For years, I have had a dream. A strange dream. I wanted to sit among those giants of the literary world, those authors with long series of books, all with dramatic watercolour pictures adorning the covers, who could make up their own words with merry abandon, who could create names from sounds their cat made while it was asleep and call it a new race of people: I wanted to be a fantasy writer.
Earlier this year I woke up one day with an idea - this was what I had been waiting for! After a lifetime where the most creative thing I ever did was add pear to chocolate cake (works very well, by the way), I was finally able to put fingertips to keyboard and start my own contribution to the world of wonderful, weird world of rubbish fantasy writing.
As I write I am about halfway through writing the first novel, and I am loving it. I have no illusions: I have read too much of the good stuff (and the bad) for my ideas not to feature some derivation from my favourites. But I am told that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery and I hope it will be clear in the final text that any inadvertent similarities to characters living or imagined is purely done in love. Will that stand up in a court of law?
Here I will take a look at where my own writing attempts take me and also cast a wider look at the world of fantasy writing.
No comments:
Post a Comment