Every writer craves that moment when there is a story burning to get out
and arrange itself on the paper, forming itself as it flies - like the
patterns made by the great flocks of starlings that wheel over Brighton
pier - fluid and unstoppable.
Well, as of last Wednesday, I have two such stories - one probably a TV
series, the other, well, that could go either one way of the other.
They came from (almost) nowhere* and bubbled to the surface while I was
listening to Julian Fellowes** speak at the Cheltenham Screenwriters'
Festival last week - which was a pity as I think he had interesting
things to say about working with producers, but I could hear I word as a
blocked out two whole storylines on the back of my programme with a
borrowed pen.
Now they are itching under my skin, forcing me out of my chair to pace,
and plan and walk the length of the Thames.
So here I am, a 7am, at the screen, fired up to write, convinced that I
have something to say and a voice to say it with.
But do I chase one of these two stories that are flying overhead - or do
I use the energy to finish the next draft of the Ethiopian project.
You know. The one I have actually been *commissioned* to finish....
Well?
What would you do - ride the roller coaster of inspiration, or do the
professional thing and finish the work in hand?
_____________
* Not really from nowhere:
Story one, inspired by Frankie Fraser's reminiscences of the London
Blitz has sat as a three line prompt on my hard drive for 5 years.
Story two, a police proceedural with a twist, popped up as a bit of
fluffy fandom-inspired fun back in May.
** This was also the rain-soaked session in which I started shaking, and
probably got the chill which is making me wheeze and sneeze this
morning. Arghhh -I survived 3 months in a damp unheated cottage with
icicles hanging from the kitchen ceiling without so much as a sniff.
One day of summer rain and misplaced aircon, and I'm shivering and ever
so slightly feverish.
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