Something to Pass the Time...

Greeting to those of you that have come forth to read a little of my ramblings. I wondered exactly what I would write about in these little columns (I don’t like the word blog very much, sounds like somewhere Shrek lives.) I thought I might go on about the writing process, but what is there really to tell? The debate around the creative process is one that can never really be resolved because we all do things differently. Some people plan their future works in great detail, sticking post-it notes all around the wall above their desk or carrying a notebook in their inside pocket to scribble things down for future reference. Some write the ending first so that they know exactly where the story is going. We all do it differently.

It will come as no shock to some people to know that my favourite writer is Stephen King. His books have had a steady influx into my reading schedule since I was fourteen years of age and my mother handed me a copy of Pet Semetary to read. Up until that point, I had a strict diet of Roald Dahl and Gene Kemp to feast my literary bones on. The moment I started to read Pet Sematary I was hooked, plunged into a world of dark horror, and new ideas about the human condition. It was a pivotal moment in my life. After that, nothing but the King would do. Whenever I hit the typewriter, I would emulate his work but fashion it into my own twisted tale.

King said about creative writing that it couldn’t be taught, that the only thing that you could do would be to “read a lot and write a lot,” something that I took to heart when I decided to give the whole writing game a shot. It’s true that if you don’t have a lot of love for reading then how on earth can you have any for the writing process? There are plenty of writers out there that have no love for reading, you can spot them easy. They’re the ones whose work is bereft of atmosphere, or depth, or colour for that matter and they want all the medals without putting the work in. In any case, I, just like my writing hero like to throw an idea around and see where it leads. I don’t plan anything, I only have the vaguest idea about where I’m heading when I start putting a new idea into play. I don’t carry notebooks either. When I’m out and about, I like to be present in the moment, not constantly in ‘writer’ mode, otherwise I become an insufferable bore. Besides, if I see something or hear something and it catches my attention, it is like a seed being planted into the soil. Sometimes it starts to grow, and sometimes I add water to try and encourage it. Sometimes I let it wither and die when it is clear that it isn’t going anywhere.

Of course, if I knew where the magic ingredient of imagination came from I would bottle it and sell it, which sure as hell would be an easier way of making a living. Imagination is the key ingredient and it is something that can not be taught, no matter what anyone says.

Well, that’s all I have to say about that. It’s hard to put into words something that involves me sitting at my desk and pushing keys. I wanted to get that one out of the way early so that I can talk about some much deeper subjects, but that is for the future, dear reader, that is for the future…

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