The lady who works in the grocery store at the corner of my block is called Denise and she is one of America's great unpublished novelits. Over the years she's written forty-two romantic novels, none of which have ever reached the bookstores. I, however, have been fortunate to hear the plots of the last twenty-seven of these recounted in installments by he authoress herself every time I drop by the store for a jar of coffee or can of beans, and my respect for Denise's literary prowess knows no bounds. So, naturallly enough, when I found myself with the daunting task of actually starting the book you now hold in your hands, it was Denise I turned to for advice. "Listen", I said. "I don't know from writing a book. I have all this stuff in my head that I want to get down, but what do write about fiirst? Where do I begin?"
Without looking up from the boxes of detergent to which she was fixing price tags, Denise graciously delivered up a pearl of her accumulated wisdom in a voice of bored but benign condescsension.
"Start off with the saddest thing you can think of and get the audience's sympathies on your side. After that, believe me, it's a walk."
Watchmen, Alan Moore & Dave Gibbons 1986-87.
In other news: the family has returned, domestic strife and I've been made redundant. Hence the lack of blogging ....
