A writer friend and I were talking about - well - what do you expect? - writing - yesterday, and I was telling her what a great writing day I'd had - seven hours at one go, just breaking off to hang out the washing and have a bowl of muesli for breakfast and a sandwich for lunch, and all finished by 2 o clock.
"I've done the fun part," I said. "I've written all the dialogue that sprung into my head without any bidding. Now I have to do the boring bit - go through the text and add bits like she scratched her head and she sat back and folded her arms and she took another sip of her tea."
"Ah yes," said my friend, scratching her head, "making your scene three dimensional. That bit's a real drag, isn't it?"
"If we were rich," I said, sipping my tea, "we could employ assistants, like Bridget Riley does. She thinks up the painting and then gets minions to help her with the actual execution. There's a job there, for impecunious writers: helping other writers change their strips of dialogue into three dimensional scenes. Or maybe we could persuade someone to do it for free as work experience..."
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