The Old Man and the Melniboné

Now this is a writing schedule I could dress up for. It’s one that fantasy writer Michael Moorcock used to follow in his cockamamie days:

“My method of writing fantasy novels was to go to bed for a few days, getting up only to take the kids to school and pick them up, while the book germinated, making a few notes, then I’d jump out of bed and start, writing around 15-20,000 words a day (I was a super-fast typist) for three days, rarely for more than normal working hours — say 9 to 6— get my friend Jim Cawthorn to read the manuscript for any errors of typing or spelling, etc. Then send it straight to the editor unread by me.”

15,000 to 20,000 words a day! How? Where? On whose iBook?

I need to go to bed for a few days!

I also resonate like a crystal to this that the English poet Jon Burnside says about fiction: “What matters in fiction, more than formal skill, more than clever effects or knowingness, more even than the all too frequently sociological “meaning” of the work, is how keenly and completely a writer reimagines language and the world and, by extension, how that vision revivifies the language and experiences of others.”

And I like to shout this by Byron at the British political system: “Degenerate Britons! Are ye dead to shame, Or, kind to dullness, do you fear to blame?”

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