I wouldn't say that I'm a bad writer and certainly I couldn't ever put myself alongside the likes of Tolkien nor would i wish to for the man was unique in his writing.
However whilst preparing my short stories for publication i came across some very clunky prose of mine that I'd written many years ago. I've been amending them so it that the words make sense in the context of the story and that it flows better.
This made me think, whilst some of that early prose was bad, what have I read that was worse?
Then from the dawn of time came a book that I remember reading and it was so dire that I had actually opened the train window and had thrown the thing out.
It was called Battle for the Planet of the Apes by David Gerrold. Now normally Mr Gerrold is a fair writer who'd done The Trouble with Tribbles for Star Trek and hasn't brought anything else out that makes me want to vomit, until it comes to this work.
The guy must have a had a very bad day at the office when he wrote this bit of dreck.
The paragraphs collide into each other like two fat ladies roaring drunk and wanting to wrestle. The dialogue is so stilted you can use them as window dummies and the descriptions are like...
He ran
He ran some more.
He stopped.
Looking around he went to run some more.
You get the idea.
Before this book I'd read some clunkers but generally persevered until I got to the end, once done the books were quietly put away and never spoke of in polite company again but when I got to about a third of the way through this one I realized that the pain was never going to end and life had more meaning than wasting my time going any further.
So I snapped the book shut, well when I say snapped I mean more like slammed, yanking open the carriage window I hurled it as far as I could. I watched with pleasure as it whirled into the trees before vanishing from my ken forever.
By my reckoning David must have decided that the script he was working from was crap and thus had nothing really worthwhile investing in it except for the money the studio had paid him to do the adaption. The fellow must have churned it out in an afternoon and damn any artistic merit. He had his pay day and that's that.
Before anyone wishes to argue I'm sure that if you asked the man himself he'd agree with me and will hold his hand to his heart and say, "yup, it's crap."
However whilst preparing my short stories for publication i came across some very clunky prose of mine that I'd written many years ago. I've been amending them so it that the words make sense in the context of the story and that it flows better.
This made me think, whilst some of that early prose was bad, what have I read that was worse?
Then from the dawn of time came a book that I remember reading and it was so dire that I had actually opened the train window and had thrown the thing out.
It was called Battle for the Planet of the Apes by David Gerrold. Now normally Mr Gerrold is a fair writer who'd done The Trouble with Tribbles for Star Trek and hasn't brought anything else out that makes me want to vomit, until it comes to this work.
The guy must have a had a very bad day at the office when he wrote this bit of dreck.
The paragraphs collide into each other like two fat ladies roaring drunk and wanting to wrestle. The dialogue is so stilted you can use them as window dummies and the descriptions are like...
He ran
He ran some more.
He stopped.
Looking around he went to run some more.
You get the idea.
Before this book I'd read some clunkers but generally persevered until I got to the end, once done the books were quietly put away and never spoke of in polite company again but when I got to about a third of the way through this one I realized that the pain was never going to end and life had more meaning than wasting my time going any further.
So I snapped the book shut, well when I say snapped I mean more like slammed, yanking open the carriage window I hurled it as far as I could. I watched with pleasure as it whirled into the trees before vanishing from my ken forever.
By my reckoning David must have decided that the script he was working from was crap and thus had nothing really worthwhile investing in it except for the money the studio had paid him to do the adaption. The fellow must have churned it out in an afternoon and damn any artistic merit. He had his pay day and that's that.
Before anyone wishes to argue I'm sure that if you asked the man himself he'd agree with me and will hold his hand to his heart and say, "yup, it's crap."
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