The reasons for my busy-ness can mostly be interpreted as laziness which I can’t excuse, or videogames which I also can’t excuse but maybe could write about and therefore justify. I’ll do this in a sec, on another post, so hold tight. This one is more bloggy and for that I apologise.
www.crowdsurfer.net, to Liam’s dismay) is because I’ve been writing a book, and I’m insisting on calling it ‘a book’ even though it’s more like an OpenOffice file full of words that will almost certainly never materialise into a book. But it’s still my book, and probably the only thing I’ve written that could stand on it’s own as such. The zombie book I’ve been writing on-off for what feels like a decade (but is only actually around half of that) wouldn’t work because it’s humour is very specific to me and I’m not funny. It could work as a movie, because it could rely on cheap visual gags to get over the crippling disability of the story and characters, but as a ‘Read-y’ it’s broken.
It’s happened quite naturally really, though I wasn’t expecting it to end up like this. It started life as a short story to entertain a girl and pass some time in work about 2 months ago and is now 70 pages long and growing by about two pages a day and I’m making it up as I go along. It’s fun, and I don’t think it’s terrible. The only person to read it and give me feedback so far is Mick. He said it could easily be a kids book, which I’m taking as a compliment to it’s whimsical nature, but the second half of the book is full of murder and swearing so maybe that wouldn’t be such a good idea. Unless kids these days like murder and swearing, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll throw in some knife-crime and aim it at 10 year olds. We’ll see.
It’s taken over everything else I was writing, and I’m eager to finish it so I can get back to writing about zombies and my uninformed opinions about everything the world is doing wrong, but also because I want to print it out and send it to people I know and force them to read it. I might even tie people up and read it on stage in a monotone voice, like Vogon poetry. If I keep people tied up long enough and read it enough times I might be able to induce some sort of Stockholm Syndrome situation whereby everyone present ends up loving me and my book about a Superhero, turning it into the best selling book in that particular room. It’s all about the little victories.
Though realistially I’ll probably post it here when I’m done, to avoid the legal minefield of kidnappings and molestation (if I’m going to kidnap you, I may as well).
If you are reading this, and you happen to know a publisher with lots of money and terribly quality control, give them my email address.
Or, if you’d just like to read it, ask me. Could do with the feedback.
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