Tuesday, 11 March, 2014 – 00:00
Much to my shock, the book has now grown to the point where it has to be reformatted to take account of its new thickness (that is in the number of pages, not the stupidity of the author).
So all the graphics that were carefully sized are now in the process of being resized as part of the pre-production process. Oh, and we’ve got the ISBN numbers but I’m not sure if that means it can be pre-ordered. I’m a bit hazy on the practicalities, partly because I’ve reached the point of doing nothing except writing. If I could have Nescafe’s Blend 37 on a drip, I would. (1)
Ten days ago, I had two chapters outstanding. After writing one of those, now I have three outstanding. Each piece of research seems to spawn at least one more.
This is the first work ever to examine the concept of suspicion from multiple angles. Today, for example, I’ve been looking at, amongst other things, the impact on decision making of hormonal cycles, a 19th Century anarchist and Marxists, demonstrating that there are influences from these that today filter through into the way we, in our ordinary lives, consider crime.
When a chapter includes a man in a burka and Prince Charles in a yarmulke, you know I’m not so much losing the plot as struggling to contain it while explaining complex stuff in a simple way.
“There are those that argue that individual ownership of property is wrong and that property should be in common ownership: this, at its heart, is the credo of the graffiti artist who paints on the white walls of someone’s home because, despite clear property rights, he says that the wall is a public display and therefore the public (i.e. he) should be able to decorate it as he thinks fit. It is, therefore an anarchic approach: everyone has rights therefore no one has rights.”
It’s a fascinating subject: when someone says “how do I know if I’m suspicious?” instead of a glib phrase like “it’s when you think something isn’t right,” you’re going to realise that the question is simple but the background anything but.
Now, tired as I am, it’s time to go back to writing or this thing will never be done.
(1) I can’t because the horrid people at Nestlé refuse to import it into Malaysia. Miserable lot that they are.
© 2014 Nigel Morris-Cotterill
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