18 Oct Words of an author – the unknown and the planned
It is so nice, how a novel can take you to some completely different place. I could be a young woman, living in an apartment, owned by an artist. I could be a junkie, living off scraps of his love. It could be raining outside and everything that I saw could be art.
If I wanted to write a novel though, it wouldn’t be this opening up of a surprise. At least not for the author. The plot would be defined before the words were written, and as an author I would always know what point I wanted to make.
It would still be the words, under these fingers, that would bleed through into the page, but they would be planned, they would not form the happenstance or coincidence of life.
From this point, here in Melbourne, Paris would be such an adventure. From here, there are bigger adventures to have. From the coast it was Melbourne. From Melbourne it is Paris.
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