Jeg er snart ferdig med å lese Boy av Roald Dahl. Sterk lesning. Opprørende, men også oppløftende. Fordi han skriver om oppveksten sin med humor også, ikke bare med trist og forstemmende sosialrealisme. Det å vokse opp er ingen spøk. Å bli forfatter er heller ikke for pyser. På slutten av boken skriver han om det…. å være forfatter. Til skrekk og advarsel for de av oss som vurderer det....og kanskje en bekreftelse for de som er det.....?
“The life of a writer is absolute hell compared with the life of a businessman. The writer has to force himself to work. He has to make his own hours and if he doesn´t go to his desk at all there is nobody to scold him. If he is a writer of fiction he lives in a world of fear. Each new day demands new ideas and he can never be sure whether he is going to come up with them or not.
….The writer walks out of his workroom in a daze. He wants a drink. He needs it. It happens to be a fact that nearly every writer of fiction in the world drinks more whisky than is good for him. He does it to give himself faith, hope and courage. A person is a fool to become a writer. His only compensation is absolute freedom. He has no master except his own soul, and that, I am sure, is why he does it.”
Vi er herved advart.