The business of writing
So I sit down to write this piece about what keeps me from writing the things I want to. I know precisely what I’m going to write. It will be funny, incisive and brutally insightful. I’ll start with something rather reflective. Then I’ll elaborate into something typically self-deprecatory. I bet that will get the chuckles. Finally, I’ll end on a positive note. About being focussed and how to keep the fire burning against all odds and stuff like that. I should be able to wrap it all up in say, 500 words tops. And once I’m done, I’ll treat myself to a lovely bar of chocolate. One of those with 70% cocoa. Fair-trade and organic, obviously. At nearly 400 calories to a bar, I need all the guilt off-setting I can afford. I remember that hideous woman on TV telling some poor old overweight sod that he would have to power walk for 5 hours to burn off all the calories from his curry dinner. I wish he’d burnt off some of the calories by smacking that obnoxious, self-righteous bitch on camera.
Look at me breaking into a sweat at the thought of some silly tv show. I wonder if thinking burns up calories. All this thinking and writing business must use up some energy. After all, you don’t see very many obese writers, do you? I mean, look at that Rowling woman. All prim and pampered on the jacket of her book. Mind you, if you are the richest woman in England (some say the world!), surely you can get someone to suck all the fat out of you. Bet at some point in her life, she too must have sat at her desk like me and wondered about the book lurking inside her waiting to get out. Talking of which, I had better crack on. Now, where was I? Ah yes, something tragic-comic about writing. Oh! I think I have the perfect beginning. Which I will jot down. Just as soon as I investigate the dripping noise from the kitchen.