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As I write this I have two books before me on my desk; both half-completed. Actually they are both less than a quarter complete, but perhaps the smallest of all the chicaneries offered by the English language is that it enables you to exaggerate your success without fear. So, yes both books are half-completed.
Both books are special to me. One of them is about a gentleman who aspires, in spite of several handicaps, to excel at a new enterprise; and eventually had a measure of success due to the love of his woman. In the second, a story of the many challenges of old age, an elderly widower living a secluded life alone, acquires two unusual friends - a flock of wild birds and a guava tree . Neither book is a full novel; both are novelettes and I am thinking to put no more than 25,000 words into any of them, or 30,000 tops. Don't get this wrong, the novelette is not an euphemism for a failed novel; and you don't write one because you lack the stamina to engage a standard size novel. The novelette is also not a short story which has gotten out of control. This animal has its own rules - it simultaneously demands from you, the fast pace of a short story, and the longer tease of the novel. Think of it as something like the middle long distance race on the athletics field. The novelette requires a new set of skills.
But let's get back to my mouldering books. I just don't have the energy to invest in either; not right now. I have just concluded my mother's funeral and I am completely drained of all agreeable emotions. Both books are serious books. The major characters are facing severe emotional challenges, and should in turn demand huge investments of similar quality , in compassion from me. I am drained; I don't have any to spare; I couldn't at this time give a rat's piss about what happens to any of them. If they came knocking on my door, all wet from the rain, I'd tell them to f@$k off. I don't want to end my life like Wolfgang Mozart, writing cold dirges in the sorrowful wake of his father’s demise.
Right now I want to write things that make me laugh. I want to write comedies; I want to write satires, spoofs and pantomimes bristling with buffooneries. I want to write stories that could make me wake up giggling in the middle of the night. I want to rise up in the morning, singing and laughing so loud that the neighbours think of putting me away. In truth I think I really do need a long holiday from this desk if someone would be nice enough to buy me a anywhere.
Nevertheless, I have just found something on my hard disk. It is the rough outline for a silent slapstick movie, and which I had written many weeks back. Reading it has somehow lifted my spirit a bit. If only I could gather together the strength to polish it up some more. It looks perfect for the task in hand.