"...as soon as I get my head 'round you..."
I'm trying my best to be a writer, yet really I don't understand people. That's really quite a problem, as if you can't understand other people. it makes writing other characters quite tricky. Of course, there is the option of writing a first person novel based on your own experiences (even if embellished) but then why write a thinly veiled autobiography rather than a true work of fiction?
(Mind you there is the arguement that this is, more or less, what Salinger did with The Catcher in the Rye, and that's the best novel ever written.)
I can never really work out what people are thinking, the internal processes that go on to make them come to odd decisions. Oh, I don't know. Echo and the Bunnymen said that "People are strange, when you're a stranger"... I find the more you get to "know" people, the odder they seem.
I'm sure no-one really knows who I am. Yeah, I'm the one in the corner able to find smut even in the most innocent phrase, with a mock "ooh, I say", or "dis-gusting". But, really, there's much more than that. I'm sure none of you - even the ones of you that actually know me - really know the things that go through my head. Some of the things would probably surprise you. And I'm sure the things that go through your heads would surprise me.
You see, this is the thing. No-one really knows anyone. Just the impression that they give. Maybe that's the thing I need to realise for this book I'm writing. Just write it, first person, thinly veiled embellished autobiography (heck, even the central conceit of the thing is lifted, embellished, from my life).
Yeah. That'll do...
(Mind you there is the arguement that this is, more or less, what Salinger did with The Catcher in the Rye, and that's the best novel ever written.)
I can never really work out what people are thinking, the internal processes that go on to make them come to odd decisions. Oh, I don't know. Echo and the Bunnymen said that "People are strange, when you're a stranger"... I find the more you get to "know" people, the odder they seem.
I'm sure no-one really knows who I am. Yeah, I'm the one in the corner able to find smut even in the most innocent phrase, with a mock "ooh, I say", or "dis-gusting". But, really, there's much more than that. I'm sure none of you - even the ones of you that actually know me - really know the things that go through my head. Some of the things would probably surprise you. And I'm sure the things that go through your heads would surprise me.
You see, this is the thing. No-one really knows anyone. Just the impression that they give. Maybe that's the thing I need to realise for this book I'm writing. Just write it, first person, thinly veiled embellished autobiography (heck, even the central conceit of the thing is lifted, embellished, from my life).
Yeah. That'll do...