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percivalFour small taster excerpts of Scottish literature, together with an enthusiast's view, and a copy of a shameless parody of Jeffrey Archers' prison diary are up for grabs. You will appreciate the Archer diary more if you know who Jeffrey Archer is, but 'tis a gem.
Who wants the tasters, and who wants the diary? Both are very small volumes, and I would like to send them off tomorrow or on Thursday - first come, first served. ETA: Tasters to be sent to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
voxmaille
Excerpt:
3:23pm. The governor, Ms Gregory, comes by unannounced, to speak to me about Education. Since it looks like I will be 'banged up' in Hellmarsh for at least a fortnight, she wishes to know if I am intersted in taking any classes while I'm here. I'm flattered. I've always enjoyed teaching. I inquire about creative writing courses.
"Yes, we do have one," she says, wearily. I can tell from the tone of her voice that she is unhappy with the present instructor.
"Well, you are no doubt aware that I fancy myself a bit of a writer," I say with comic modesty.
"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I've never read any of your books," she says.
People often tell me that they have never read my books, perhaps because they are embarrassed, although it is always glaringly obvious to me that they are lying. Given my overall sales figures, it is quite simply statistically impossible. I have worked out that everyone in Britain has read at least two, which is more than you can say for Mr William G Shakespeare. "In that case," I reply, "I'm working on something at the moment which you may be interested in." I hand her the latest pages of my prison diary. She peruses the first few pages intently.
"Actually, I think our creative writing class would do you a lot of good," she says.
"Splendid. When do I start?"
"I can sign you up this week. It's on Friday afternoons. Guard!"
At last, I think, a chance to do something worthwhile in this hellhole.
Who wants the tasters, and who wants the diary? Both are very small volumes, and I would like to send them off tomorrow or on Thursday - first come, first served. ETA: Tasters to be sent to
voxmailleExcerpt:
3:23pm. The governor, Ms Gregory, comes by unannounced, to speak to me about Education. Since it looks like I will be 'banged up' in Hellmarsh for at least a fortnight, she wishes to know if I am intersted in taking any classes while I'm here. I'm flattered. I've always enjoyed teaching. I inquire about creative writing courses.
"Yes, we do have one," she says, wearily. I can tell from the tone of her voice that she is unhappy with the present instructor.
"Well, you are no doubt aware that I fancy myself a bit of a writer," I say with comic modesty.
"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I've never read any of your books," she says.
People often tell me that they have never read my books, perhaps because they are embarrassed, although it is always glaringly obvious to me that they are lying. Given my overall sales figures, it is quite simply statistically impossible. I have worked out that everyone in Britain has read at least two, which is more than you can say for Mr William G Shakespeare. "In that case," I reply, "I'm working on something at the moment which you may be interested in." I hand her the latest pages of my prison diary. She peruses the first few pages intently.
"Actually, I think our creative writing class would do you a lot of good," she says.
"Splendid. When do I start?"
"I can sign you up this week. It's on Friday afternoons. Guard!"
At last, I think, a chance to do something worthwhile in this hellhole.
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Date: 2005-08-02 03:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-02 04:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-02 04:39 pm (UTC)