Exodus by Iyer Lars

Author:Iyer, Lars [Iyer, Lars]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
ISBN: 9781612191836
Publisher: Melville House
Published: 2013-01-28T20:00:00+00:00

‘Think of what others might have achieved in your place’, W. says. ‘Think of what others might have done had they been given what you were given’. A desk. A computer. A set of bookshelves. And time, W. says. Above all: time.

I’m a usurper, aren’t I?, W. says. I’ve taken the place someone else should have had. Someone cleverer than me, of course, W. says. More hard-working. Yes, he can picture it, W. says. Someone slimmer than me, dressed in a black shirt and black jeans. Someone taller than me, built like a missile of thought.

God knows, I’ve taken his place, too, W. says. I’ve taken his time. In fact, I’ve taken everyone’s time, everyone who’s had to listen to me, and, heaven forfend, to read me.

‘Why do you write such bad books?’, W. wonders, as he often does. Of course, it’s a sign that something has collapsed that I can publish anything at all. Do I think I could have published something in the old days?, he says. Do I think I could have brought out a first book and then a second book when there were proper publishers and proper editors?

Ah, how did I slip past the gatekeepers? How did I slip a first book and then a second book past them? I thought I’d been cunning — I thought I’d been clever, W. knows that. Here’s a chance, here’s a niche, I thought. No one’s looking, I thought. A doorway has opened, and if I just sneak through …

I thought I’d seen an opportunity, W. says. I thought I’d seen something no one else had seen: a chance, a possibility. I thought I’d got one over on the world, which in fact I hadn’t. I thought I’d stolen a march on the real thinkers, the real writers, who were too busy procrastinating to seize the day.

Oh, they might be able to think, they might be able to write, but only I’m hungry enough, that’s what I thought, isn’t it? Only I’m keen enough to see the situation for what it is, and take advantage of it, that was it, wasn’t it? Only I’m desperate enough: that’s what I told myself. I’ve been out in the cold so long, I whimpered to myself. I’ve suffered enough, I wept to myself, and the tears glistened on my cheeks.

I was a member of the real world, that’s what I thought, wasn’t it?, W. says. I was in the business of marketing, of self-marketing, as you have to be in the real world, that’s what I said to myself. And when there was an opportunity, when there was a chance to publish, why should I hold back?

I knew I was writing rubbish, that’s what gets to him, W. says. I was gleefully writing rubbish, gleefully publishing rubbish … They’ll publish any old thing!, I cried to myself. They’ll accept any old drivel!

Shamelessness: that was it, W. says. I am a shameless man. Let the others procrastinate, I have a book to publish, I thought.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.