Gestating a magnum opus.
Posted Jul 26, 08:25
When I was 20, I had a major fall out with my dad – so I left home – found a ‘garret’ near Edinburgh Uni – bought a typewriter – sat down to write my angst ridden novel. I still cringe when I recall how ‘up myself’ I was. The desire to write has always hovered around my life – but I was never sure whether I wanted to be the Philip Marlowe or Raymond Chandler – the hero or the writer.
Being a writer seemed so romantic – Hemingway and Fitzgerald and all that gang in Paris between the wars – to write by day and then get pissed every evening with fellow writers and artists – pursuing the meaning of life in famed cafés of Paris. La vie boheme. But the record shows my life followed the ‘Action Man’ route – so many campaigns over the years – victories and defeats – but part of me, even in the heat of battle, was always taking notes – without knowing why.
I’m older now and the allure of Philip Marlowes ‘mean streets’ has been replaced by gardening – but it stays with me like an itch – the urge to put down the word. Sometimes my unconscious gives me hints that it is gestating a magnum opus. Maybe in a couple of years when I’m 70 – I’ll sit down again to write my novel. I know fine I’m too old – but it certainly won’t be any worse then my first attempt 50 years ago.
source-Senscot