When I was just a lad, I remember one wet afternoon when for some reason, now lost in the vast ocean of time, we were congregated in the school hall and told to entertain ourselves. Our temporary sport teacher, a Welsh cap, came across and asked me what I was so busy writing. "My novel" I told him confidently. I went on to explain that it was about a secret agent (very big at the time) called James Wheaton. I had filled about half a thin lined scholastic type exercise book in large handwriting, and written ten or more chapters. I remember asking him if he thought I'd almost written enough for a book. He tactfully explained that what I'd written would probably only amount to a few pages in print. I was disappointed, I'd pictured a whole series of James Wheaton, Secret Agent stories in bookshops within weeks!
I can't say I wrote very consistently over the next thirty years but from time to time I'd try my hand at a script with a friend. We generally received good feedback and were invariably urged to keep writing, but these partnerships always seemed to lack the resilience to keep going, or work came up for one or other of us and we went our separate ways. I didn't consider writing on my own until later. I'd never had much difficulty with ideas for stories, but to be absolutely honest, I didn't think I'd have the staying power, the sheer grit and determination needed to write and revise until the job was done.
I'm pleased to say, I did manage to do it, and what's more I found the experience utterly exhilarating. I can't say I enjoyed the eighteen months of uncertainty, raised hopes and disappointment that followed; by the end of which I'd been taken out to lunch by an editor from a large publishing house, also a literary agent who wanted to represent the book and had been assured by a prominent person in the world of publishing to, "Trust me, it's going to happen."
For a while after it went pear-shaped, I felt a bit like a crushed bug and didn't even feel like writing a shopping list.
Anyway, I did eventually get going again. That's the most important thing in life, I reckon - To Keep Going!
I can't say I wrote very consistently over the next thirty years but from time to time I'd try my hand at a script with a friend. We generally received good feedback and were invariably urged to keep writing, but these partnerships always seemed to lack the resilience to keep going, or work came up for one or other of us and we went our separate ways. I didn't consider writing on my own until later. I'd never had much difficulty with ideas for stories, but to be absolutely honest, I didn't think I'd have the staying power, the sheer grit and determination needed to write and revise until the job was done.
I'm pleased to say, I did manage to do it, and what's more I found the experience utterly exhilarating. I can't say I enjoyed the eighteen months of uncertainty, raised hopes and disappointment that followed; by the end of which I'd been taken out to lunch by an editor from a large publishing house, also a literary agent who wanted to represent the book and had been assured by a prominent person in the world of publishing to, "Trust me, it's going to happen."
For a while after it went pear-shaped, I felt a bit like a crushed bug and didn't even feel like writing a shopping list.
Anyway, I did eventually get going again. That's the most important thing in life, I reckon - To Keep Going!
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