I lectured the other day, down at Teesside Uni.
Well, less of a lecture really, more of a ramble with references but even so, it made me feel important. I like talking about writing, especially when I'm not talking about my own writing - I always feel like a little bit of a fraud when I'm asked to mutter things about my own writing - I've discovered that I quite like the academic side of the whole thing. The narratology bits and the discourse thingies and the stuff about creating realities and that. All good fun. Obviously I manage to sound slightly more clued up when I do the lecturery things and I bring in handouts because I'm blatantly mint, so yeah, all good fun.
What surprised me though is that when I was asked about what I'm writing now I still managed to sound, partly at least, as if I still knew what I was talking about.
I was talking about the solutions I'd "decided" on to problems that had "become apparent in the narrative or with the perspective." Which I found particularly surprising as I don't remember 'solving' anything. Ever. Least of all in my still-as-yet-unfinished-but-hopefully-ready-soon-manuscript.
Oh. And I'm using words like 'manuscript' now too rather than my generally used: 'pile of rude words'.
It's all very surprising, it turns out that I'm just thoroughly steeped in literature.
I mean, I am an English teacher so obviously some knowledge of books and some ability to speak in at least vague terms about them is necessary, but this new thing I'm doing is a little odd. I'm just one big literary teabag it appears. Tetley's probably, or Typhoo maybe. Own brand most likely. Certainly I'm not Twinings quality, not until I can get His Lord The Great Stephen Fry to Twitter about me, but you have to have ambition.
And I do have DK, so, you know - I'm already half way to quality tea aren't I?
I've forgotten what I was talking about...
... But I have just found some biscuits...
Why I wrote Disraeli Avenue for charity - The houses on Disraeli Avenue all looked the same, the same shape, the same size but behind each coloured front door there was a story, a secret, a need....
2 years ago