Monday, 16 January 2012

Creative Writing Group on Daily Telegraph

I just noticed people were joining the Creative Writing Group at this time of night, are we all night owls?

 

I used to listed to Radio4 in bed with my brother 40years ago and more.  THe World Tonight with Douglas Stuart reporting, following by The Book at Bedtime, I even remember THe Ghost and Mrs Muir. It was thanks to 20years of religious listening to Radio4 that I lost most of my Brummie accent, it also meant that when I started to write I had heard a lot of writing previously.

 

Writing a story is having a baby, of course your baby   is beautiful, how dare anybody say otherwise. However you have to be honest with yourself, you also have to tell the whole world GO **&$&^ because you must always have faith in yourself. I have faith in my play Shoplife, I have faith in The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker which on Leap Years Day 2012 will be 24years old. I never bothered looking for a publisher and then finally I did, but thats another story. From Leap Year to Leap Year the story of.... I can hear the byline being typed.

 

It would kill my writing if somebody told me how to type, I meant how to write, but writing is more than typing, its al about ideas. You are a writer because you write, not because you type. Its a thought process, its having ideas, not the physical action of typing. Here's my idea from this evening at Mass. The Arch Bishop was having a Visitation at Saint Mary's in Harborne, so I wondered what it must feel like. It is like having an Ofsted but for a church, so as I left I asked the Arch Bishop as I shook his hand "YOU must be like the Mother-in-Law", the Arch Bishop still shaking my hand laughed and said that he was more like a cousin visiting.

 

Now that's what writing is all about, its about ideas, sometimes  they come when you should be paying attention at Mass, but ideas always come, even if typing doesn't.

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Koreans running to me

 It may just be the rush to Midnight Mass Big Big catholic country I am catholic from the nipple myself So here's your Christmas present...