Something new.

I was asked to write some creative writing by a guy for a thing. This is what I wrote:

Frank Sartor: A Novel by James Ross-Edwards

Frank Sartor awoke with a start. It was 4:51am. Nightmares and cold sweats were routine for him, and he cursed the day he ever decided to be a crime-solving pilot. Hauling himself upright, Frank answered his bedside phone, which had been ringing for some time.
"Hello?" He answered, grumpily.
"My name is Detective Amber Liebervitz, I am calling on urgent business from Europe." The voice was foreignly accented, and perhaps sinister.
"Hey listen buddy, it's the middle of the night– "
"Mr Sartor." The clipped European voice continued. "I suggested you listen, and listen carefully-"
"No I suggest you listen!" Frank was getting mad. If there was something he didn't like, it was getting woken up by a nut. And this is exactly what had just happened. “Mr Liebervitz, I’m a pilot that solves crime. Do you have any idea how busy I am? I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks. With all due respect, this better be important.”
“It’s the Bermuda Triangle, Mr Sartor.”
“What about it?”
“You will be informed in good time, Sir. That is, if you agree to help us.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“There is a car waiting for you. Good day, Mr Sartor.”

Frank sighed and reached for his pilot’s pants. It was going to be a long day.

---

For lack of any material of my own, I have commissioned a friend of mine, Frank, to write creatively on my behalf. I pay him in friendship and an occasional cooked dinner, and he completes my assignments and any other projects that come my way. Frank is not a brilliant author or particularly creative, but, unbeknownst to himself, his writing comes across with a distinct postmodern edge. The pastiche is thickened when the work is passed off as my own, resulting in an alarmingly satisfying dialogue between author and audience:
"Are you having a pretty satisfying time, reader?"
"I'm having such a satisfying time, dude."*

*Simplified conversation

---

"So James, what have you been up to lately?"
"Not much, hey. Writing some fiction and stuff a bit, I s'pose."
"What sort of fiction?"
"The kind that isn't true. It mainly focuses on a central character called Frank Sartor."
“…”
"Oh and before you ask, it isn't anything to do with the former NSW Government Minister!"
"Yeah. I know. You know another guy called Frank Sartor. You tell me this every time you drink. You texted me those exact words last week."
"A cry for help, a –"
"What?"
"Sorry man, I was just starting a soliloquy. Do you read much Contemp-Amer?"
"Wha–"
"Contemporary American literature. Like Dave Eggers, McSweeney’s and that. It's crap, I hate it. So much smug irony, all playing with language. I swear I'm going to cancel my subscription soon..."
"This is a lopsided conversation."
"(d)ude sometimes you have to play with the laws of language and gramm’ar for a certain effect."
"It sounds like you're crying out for help. All just John Brogden-ing in the office you don't actually have. Just like, three gin and tonics with actual lime wedges, texting an old school friend something cryptic and vague that could mean something, but doesn't."*

---

On the way to the cockpit, Frank remembered that he was wearing his lucky blue satin boxer shorts. His crime-solving mentor, Captain Joe Harvey, had given them to him, as a graduation present, and he never flew without them. Yeah Boi, he thought to himself. Yeah boiii.*


*I’m sorry James, but I don't know where to continue to from here. Spicks and Specks is about to start. Below I have included an internet diary that I’ve been working on. Maybe you can include this in your novel about me?
Frank ☺

Frank is sick of work now. 07:17 PM September 22, 2008

At nans. 01:42 PM September 23, 2008

1 spaghetti bolognese please Mum! 10:30 PM September 23, 2008

Frank is maybe actually gearing up for a big night in The Cross??? 04:22 PM September 25, 2008