I scribbled the following on a plane last year as I flew home to
It was intended to be a happyish, light-hearted piece but it had a twist and,
anyway, I can now see it in a different light. Aberdeen
Soon I’ll be home after a few days in
. Not my favourite city ( London is way ahead in
that race) but an exciting, fascinating place to be all the same. The
impression everywhere is that things are happening, people are on their way
somewhere. Even the Paris Trafalgar Square tourists and the Oxford Street
shoppers seem purposeful. Actually, come to think of it, maybe that’s why I
Over there, they stop and sit sipping coffee and Pastis to watch the others go
by. I know it’s a cliché but they do linger over seemingly endless lunches and,
rather than try to catch up with time, they’re savouring it as it passes.
It suits my preference for languor over
Having said which, one of the reasons for my trip was to meet with a publisher to discuss writing a 100,000+ word non-fiction book. It’s an interesting, challenging project and, unlike with fiction, there’s a guarantee of publication (unless I make a complete mess of it all). It means setting aside the languor and working full time to meet the deadline. I have no idea what’ll happen to the blogging, tweeting and all that stuff, but with days filled with solid writing, I think I’ll need some trivia to keep me going.
So this was supposed to be a relatively straight, informative posting, but the notion just came to me that this writing business fits into all the superhero stereotypes. People such as Billy Batson and Clark
their ordinary lives, lost in the crowd. Suddenly, duty calls and, with a quick
detour to a phone box (harder and harder in these days of mobiles/cell phones)
or a cry of ‘Shazam’, they’re transformed into an extraordinary being. And so
it is with writers. Kent
There they are tweeting, trying to remember the lead singer of some forgotten 70s group for a Facebook challenge and generally behaving like all the more or less adequate mortals around them when suddenly they get the tap on the shoulder from their muse, agent or publisher and Blat! they morph into creators of new universes, using their powers to help others escape the mediocre. Only when the job is done do they switch off their power source or put down their pen and disappear back into the humdrum.
Trouble is, it takes Captain Marvel and Superman maybe twenty minutes to stop Jupiter crashing into the McDonald’s where some 5 year old kids are celebrating a birthday party, whereas the poor writers have to keep it up (and you can choose any of the double entendres you prefer at this point) for months.
And that was it. But here’s the twist I mentioned. When I got home and opened up the emails, there was a nice, polite message from the publisher saying it would be good if the book could be finished by the end of the year. Instead of the eight months I’d expected, I had just under four. Needless to say, I indulged in self-pity, moaned about the demands placed on the artist nowadays, and all sorts of similarly precious stuff. But I finished the book in time, the word count was closer to 80.000, and the feeling of achievement was very satisfying.
It also shattered the idea of the comparison with the superhero. They don’t whinge. Did you ever hear Superman begging Lex Luthor to take a time-out?