Jim Crace

There was a superb article in the yesterday's paper, in which writer Jim Crace printed replies to would-be writers badgering him for advice on the perils of completing that oh-so important first book. A sample:

Dear Alison,
It was so nice to be recognised in the restaurant last night. I appreciate you coming across to introduce yourself to me and my wife and was touched that you went to the trouble of abandoning your meal and your friends to hurry home for your manuscript. I feel a bit guilty about the little scrape you had with your car on the way back. All in a good cause, I suppose.

Then later:

But, then, what if I had read The Lizard? What use would that be for you? I don't have a printing press in my garage. Editors do not phone to seek my opinions. And if I showered them with recommendations or endorsed every manuscript that came my way, then you may be sure they would conspire to be in a meeting whenever I called, or out at lunch, in every meaning of that phrase. My opinion counts for hardly anything. I live in Birmingham. You might as well ask your spouse or friend or cousin to read your unpublished books for all the good it will do you. None of them will tell you the truth. They will pretend they loved it or they will affect amused indifference if your success would be threatening. Besides, what if all your aquaintances adored The Lizard? You are still no closer to being published. "Dear Sirs, I enclose my novel for your consideration. All of my seven neighbours think it is wonderful."