It’s a big week for books in the UAE – the Emirates Airline Festival of Literature has started, with more than 140 authors in attendance. I’ve booked all kinds of workshops and talks to learn more tricks of the trade and can’t wait to get stuck in.
Whether he likes it or not, Son1 is coming with me this year – I’ve found him a session entitled Unofficial Minecraft and the Quest for Justice. Seems right up his street.
My excitement about the LitFest peaked a few days ago, on the school run, when my fave DJ Catboy ran a segment on Dubai92 Breakfast inviting writers to send in the first line of their novel. I couldn’t resist, and fired off three texts as soon as I got home.
Well, my words got on the radio! They even called me a ‘serial writer’. It was such a feel-good moment, especially when, as wordsmiths, we spend endless hours hunched over our keyboards, tapping away, in isolation.
Here are the lines. They’re from a book of short stories I’m writing about Dubai, a sort of best-of-the-blog mixed with some humourous fiction that (inshallah) I hope to bring you soon! Watch this space – and if you’re a budding novelist, please tell me your first line in the comments section, or on this blog’s Facebook page. I’d LOVE to hear from you, even if your book isn’t finished.
I’d just dropped my kids at school when I bumped into her; standing half-hidden behind a palm tree, sobbing into her hankie, big fat tears and Bobbi Brown mascara streaming down her crumpled face.
The Robot Help
“Over my dead body,” Marcie cried, fixing her eyes on her husband’s face to see if he was serious about replacing their housemaid with a robot cleaner; behind him the shadows thrown from the palm tree outside cast long, spindly fingers on the newly painted walls.
The Pearl Divers
Amir peered into the seawater – a shadow caught his eye, a murky flickering with indistinct edges at least fifteen feet down, but it was gone before the smudge became a man.