I’ve just quit my job, how about you?
Actually I don’t leave for another six weeks, long enough to think about how I’ll be unemployed and no one will want me and my family will go ha ha, and of course I’ll discover that actually I don’t really want to write (another) novel, I just like pretending that I do. And in any case EVERYONE who has a keyboard wants to write a novel. Maybe what I should write is other people’s biographies instead, I’ve been asked to often enough. It seems like every third boyfriend reckons his life is worth a book and wants me to somehow channel him into a literary masterpiece – without actually writing me any notes or telling me stuff or anything like that.
Maybe they think ghost writers really are ghosts and therefore know everything about the lives of the living and don’t need to be told the details. I think I’d like to biographise people. If only I’d paid more attention to those lovers, instead of just lying around in bed having sex with them. For instance, I had a lover who spent years in a refugee camp in Kenya – along with millions of other people I guess but then THEY didn’t have great writers to write up their stories. If only I’d got out a tape recorder and got him to go through the interesting bits. Not that there were any greatly interesting bits – it’s just that to him the experience was intense. The bits I remember him telling me were mainly about women who offered to take all their clothes off for extra food. One of them did it once too often and got Aids, he told me – a great pity, as she was outstandingly beautiful. But then so was everyone except me.
The main thing writers need – apart from a small amount of talent – is drive. That’s what they say again and again. 90% perspiration and 10% inspiration. Or is it 1%. Whatever. The moment of truth is about to arrive in six weeks!