The Writer Read Online Free

wacky, so unless you make them like virtual aliens, they’re
just going to be let down.”
    “I have been to Gendry, for
your information, and I happen to have met some of the locals and
they’re interesting enough for me to want to put them into my book,
I will have you know. I have a whole bunch of them.”
    “You’re telling me you’re
putting real people into your book? Can you do that? Don’t they
need to sign a waiver or something?”
    “I can easily change their
names. Although I do like their real names. One guy called Elbow
…”
    “Who’s your main
character?”
    “The young woman,
Sophie.”
    “You’re writing a novel with
a girl in lead? Can you do that?”
    “Why can’t I?”
    “No reason,” she said as she
gave a dismissive laugh. “I have no idea what kind of a clue you’d
have about what goes on in the mind of a young woman, that’s
all.”
    “A writer should be able to
write everyone in a realistic manner.”
    “What happens to her in
Gendry? Could anything interesting ever happen to anyone who lives
in Gendry?”
    “That’s why I want it there.
It’s a small out-of-the-way town, where everyone knows everyone
else, seemingly harmless. Seemingly safe.”
    “But not really harmless or
safe? Tell me again, what happens to this girl? What was her name
again?”
    “Sophie. She’s there for
relaxation. A holiday, away from the big city.”
    “What motivation does she
have for her relaxation? Does she have a believable back story? Can
the reader relate to her? You know the reader must be able to
relate to the main character or they aren’t going to read any
further than the first page or so. Maybe if the reader is feeling
sorry for the writer going to all the trouble of writing this
story, they might give it a few chapters, depending on their
generosity.”
    “What’s this I’m hearing?
Suddenly you’re an expert in writing?”
    “What happens to her in
Gendry?”
    “I haven’t got to that part
yet.”
    “You haven’t written it, you
mean? Or you don’t know yourself? Don’t tell me you’re just making
it up as you go? That’s the worst kind of book. You’re not, are
you? Did you want anyone to pay for it, or will it be one of those
free things sitting in the bins in shadowy parts of bookstores,
underneath books so bad they don’t even stack up next to the usual
trash? The kind of books you see and have no idea why it was
published in the first place.”
    “There’s nothing wrong with
doing that, writing as you go. You never know what might happen, so
it’s like real life. Set up the characters, see where they go. It’s
just like what happens in real life; unpredictable, and surprising,
and realistic.”
    “That’s how the worst books
are written. No, really, they are. You can tell the author is
making it all up as they go. You must have some kind of plan,
surely, on what your story’s about?”
    “I have a plan.”
    Jill looked at him expecting
him to tell her. “Well?” she asked when he didn’t.
    “You’ll just have to wait
until it’s done.”
    “Can hardly wait for that,”
she said sarcastically. She then went back to the laundry and
thought she’d call up another of her friends.
    Max sat back in his chair
and grimaced. He had not expected a harsh reaction. He had managed
to start writing again and then she just about finished off any
hope of continuing. She had changed so much from when they were
first married, and it seemed to be getting worse. She had once been
supportive of his writing, and encouraged him to take time off to
write his first book. She disliked what the first book became, but
she told him so gently, and helped him through the struggles with
his second. When the third book was actually published she was
hopeful of making money. The more it looked like that wasn’t going
to happen, the more reserved she became, and her words sarcastic
and cutting. Her faith in him seemed to die.
     
     
    “ Entrée!” Simona announced
with her