A short note…

I must apologise for my absence in the past few months as life has been extremely hectic. I’ve been drafting my fantasy novel, plotting book two in my Whisperer series, and reworking the plot of book number one so that the pace of first half of the novel now better matches the second half (a wonderful side effect being that my word count has significantly shrunk from a bloated 105,000 to a svelte 88,500). And then, of course, there has been all my “re-entering the workforce” preparation (I know, I know, I said I’d never do law again)…

All in all, though, I have to say, life is good 😀

Anyways, I thought I’d make a short appearance (so you know I’m still alive and kicking and banging my head against the wall and enjoying every minute of it) and share with you a little something that always makes me smile when I read it – namely, Stephen King’s “On Writing” (btw this is a book I reread every year or so because it is just so damn amazing)…

Mr King (can I call him Stephen??) states that to become a good writer you must read a lot and write a lot and then he talks briefly about what exactly constitutes “a lot” when it comes to writing. He looks at different writers and how much they write in a sitting and then suggests what he thinks is a good goal for a new writer to aim for. Here is an excerpt from his book that I think is funny (especially given my history of notoriously slow writing)…

If “read a lot, write a lot” is the Great Commandment—and I assure you that it is—how much writing constitutes a lot? That varies, of course, from writer to writer. One of my favorite stories on the subject—probably more myth than truth—concerns James Joyce.
According to the story, a friend came to visit him one day and found the great man sprawled across his writing desk in a posture of utter despair.
“James, what’s wrong?” the friend asked. “Is it the work?”
Joyce indicated assent without even raising his head to look at the friend. Of course it was the work; isn’t it always?
“How many words did you get today?” the friend pursued.
Joyce (still in despair, still sprawled facedown on his desk): “Seven.”
“Seven? But James . . . that’s good, at least for you!”
“Yes,” Joyce said, finally looking up. “I suppose it is . . . but I don’t know what order they go in!”

Oh my, I love it 🙂