I'm no Helen Fielding but.......

Everyone is supposed to have a book in them, well that's how the saying goes.
It's something I've thought about for a long time.

I loved writing stories and poetry when I was at school, although that was a very long time ago. As an adult there have been times when I have written thoughts down, usually when facing some dilemma as a means of looking at the problem objectively, but that's always been more about the issue then the writing itself.

Through the internet I have rediscovered a love of writing, and as much as I like to talk there's a different kind of pleasure I derive from written conversations - it took me a while to figure out that that came from the act of writing as much as what was being said.

My facebook account has become a comedy blog of my chaotic life, I sometimes have very strange but entertaining and entirely fictional conversations with people. For instance I have a running dialogue with one friend in which she is my daughter, and I am her alcoholic promiscuous wreck of a mother whose forever needing to be bailed out having been caught shoplifting. I have these fantasy chats with a lot of people, each one with its own recurrent and often very wrong theme . . . . anyone got a goat fetish ?

People have often said to me that I should write. The desire to do so is what made me think about starting a blog, another persons words inspired me to finally do something about it.

Thanks Shane.

About a year ago I started a book, it was based around a diary kept when a friend, myself and my son went on holiday to Jamaica.
Imagine Bridget Jones with ganga.
I never got very far with it and it was kept on a memory card that broke. Not a problem, I can do that again and probably funnier then it was. But lately I've been thinking about writing an altogether different story. Fuck I've spent the last year thinking about plenty of things I could and should be doing, and for a whole load of reasons that have no place in this blog I've done none of them, but finally last night I started this other story. And the words just flew out of my head and onto my screen.

This one isn't going to be funny.
This shit is real.
It felt good to do it.

I'm not entirely sure quite where it's going either, probably to the dark side.
I might, when I'm happy with the beginning of this story, post it here.
I think I'd like to know if what i write makes the reader want to read more.
We shall see . . . . . .