“Remember not only to say the right thing in the right place, but far more difficult still, to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment.” - Ben Franklin
Some people think that ff, Flawnt’s signature, stands for “fearless Finn”. This week, Virtual Writers, Inc. sent ff as a correspondent into the thick of the NaNoWriMo battle, which is waged all over the world with hundreds of thousands of combattants wearing viking helmets, with nothing but a pen or a feathered quill for a weapon, high hopes between the horns.
The scene: a Scottish castle in the Highlands where “Bloody Management”, an in vitro novel by Flawnt currently consisting of 37,931 words in no particular order (rumoured to be opted by The Institute of Jesuit Sources after “Illuminati” was found out to be historically irreparably flawed), is being created with an international cast of B-actors many of which were hiding, at the time of our visit, behind Movement moustaches.
After getting turned down by Hestia, the book’s heroine, and the central antagonist, the bearded, reckless CEO of the company, Champ DeLorean, Flawnt managed to corner the main protagonist, Nicholas Dart, and, holding him at flawntpoint, extract an interview with him of which we publish only a fragment:
Flawnt: So tell me, Mr Dart, how does it feel to be part of a novel?
Nicholas Dart: I am flattered and honoured to be here.
Flawnt: Great. I’m sure our readers will appreciate that. How is your relationship with your creator?
Nicholas Dart: Well, I don’t know much about him, really. I am not even aware of his name.
Flawnt: His nom de plume is Finnegan Flawnt.
Nicholas Dart: Never heard of him. Should I have?
Flawnt: Not necessarily. But he’s writing you and without him you wouldn’t be here.
Nicholas Dart: I don’t know about that. I like to think that I was there all along and was only lifted out of this gentleman’s unconscious.
Flawnt: But surely you cannot deny the superior role played by the writer in putting together …
Nicholas Dart: …I feel a little used, actually.
Flawnt: How do you mean?
Nicholas Dart: I say it quite clearly in the beginning of the book…
Flawnt: …there isn’t really a book yet…
Nicholas Dart: …of this rough first draft then – I say very clearly that I’m confused and looking for guidance. Instead, I am merrily being led by the nose around the country, find myself in company that I didn’t ask for, in places I didn’t know existed, doing things I feel unprepared for…
Flawnt: But what about the love of your life, Hestia?
Nicholas Dart: I find her annoying, mostly, though I cannot deny a certain attraction that, however, feels uncanny and sometimes forced.
Flawnt: I am sorry.
Nicholas Dart: You should be. I recognise you now, though you’ve gone to quite some length to disguise your true identity: you are Finnegan Flawnt!
Flawnt: (nods in a characteristic way)
Nicholas Dart: You even have my nod!
Flawnt: Actually, you have my nod.
At this point, things were starting to get ugly. Suddenly, nothing that had made sense in Flawnt’s head, sentences that were already beautifully formed in his mind, situations that seemed ripe for action, and plot holes ready to be filled with treasures, worked on the paper anymore. Meeting his main character in person made him think that he had merely taken the worst of himself and wrapped it in wordcoats whose tails he was dragging through the mud.
He was almost three weeks into the contest with himself and was beginning to doubt if really he was a worthy adversary. There was only one way to find out: eyes closed, mind shut, listening only to the mumbling voices from within. So he did and wrote on.
And it was good.
Virtually yours,
Flawnt Alchemi (virtually absent during November)
