Crikey, I've been tagged by that famous fantasy author,
|Treat Yourself: The Diamond Eyes Trilogy|
as part of that world-wide fun-fest promoting...:
5 writers who tag 5 others with 5Q's from an MC
re their "Next Big Thing"
So let's give it a swing with a ring, [laughing]:
Interrogation of a
sly shy banshee
Sooooo… "What’s your Next Big Thing"?
… while we’re all wallowing, dieting, caroling
on a prayer and a wing, and we struggle to string
more than two words we can sing without seeming… unhinged?
Answer: Beats me, [blush] I’m winging it.
But how do you cope with it? … get through it? Or even think of it?
Each little bit, as we struggle to sit and get ideas to fit
On a page that just WON'T submit, and when others all quit
How come you don’t split & simply admit that you’re just like us… a misfit?
Answer: Beats me, [blush] I’m just having fun with it.
will your next big thing hinge on your last big thing?
Are they linked in a series, in a straight line or ring?
Will there be killing? … More shootings, knifings and glassings?
More stalking, more hawking, more hot sex and… voyeur-ing?
Answer: [blush] … what do you think?
Now don’t suffer stage fright, and don’t be im-polite.
You can’t be contrite when it’s clear you’re forthright.
Please accept this invite, and provide an insight…
Do you write late at night, or maybe rise at first light?
Oh, please speak of your plight – of that one writer’s blight -
it turns ALL authors white; it’s where to find time to write… and re-write?
Answer: [blush] By staying out of the limelight.
Phew, finally! I think we’re cracking this key!
Break out the Chablis and let’s all shout yippee!
An insight from Ms B; she answered verbally!
Answer: [Smack!... Smiling cheekily]
Oh, my dear sweet MC, need some ice for that cheek?
Crikey! … apologies… had no idea you could be so…
Ah… [gulp]… how about gutsy?
Please don’t pander the banshee.
I keep her caged for my writing.
… Let’s just settle on "esprit".
Fine, and we’ll start again, shall we?
Ahem… [clearing throat and shifting awkwardly]
Time to scratch my goatee, and re-start as MC…
‘Dear author this week… what’s your Next Big Thing?’
Let’s not go there, shall we?
But it's the whole point, apparently.
I can see through that plea. It's called subtext, in Text World Theory.
Ahem. You've lost me.
It's really quite easy:
You didn’t come to sight-see a performing monkey.
I’m not a trustee, a draftee, adoptee or Queen Bee.
Like you, I’m a trainee, still racing the Grand Prix.
So set up your marquee, pitch your tent by my tree,
Chill a glass for your Chablis, and spit shine your degree
But don’t ask me to fore-see how to access the party.
It’s not for invitees, wanna-bes, addressees or even cat copies.
It’s for devotees, and WILL-bes, and fans who rise from the debris.
It’s for those who look leeringly, with love and lust at a dictionary.
It’s for the crazy, the nutty, and the whole damn fruit tree.
So don’t ask me indirectly about your OWN next big thing.
Just sit down and write it, and ride the wild ride beside me.
Psst… my next big thing? It’s really top secret.
This was a re-post by popular demand from my old blog-site.
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