George was a pretty good writer. At least, he definitely wasn’t a bad writer. Two separate agents had told him they liked the start of his novel. Keep writing, they said. And the editor of a magazine had once written that he liked the idea of one of his stories, even if the story itself wasn’t quite right for the magazine.
He’d always been a good writer. When he was eight or nine he won a prize for an essay about the fields where they used to walk with his uncle’s dog, and after that he always knew he’d be a writer. He stopped writing for a while when he was a teenager and then through university – he was too busy studying and fooling around! – and for a while after he left university he still didn’t write, but then at some point he felt the need to start again and now he knew he’d never stop. It was the one thing he was good at and it was all he wanted to do. His whole life was organised around writing, and in particular around finishing his novel. Continue reading “Keep writing, they said by Christopher Branson”
