Personal Blogs

Cuthbert Dry-Monotone talks to a successful writer about his long and eventually fruitful endeavours to be published.  During the conversation, he hopes to prove that SPUE has never been afraid to make use of the experience of writers on the margins of mainstream literature. 

“Good afternoon.  Welcome to Part 5 of this…” [Sound of suppressed sob.] “…audio CD.  I am here with Marmaduke Smugg, the best-selling author of Money for Old Rope.  He is going to explain how he approached the extremely difficult task of getting his work published.  Hello, Marmaduke.”

“Hello, Cuthbert.”

“Can you tell us what kind of work it was that you first tried to publish?”

“It was a short story – about 1500 words.”

“I see.  And did you research what kind of publication you were going to submit it to?”

“Yes.  Extensively.”

“And can you explain what methods you used to do this research?”

“It was mainly looking at the top shelves in various newsagents’ shops, especially the one behind the railway station with the blacked-out windows.”

“Er…Isn’t that a sex-shop rather than a newsagent?”

“Whatever.”

“And how many, er… ‘publications’ did you submit your work to before it was finally accepted.”

“Approximately one.”

“One?”

“Yes.”

“Approximately.”

“Yes.”

“I see.  And what was the next thing that you wrote?”

“A screenplay.”

“A film script?  And what was the film called?”

“Red Hot Anal Nurses Rubber Double-Ender Extravaganza.”

“Er…I think we might edit that out.  Did you get paid for this?”

“Of course: nine thousand pounds.”

[Slightly off-mike] “Nearly enough for a fortnight in the Maldives.” 

“Erm…And what did that lead to?”

“Well, for a start, I had birds with great big bazookas falling all over me for months on end.  And then I was approached by an American concern who wanted to harness my talent.”

“Harness your talent?”

“Yes.  They wanted me to play the ‘sub’ in a bondage-flick called Irrigate My Leather Valley.”

“Er…I think we might edit that out.  What happened next?”

“I started to write Money for Old Rope.”

“I see.  And how did you arrive at the title of that novel?”

“Well, after I had discussed it with the publisher and signed the contract, it seemed rather like, um…, Money for Old Rope.”

“In what way?”

“The publisher told me that they would pay for me to shag a new bint every day for a year, and I had to write a book with exactly three-hundred and sixty-six pages (it was a leap year, you see).” 

“Er…And so…What was each page about?”

“Well…I shagged three-hundred and sixty-six women…”

“Yes?”

“And the book has three-hundred and sixty-six pages…”

“Yes?”

“And so…”

“Each page covers one shag?”

“You’ve got it.”

“With all due respect, that is scarcely literature.”

“Who cares?  I got five-hundred grand for it.”

[Slightly off-mike]  “Could you give me the address of this publisher?”

[Slightly off-mike]  “Not until I’ve seen the size of your todger.”

“CUT!”  [Muttering.]  “I shouldn’t be here.  I really must make a start on my PhD thesis.”