Gordon Bennett;….. It’s Alan Bennett!

Unless you’re a snowman, a young child who likes sledging/throwing snowballs or own a grit salt production company, I presume you opine this current weather to be a putrid carbuncle on the UK’s façade.

Before proceeding, I acknowledge my opening paragraph describing Blighty’s present meteorology was over-egging the melodrama, however I didn’t want to just start this narrative by penning “Blimey, this weather is rubbish, isn’t it?!”

Alan Bennett proffers the real art in writing is for the words to paint it’s reader a vivid scene. Creating a canvas transporting them into your imaginary domain, where they live and breathe the picture you’re conveying, as extra on the landscape….. It wasn’t the acclaimed Leeds-born playwright Alan Bennett that gave that literary advice, it was a similarly named butcher in Castleford.

Despite, purveyor of fine meat Alan Bennett’s creative writing inexperience, deeming it rational guidance, I embraced his sage-like musings – Concluding that my daily journals would benefit immeasurably by adhering to the man’s teachings.

If truth be told, by implying he was an inexperienced author, I gave the meat merchant more kudos than he warranted. He’s actually never written a word of a creative nature…… Unless creative writing encompasses jotting down ‘1lb braising steak, 2lb pork belly and 6 rashers of bacon’ on paper meat wrappers.

Anyway, the advice couldn’t have been from the famous Alan Bennett as not only have I never asked for his esteemed literary guidance, but I’ve never even met him. Our penmanship on polar plateaus, the Oxbridge educated, multi-award winning writer of whimsy moves in higher circles than yours truly. Place of birth and both possessing eyesight requiring optical correction my only common denomination to the former Armley lad.

My granddad had a shop on Stanningley Road in Armley in the late 1960’s/early 1970’s. Bennett and his family had moved away from the area by then, otherwise my paternal grandpop may’ve had the accolade of selling him pen and paper used for a critically acclaimed piece of the writer’s work.

Bennett has a six decade back-catalogue of work receiving numerous plaudits, Broadway and West End theatre exposure, fame and no doubt wealth. My seventeen self-published tomes far less critically acclaimed – Although my mum opined one of the 1,050 blogs I’ve written was “Quite funny.”

bennet

My work isn’t monetised, whereas Alan Bennett has the literary wherewithal to generously line his pockets; reward for the skilled penmanship and popularity of his lexilogical landscapes.

Possessing little knowledge of the respective artistic merits of writers and painters, I’m loathe to make comparison’s like Bennett is the literary equivalent of, say, a Constable in the landscape painting world….. However, I can say with certainty Mr B reached a higher plateau with his art than that achieved by Bob Carolgees and Spit the Dog.

Personally, my aspirations creativity wise are to get to Bob and Spit’s artistic achievement. Although, I’d hope I wasn’t moved to expectorate on stage as often as the canine hand puppet. An deeply objectionable habit for which I blame the parents, or the ventriloquist.

I’m approaching the three year landmark of my inaugural blog and the creation of my website writesaidfred.org. I started the literary project as a distraction from the challenging aspects of my family life, which continue to blight on our existences.

This self-therapy that has seen my grow as a writer and in self-confidence, at a time when looking up from the gutter I deemed myself unemployable with little to offer. A notion which, after some of the mental fog evaporated, I realised to be absolute nonsense .

Over those three years, I’ve penned over 1,050 pieces, had over 31,000 hits on my website from 130+ countries and during writing sessions eaten my body weight in gummy bears. I’ve also turned excerpts from my narratives into 17 self-published books.

Thanks to everyone whose taken the time to read them. I’m appreciative of your support during this cathartic project.

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