I have a secret desire to write novels. Ok, that’s not such a secret now. But when I’ve hung up my copywriting boots, my plan is to lock myself away in a drafty attic and bash out a bestselling novel in the style of, I dunno, Jackie Collins or someone. Yes, that’s it. I could write a bonkbuster set in fast-paced and uber-glam, ermmm, Wimbledon. Yeah, that might need some work.
Anyway, in this month’s Writing Magazine, columnist Stuart Palmer discusses some literary howlers that should never have made it into print.
There’s hope for me yet.
‘The old man opened his eyes metaphorically.’
‘I edged away from her, my hand tipping her face up again, finding her eyes and holding them.’
‘An expression of inexpressible shock crossed his face…’
‘Nothing short of a machine gun could have stopped Gog in this first outburst! He was finally subdued with tear gas.’
‘My face drew back from my skull as if I was vomiting and tears ran from my eyes like blood from gashes. I was sad…’
‘There are sort of pimples all over it, and slime oozing from its skin. I just can’t describe it properly.’
‘He looked at the freshly shaved faces around the table. They were men.’
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‘My face drew back from my skull as if I was vomiting and tears ran from my eyes like blood from gashes. I was sad…’
That’s without doubt the best bit of teenage melodrama I’ve ever seen written. That honestly got published? Really?
It did! I think I’ll use that line the next time a client faffs about with the copy. ‘… tears are running from my eyes like blood from gashes…’
It’s the entirely superfluous “I was sad” that makes it for me. As if the over-wrought emotional trauma wasn’t obvious enough.
Jeffrey Archer.
Or Dan Brown. Check this out from the Daily Telegraph. http://bit.ly/11GbXS
Still, this guy’s a millionaire. What does he care?
Totally agree – the whole of the Da Vinci Code!