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Friday, December 02, 2005
Now that I am almost fnished my novel's first draft, the fantasizing can start in earnest.
Even more important than writing a novel, is imagining where the novel will take you. Fiction writers have to be good at imaging things. Or else you just end up with Silas Marner.
I went into work yesterday and everyone's panties were in a knot. But I knew that, once I become a rich bestselling author with a movie deal, I'll go into work and the scenario will play out very differently. I let my imagination soar.
For starters, I am going to take up pipe-smoking. It'll make me look dignified and serious, like a Nobel prize winner.
Then I won't even bother getting dressed. I'm going to work in a silk robe. My buddy Stephen King recommended that a burgundy-coloured one suits writers of zombie fiction. Hey, if the expert says so.
I won't even pin my nametag to the robe. I mean, I got to keep some anonymity. All those autograph hounds can get to you, said my good friend Salman Rushdie.
The biggest change at work will be when my coworkers recognize my genius. No more of this interrupting me mid-sentence. My words are worth listening to, as long as Hollywood pays me to pen gorefests.
No author would let those who helped her or him along the way go unmentioned.
Assisting me in delusions of grandeur are David and Travis.
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