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Monday, 4 September 2017

Once more unto the breach dear friends, once more ...etc, etc.



I haven't been blogging for a while because my "creative juices." ( not to be confused with "Precious Bodily Fluids") have been directed elsewhere. No, I've been on a creative binge which has left the Bloggersphere bereft of my "bon mots".

This artistic blitzkrieg has result in two abandoned novels, a collection of dubious poetry and a sense that I missed my vocation by not training as quantity surveyor. In January I made a great declaration. No longer would I channel my energies into improving the lot of the increasingly middle class and Mumsnetty Walthamstow. No huge endeavours to get the Street Clean up and running. No massive effort to organise a Poets' Corner Street Party. I will give myself over to private pleasures instead. To wit - a writer's life for me. And I meant it.

I joined a writers' group here in sub Bloomsbury Walthamstow. I joined a poets' group and the Poetry Society. I even did two open mic sessions - reading my oeuvre to an enraptured audience of pensioners. I started on a detective novel, I entered poetry competitions. I was on a creative surf board, breasting the rolling surfs of creativity and emotion. (see what I mean!).

To no avail. My novel, set in the sleepy town of Haywards Heath and involving multiple murders, sex and fiendishly complicated detection has petered out...after some rather harsh but valuable criticism. It languishes, half finished on my Google Drive a finger twitch away from oblivion. I started a second opus -a majestic sci-fi a la Arthur C Clarke: but it's boldly going...nowhere.

I signed up for an advanced writers course and an intensive poetry workshop. All confirming I'm a can short of a six pack. I know how J K Rowlings felt before she became the richest woman in the UK.

I had visions. Pulitzer prize winner, Nobel Laureate ( any one would do), Order of Merit, Book of the Week on QVC Remainders. But it has all come to nought. All my dreams lie at my feet in ashes which mock my puny attempts at immortality (Ed: for fuck's sake cut the crap!).

So now,  chastened but renewed, my latest project is a reworking of  Dante "Divine Comedy" aimed at the under fives. There's a real opportunity here: links with all those social media things and "Facebook". Mothercare has shown some tentative interest - as have a number of rather unsavoury characters on my Twitter feed.

No it all going tickity boo as we say in E M Forester World - another of my web enterprises.

Keep your eyes wide open!

2 comments:

EJ Thribb said...


Take heart Walthamstow bard.
I too have written.
But it is hard.

Sometimes the muse
Is there. Other
Times you need booze.

Barry Coidan said...

Dear Thribb, your encouragement is much appreciated