Day 48 – Long Haired Lesbians

I am no closer to having the urge to go out and write a book. Even I giggled at the absurdity of yesterdays blurb, I mean really, why would I be wondering about what the book writing conditions would be without even the urge to write. And as for peeing in the snow by the front door…I’m sure if I was clever about this I could install a temporary urinal type pipe thingy, perhaps in the kitchen to save myself going out in the cold again.

There I go again, off on a tangent. If I wasn’t going to use the proverbial log cabin in the snowy hills then I imagine writing a book on a mosquito and bug free white sanded and coral infested tropical island populated only by easy on the eye and hardly dressed but not ashamed or embarrassed lesbians. That way, I can concentrate, I can indulge in a bit of diving and I am not led into temptation – see I am religious -  and, here’s the important part for the sake of artistic creation and of course the much needed flow of juices, I would be witness to some interesting viewings. On second thoughts. Perhaps that wouldn’t work either. There just may be one who persuades me that being lesbian is the way forward. And if that were to happen, well, I’d be fucked!

Writing a book, I think, would not be easy. Somewhere out there would be someone who has been to the place you are writing about and would remember it differently. Part of my story could be a take on my experience of hitching a ride on one of those tourist overland trucks in Kenya and crossing no mans land between Kenya and Tanzania. I saw everything, all the local mud huts, the maggot infested goats and donkeys, the rutted red sand roads. The other twenty or so fresh out of Europe and needing a sun tan tourists had their heads so buried in their books and their magazines they saw nothing. What a shame. My description of this part of the world would be different to theirs. Don’t you think?

Someone would have had more experience in what you are writing about than you and would probably contradict your views. Worst, your fictional characters probably exist on this planet; they may even do the work that your fictional character does. I could build into my story the time when again hitching, this time from Bulawayo to Beit Bridge in Zimbabwe, we were picked up by a white women who neglected to tell us for the first thirty or so kilometers that the back of her station wagon was full of dynamite that she was taking to their family gold mine. It made for an interesting trip thereafter, I think at the end of that journey she was perhaps annoyed with us though as from that point forward we pointed out every bump and possible bump in the road.

Maybe she could have been a terrorist or a garden variety killer. Who knows?

Maybe they took your ideas from your book and really did them. Would that make you the co accused in pre meditated murder?

On the up side, setting a story in a place could bring fame to areas that hardly blipped on the planet before. Forks, I’m told, blossomed after the vampire thing, as did parts of NZ after the Hobbit series.

Anyway, my offer of front row seats still stands. And if you give me a good idea for a book I’ll include you in it as a fictional character. I’ll write you handsome or pretty, intelligent, wealthy and destined to save the planet. No one will know except us you who are. I’ll also write your husband, wife or partner out of the story, as grisly as you want it to be. Your team will always win, your imperfections will be gone and together we will ride off into the sunset. Does that sound like a deal or what?

Anyway, that’s my offering and my sacrifice to you today. I look forward to engaging with you tomorrow. Perhaps a little later though as it is Friday and that means beer in the afternoon.

Until tomorrow.