 year old me,
Hi, how’re you doing? Well, I guess you’re resting right now. If all things go to plan, then you’re due for a pretty big year ahead of you. There’s the new book coming out, Fluff. There’s another book to write. You’ve got a massive new Avengers movie and the first female Doctor Who to look forward to as well. I just wanted to take this opportunity to wish you luck and send on your way with a little advice.
I’m not what you’d label as faithful. I loaded myself up with a heavy dose of cynicism as a kid and it stops me from comfortably believing most commonly accepted miracles. Although there are some things in this world that can catch me off guard. Things that appeared to have reached in from beyond the beige walls of our rather ready salted existence. Great inventions. Scientific breakthroughs. Moments of hope or moments of true charity. Great works of art or music that can grab you by the soul.
Read MoreOkay, okay. The rewrite is moving into the home stretch. It really is. I'm pretty sure it is, only it’s taking longer than I wanted. It was meant to be finished this week and the delay has not been too good for my nerves. For my attention span. For my patience. It’s been a week of feeling defeated by my own story, but I'm pretty sure victory isn’t too far off now. Next week. I’m pretty sure it’s going to be next week. I hope it's going to be next week.
So, as I make a push to get this final, final, final draft finally completed I thought I’d use this week to share something with you. As things stand, what follows are the first 900 or so words my second novel will start with.
In more ways than I can really express right now, I hope you like it.
Sit down. The show’s about to start.
What’s that? How am I?
We probably don’t have time for that. I’m still rewriting the new novel. Taking it apart. Clearing out the problems and the pretentious ideas. Rebuilding it into something that will hopefully attract more readers and sell better.
I mean, you’ve got to get your kicks somewhere, right?
Step right up, Ladies and Gentlemen. Here it is, hot off the press (depending on when you're reading this). This is the second ever story sketch on The Blank Page. Instead of a long and rambling blog, Long Words proudly presents a short piece of strange fiction for your delectation. We hope you enjoy it. If only because there will be more.
Read MoreThere’s about to be a change on The Blank Page. Don’t worry, it’s nothing major. I’m not about to start blogging only in Wingdings or turn this whole thing into a either raging diatribe on why I should run the world or why old Thomas the Tank Engine will always be superior to its modern incarnation. Although, for the record, I think I’d make a pretty good world leader. But don’t we all, right?
Read MoreThere really is no surface quite as slippery as the blank page. Which is not great when you consider we’re completely surrounded by them at this time of year. There are blank calendars wherever we look, showing all those unwritten days we’re going to fill, whether we like it or not. I hate any new calendar or diary for that. They always seem to offer undiscovered territory. Yours to claim. They’re a map of potential, in that moment you open them, at least. Of course, once you finally start using them, all you really mark down are trips to the dentist and occasional family gatherings.
Read MoreI’ve never been a career chaser. I’ve worked in post rooms, telesales, technical departments, shops and kitchens, but none of those jobs have ever been about earning a pension. Nope, I’ve always been there to pay some bills and make my bank account look a little healthier. The carrot the world tied to the end of the stick it chose for me was never a gold watch. Which is why, every so often, I find myself in a room full of people having a meeting where the best I can hope to do is look interested. During those meetings, I always catch myself looking around the rest of my fellow captives, trying to spot anyone else doing the same as me. Sadly, it seems we’re a dying breed.
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