Novelist Louisa Young falls foul of author’s curse again

 
15 April 2014

Who knew writing could be so dangerous? Louisa Young was supposed to be at the British Library last night to discuss her First World War novel My Dear I Wanted to Tell You — a tale of love, death and maxillofacial reconstructive surgery and this year’s London Cityread. Instead, she was lying in Charing Cross Hospital, recovering from a maxillofacial infection.

“I honestly wasn’t trying a bit of Stanislavski-style research for the sequel,” said Young. “That’s finished and coming out next month. But alas this sort of thing happens to me all the time.

“I once wrote a novel about an ex-biker single mother with a bad leg and a policeman boyfriend living in Shepherd’s Bush, and by the time I finished it I was an ex-biker single mother with a bad leg and a policeman boyfriend living in Shepherd’s Bush. I have to be very careful what I write about. Unfortunately no one wants books about winning the Lottery and living quietly ever after.”

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