I know that one of these days, I will get to the very end of the last chapter. On that day I do not know what I will do. The easy answer is, of course, to start writing another book straight away. That is the problem. I enjoy the physical aspects of writing; the creation, the tender flow of ink on paper. It's soothing.
And into this heaven strides the devil himself; Redrafting.
And that is what I'll have to do. I will feel obliged to take what I have written and to put it into a coherent format ready to be mailed, published etc. I really don't want to. But the more that I write the closer that mountain comes. The more I write, the higher the pile of paper that needs to be typed until at last!
No more writing but a wealth of notebooks looking snidely as I procrastinate endlessly over the hateful job of typing up.
One of the big problems of typing up is the joy of writing, it's pleasure heightened by an increasing sucession of Pilot G-Tec-C4 pens. They write extra-fine with a 0.4 gel ink nib. I have also bought today, for my guilty pleasure, a new notebook, having finished the previous this afternoon. Chapter, Pen and Book my own private intellectual tennis victory. It's narrow ruled, firm backed with a little pocket at the back for my notes. Oh! woe is me, it really is too much to suggest that I resist the succulent tempatations. So I shall continue to write.
At least until someone comes up with a computer smart enough to read my handwriting...
DR
Friday 15 April 2011
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