In which I discover I am not quite perfect. Oh, the shame!

I have come to the conclusion (reluctantly, of course) that I might not be perfect.

Silence your gasps of amazement and disbelief, I don’t mean that I’m not perfect in any practical way.  My mane of tousled blonde hair remains the envy of all and my perfect thighs mean that we need not buy a nutcracker this Christmas (seriously, where do they all go?  Every Christmas a new nutcracker – it can’t be natural).And yet, I find myself falling short of my own, amazingly high standards.   

                                                           By about this much usually.

Mostly this happens when writing.  It has come to my attention that I have a tendency for my characters (let’s call them ‘Molly’ and ‘Phinn’ for such are their names) to call one another by their given names all the damn time.  Now I know that people use names to attract someone’s attention, to direct a comment etc, but these two just keep on and on Mollying and Phinning until I’m tired of the pair of them.

Now, bearing in mind that my dear husband and I rarely use one another’s names, preferring to refer to one another as ‘husband’ and ‘stenchblob’, I find this constant waving about of personal names quite offensive.  She’s called Molly, shut up about it, already!  Actually, now I come to think about it, I’m not sure my husband actually knows my name.  We were both very drunk when we were introduced and I’m sure the minister mumbled over that bit during our wedding ceremony.  He probably thinks I’m called ‘Fnrfrt’, which is eyecatching but not that great on a book jacket.

 

Anyway.  My imperfections, slight as they are.  I am finding that I am writing dialogue exactly as it is spoken.  Which gives rise to...errr...you know, that thing...umm...ooh, did you see Merlin last night?  Wasn’t that the bloke from...thingie, oh, you know the one with the owls in?...ow, bit my tongue there... umm....thingie.  Digressions, that’s the thing.  For dialogue shouldn’t be true to life, but more ‘true to how life would be if it was all shiny and no-one ever farted or coughed inappropriately or suddenly had to go to the toilet in the middle of....

 

Ah, there you are.  Sorry, I just had to...um, answer the phone.  So.  Yes.  I hate to disillusion you all, but I am not perfect.  Well, I am, mostly, but, you know.  Still ‘down with the people’ as you young folks say.  

Sorry.