I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanished sight:
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restor'd and sorrows end.
(Shakespeare's Sonnet 30)
‘Just write down the first thing that comes into your head.’
‘Well, like that, for example.’
‘What? “Like what?” ’
‘Not exactly Shakespeare, is it, Reggie?’
‘What do you want to write like Shakespeare for?’
‘I don’t. I want to write like David Foster Wallace.’
‘Well, there you go, then.’
Writing a story wasn’t nearly as easy as it was cracked up to be. Mick must have written the equivalent of War and Peace ten times over in his head, but the moment he sat down to put his thoughts to paper, he invariably drew a blank.
‘Just write down the first thing that comes into your head,’ Reg had told him.
OK, here goes . . .
‘Once upon a t—’
Gosh, this was pathetic!
I’ve started, so I’ll finish . . .
‘Once upon a time, there was a would-be writer who didn’t know where to start. Nor did he know where to finish. All he really knew for certain was that he wanted to write. So write he would.’
So help me God.
No one will read this rubbish!
Rule number one of writing: don’t write for no one; write for number one.
fifty shades of Spain, chapter 2, "This Is How It Always Starts"