I don't know if I'm feeling nostalgic. And if I do, it's all Michael Scott's fault .
Er - Michael Scott?
Yes. Michael Scott. On Twitter today, he posted a reminder that it was in fact on this date, in 1843, that Charles Dickens' 'A Christmas Carol' was first published. Something that one day would make Alastair Sim and a large number of other people (including me ) very happy. But it got me thinking. And nostalgic. And so, a break from our usual programming. It's Shakespeare, Cap'n! But not as we learned it....
With apologies to the Beard of Avon - The Seven Ages of Writing.
All the world’s a book
And many men and women seek to write it
They have their prologues and their chapter lists
And one hand in its time makes many marks
Each hand hath seven ages. At first the newbie
Scribbled and scratching in some midnight hour
Then, the hopeful setting of first Query
Some jumbled, cluttered prose to Agent sent
In fulsome confidence. And then dejected
Receives Rejection, cruel unloving answer
Most often simply Form page. Then, still stubborn
New Queries made, Synopsis laboured hard
Not one but many, set to submission guidelines
Seeking the prize, representation,
Even in Rejection’s face. And then the winning
Some Agent gaining, with wordy contract bound
New published, store shelves heavy with new book
And new bold wit for those still Querying
Then so, now Author made, the sixth age shifts
Into the wise and worthy one of words
With long backlist to name, and movie deal
That old first Query now some thing of pride
And sold at auction for some goodly price
Turning again to books once set aside
Form Reject once, now sought by all
Then on to the last chapter each must go
When each must fade, an old forgotten scribe
Sans words, sans fire, sans dreams – sans everything