Have we all got a book in us? Not a physical book, of course, a book that lives within us waiting to turn itself into wonderful words on a page or 2, or 356 or whatever the published thinks is enough. That's not to imply that it should be published, but surely one of the reasons anyone would write a book would be to have it read by others.
My father had started a book, although I have no idea when he started writing. He sadly died at the age of 63 from an industrial disease which slightly scuppered his longer term plans so I'll never know what his intentions were.
I have in mind a sitcom, or at least that's my current incarnation of my writing. I've been through the book stage and now, after some serious contemplation (as I went off to sleep last week) sitcom it is.
Saves someone doing the screenplay I suppose.
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