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Writing is a gift. Not everyone can be so blessed. It's a shame, a real shame, because there are some people out in the world who can string together words like pearls, and yet who haven't got a story worth telling ... and you get, on the other end of the scale, people whose stories would make you break down and cry, yet who couldn't put together a single coherent written sentence to tell their tale.
I like to think that I fall somewhere in between: possessed of a talent for writing yes, but also with a story of moderate interest to tell.
And you have to have a story to tell, as well as that spark to write.
That's what the title of this post refers to: the Donné, Henry James' term for that "spark" that catalyses the writing urge. The Donné is a gift; something give to you by Providence, not to be overlooked but cherished and nurtured.
I have received my Donné ... and it is Fantasy.
Why Fantasy?
Well, why not? I want to write about magic. I want to write about learning, and coming to terms with your capabilities - and finding that you are capable of far more, when you apply yourself, than you can know.
I want to write about family. About the drives that prompt people to seek one another out. The drive for self - preservation that prompts someone to seek to have children, to preserve a legacy.
And I want to write about death. What it means, how it affects people in different ways, how it motivates people differently ... and the consequences of people's quests to avoid death at all costs, even if that quest is a futile one.
Well, at least so far ...
A time ago, I was asked by someone why I want to write at all. I told them simply "Because there's nothing else I do, when I'm by myself." Give me a computer and electricity to run it, and I'll write till my fingers are nubs. Give me a pen and paper, and I'll do likewise.
I was once asked why I can't write mainstream stuff, "without all of this magic nonsense." I told that rather angry person "Because that is my gift."
Because I was never given the gift to write about peripatetic salesmen, doctors - cum - amateur golfers, housewives, unemployed bricklayers, actuarials working for insurance agencies or part-time TA squaddies whose dayjob is working for the Council as a school crossing attendant.
My Donné is a world of dreamers, singers, bringers of wonder, readers of signs, prophets and clowns. The most non-productive kind of people, whose reply to the weighty questions of life is to offer lollipops to the worried, or maybe try to make them laugh with a squeaky toy or balloon animal.
Perhaps my characters, like the ones I submitted to the BBC recently as part of their Talent competition, may be trying to tell the world something important. Perhaps the Donné I have been given is a need to write, to point out the need to look again at your priorities ...
I like to think that I fall somewhere in between: possessed of a talent for writing yes, but also with a story of moderate interest to tell.
And you have to have a story to tell, as well as that spark to write.
That's what the title of this post refers to: the Donné, Henry James' term for that "spark" that catalyses the writing urge. The Donné is a gift; something give to you by Providence, not to be overlooked but cherished and nurtured.
I have received my Donné ... and it is Fantasy.
Why Fantasy?
Well, why not? I want to write about magic. I want to write about learning, and coming to terms with your capabilities - and finding that you are capable of far more, when you apply yourself, than you can know.
I want to write about family. About the drives that prompt people to seek one another out. The drive for self - preservation that prompts someone to seek to have children, to preserve a legacy.
And I want to write about death. What it means, how it affects people in different ways, how it motivates people differently ... and the consequences of people's quests to avoid death at all costs, even if that quest is a futile one.
Well, at least so far ...
A time ago, I was asked by someone why I want to write at all. I told them simply "Because there's nothing else I do, when I'm by myself." Give me a computer and electricity to run it, and I'll write till my fingers are nubs. Give me a pen and paper, and I'll do likewise.
I was once asked why I can't write mainstream stuff, "without all of this magic nonsense." I told that rather angry person "Because that is my gift."
Because I was never given the gift to write about peripatetic salesmen, doctors - cum - amateur golfers, housewives, unemployed bricklayers, actuarials working for insurance agencies or part-time TA squaddies whose dayjob is working for the Council as a school crossing attendant.
My Donné is a world of dreamers, singers, bringers of wonder, readers of signs, prophets and clowns. The most non-productive kind of people, whose reply to the weighty questions of life is to offer lollipops to the worried, or maybe try to make them laugh with a squeaky toy or balloon animal.
Perhaps my characters, like the ones I submitted to the BBC recently as part of their Talent competition, may be trying to tell the world something important. Perhaps the Donné I have been given is a need to write, to point out the need to look again at your priorities ...
