Treacle and Ink

March 28, 2008

Filed under: Uncategorized — adrian @ 6:10 pm

I don’t have time to write much because I have to go and write. Silly, isn’t it? Silly but wonderful. And to think that all this time I’ve said – not just said, believed – that I didn’t miss it. Ah, self-deception, a capacity invented by Mr Freud. Did you know that? Before Freud, no one would have understood the sentence “I was deceiving myself”. It’s like the end of a love affair, when one says “oh no, I don’t miss him, I don’t miss him at all.” Because the ache inside is too great to be borne, too great even to be glimpsed out of the corner of the eye. Can one glimpse an ache? Most imprecise and ridiculous phrasing.

I’m rambling foolishly. Like a woman suddenly in love, I am besotted with my new book. Three chapters already drafted! I wouldn’t have thought I was capable of writing this sort of thing at all: it’s all thrills and derring-do. There’s a terrible villain, Harrison Maltravers, with a wooden leg, who manipulates everyone around him to do his will, and there’s a plucky hero and a dashing heroine – I think they’re going to fall in love – and there’s been a blackmail plot in Downing Street, and the discovery of a secret society operating in the London Underground, and a balloon ride in the Cairngorms has gone horribly wrong and the fate of the nation lies in the balance. It feels more like reading than writing, I’ve never known storytelling to be so effortless. I just look at my reflection in the black mirror, fall into a sort of mild trance, and then pick up my pen and start writing. But just thinking of it now makes me want to return to the page. The shop’s closed – it’s time!


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