Thursday, 20 January 2011

A post about nothing in particular and everything peculiar.

A lot of my time nowadays is sat thinking at the very desk I am writing to you from now. If thinking were a sport I'm pretty sure I'd qualify for the Commonwealth Games (I was going to say Olympics but let's not get ahead of ourselves.)

That is not to say that I think of myself as some great philosopher akin to the likes of Plato, Aristotle and Stephen Fry. No, my thought processes usually begin by me trying to think of a plausible script idea and end up with me thinking about what I should cook for tea or how many tabs I think I'll be able to open on my computer before it crashes.

One of the main questions I have begun to ponder lately is in relation to my silent writing partner, Max. Now Max is not your average person in the sense that he is in fact a dog. But sometimes it's helpful talking to a dog about some of your ideas especially as he is quite adept at constructive criticism.

One look from those big brown eyes and I can tell whether it's - as some old bloke with a quill and a dodgy haircut once wrote - 'to be or not to be'.

"Are you joking?"
And so recently, because I have begun to sense that there is more to Max than meets the eye, I have started testing him. Asking him every now and again to blink twice if he understands what I'm saying to him. He doesn't usually cooperate but then why would he?

For now, he has an excuse:

'Oh sorry I slept on your bed after getting all muddy on my walk, but hey I'm a dog. How was I supposed to know?'

He'll crack one day and when he does then maybe my 'co-writer' can finally start pulling his weight.

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