That's a terrible title; it really is. I'll explain in a minute. I never thought of myself as a crank, but the older I get, there's more things that really upset me.
I never liked stories about writers. Get it? It's a writer, writing about a writer. Or an opera about a musician. Or a play about a play. Or a film about a film- maker. Or a piece of art, a portrait of someone drawing a portrait. Come on, I think, you guys need to get out more! You'd think that the only world a playwright knew about was the Theatre! And all that a writer knew about, was the world of writing.
It must be so tempting, because of course a writer knows about writing. It isn't very hard for me to get inside the head of another—mediocre—writer.
Actually, the Muppet Show is, in some ways, about putting on a variety show. The reason it works so well is the guest stars.
Well, just today an idea came to me about writing a story about Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, who wrote Frankenstein. I don't know enough about her to write a story about her, and now that I've told you about how much I dislike that niche area of literary art, I couldn't go through with it. But for a short while, there was the distinct danger that a story about Mary Shelley would rise from the ashes.
K
No comments:
Post a Comment