Crashing back down to earth

Why do we love our mothers? Because, just when you’re on the verge of breaking through to the literary mainstream in a cascade of sparkling glory, they send you a PDF of your early, “difficult” period, aged about five. I therefore present this early glimpse of stardom / damning indictment of my capacities as a writer, unedited (aside from a little cutting and pasting of my capitalised name):

My editor should take note: apostrophes remain a problem area, and although my spelling has improved it is still far from perfect. I presume these are errors, of course; only paper planes are flung through the air, and if 747s went “boing” then act two would lose all tension. I am rather pleased with my quite FABULOUS gun, pen and notebook accessories. Guess I won’t be selling many copies in Arizona, but all that fire power should balance me out in Texas.

I direct the world’s attention to my innate flare for visual storytelling. Though I seem to have brushed over the bit where someone tries to shoot down a passenger jet (with propellers no less) in some sort of fighter plane. In the movie that gets more attention.

It was fully twenty years later that I studied a master’s degree in screen writing, yet even in childhood I showed a keen grasp of narrative structure courtesy of my ground-breaking unfortunately/fortunately/unfortunately reversals model.

[Please Note: I do not know if I got the apostrophe right in "master's"]

And I Bring It Home Like A Pro with that second unfortunately, who knew that this was to be tragedy at its most poignant? I’m particularly taken with the emotional-state-corner-thumbnails, it’s vital to keep track of where your characters “are” at any given moment, but my tendency to start with lots of colour and detail but trail off to a rushed anti-climax in the final chapters still rings distressing bells to this day.

Thanks, mum.

xx

THAT STORY AGAIN IN FULL:

ANDREW was going to the airport
for a ride in a Boing 747
to USA. He had a suitcase with
things he would need and
some thing's very speshel, a
gun, a pen, a noatbook.
so he went on and got a
seet and thæy were of!
Thay were fling in the are
when
UNFORTUNATELY
the prpelers stoped !
forTUNATELY
thay started againe. And thay
landed. At last he said,
I can go to the Hotel!
unfortunately
it was full so he hatd to
go back againe