I wonder if they're open to crime writers...

In Guardian Media today there's an ad for Writers in Residence vacancies for four of her majesty's prisons. Each position comes with a fairly decent salary, for a writing position, but I only read the ad briefly, so am not sure of the additional duties it entails, though I imagine creative writing with inmates is probably on the list.

The ad isn't online yet, but I thought some of the readers of this blog might be interested.

Talking tables

Sadie Jones, she of The Outcast fame, talks writing and common sense over on Untitled Books.

Poor hippos

I wonder if Aliya and I will finally hit the big time once we've played our part in a real crime and then co-written a fictionalised account of it.

I know there are plenty of co-authored novels out and about, but I was interested to learn--browsing the shelves on Charing Cross Road and surreptitiously sneaking copies of Light Reading onto premium shelves--of And The Hippos Were Boiled In Their Tanks, a book written by Jack Kerouac and William S Burroughs before they hit the big time. It's a fictitionalised account of a murder investigation they were both involved with. It's written as a twin-narrative, the same structure Aliya and I have used for all our pieces together (I guess the easiest form in some ways for writing a piece together, but it's also easy for the two segments to clash).

I'm sure if Aliya and I were ever to do the same, it would more likely be about our parts in an incident where someone was found to be riding a bicycle after dark without a light on.

I've not read any Burroughs, I don't think, and I read On the Road when I was seventeen. It's fair to say I didn't get it. And am in no hurry to revisit.

Also, speaking of being let down by a book, I finally finally finished One Hundred Years of Solitude. Found myself quietly disappointed. I grant the book contains great writing, both structurally and in the prose, and I don't regret reading it, but the book had been so built-up in my mind, I guess it suffered from over-hype and had far too much to live up to. The ending in particular, after the commitment required on the reader's part, left me feeling rather let down.

Still, I've heard accounts of others crying because it had ended, so it's all subjective, huh? As for the hippos, you're welcome to them.

Who are you?

As someone experiencing a similar predicament to the writer Emma is detailing in her post--although I know I can still do a bit more to improve the two manuscripts looking for a home, and I'm not particularly frustrated either--the latest post on This Itch of Writing kind of interesting.

I'm not that analytical on the technical side of things, but try and pay attention to the mechanics of the art of writing, if that makes sense and doesn't sound too pretentious. The question of what work best suits a writer is at the crux of Emma's post. It's an interesting question. Maybe an easier one for writers like Aliya and me to answer, as we write so many short stories. Personally I was delighted with Overturned, the story we wrote together. So, what story or book do you feel is you, cooking on gas, all cylinders firing?

Which type of writer are you?

I'm sure Mr Cords and his gold-pantalooned friend are lovely people, but, but if no one tells them, they're not going to learn, are they?

Following Aliya's post, here's my theory about the social archetypes of writer:

Tier 5 - gregarious failures (ie, they are too get round to writing enough)
Tier 4 - introverted minor successes
Tier 3 - gregarious mainstream commercial successes
Tier 2 - literary snobs
Tier 1 - tortured geniuses

So, which one are you?