Ok, It's Time To Confess. I've Become A Thief !

I’m about to bare my soul. I shall not do this in a confessional box with a benevolent priest as, after much thought I'm going public.

You see, the thing is....... I steal.  

There, I’ve said it!

A ageing aunt once told me that kleptomania ran in my family and  therefore my genetic code has suddenly been activated and that devious gene has become a garden, bursting lustily into life. 

Please don't get me wrong, I don’t actually steal “things” as such, meaning it's quite safe for you to invite me into your home as the silverware will, I assure you remain intact.

Quite frankly the fear that goes with stealing an inanimate object and the thought of being caught terrifies me and thus I have never been tempted. A shoplifter I am not, but recently I inadvertently wheeled my trolley full of groceries out of a supermarket without paying! This ‘oversight’ has haunted me ever since as I didn’t realise my dastardly deed until I was at home and to my shame I didn't take the trouble to return with the stolen loot and make a full confession. I now suffer the night sweats, terrified that my wayward deed will condemn me to burn in hell for eternity.  

But, I am proud to announce that lately that I have honed my skills in another department and become a ‘Master Thief.   I now diligently and dare I say it nonchalantly thieve each and every day and  show not an ounce of remorse.

So, what am I stealing?

You!

I’m stealing you!

When I made the conscious decision to become a full time writer it didn’t take me long to realize that my ‘booty bag' of ideas, and clever wit was sadly lacking and, if I were to succeed I would have to embark on a literary life of crime.

That’s not to say I am a plagiarist, although sometimes I am from time to time sorely tempted to ‘lift’ a word here or a phrase there but these days that would be akin to a shoplifter stuffing his or her bag with bounty in full view of the store detective in full view of the  surveillance cameras at the same time.

Theft I have come to realise falls into two categories; envy and covetousness.

Envy because some bugger wrote such a wonderful paragraph that you wish you had, and covetousness because you desperately want it to be yours.

 My tactics have been honed to almost olympic standards and get more and more  brazen, as I’ve adopted the thief’s best disguise, which is to hide in plain sight. After years of copywriting and latterly being a novelist I do believe that I have perfected the art of the steal to the point where  I could even make David Sedaris look like an amateur.

To be a word thief the only tools one requires are  a notebook and a reliable pen coupled with the ability to whip both items out at the drop of a hat in order to record (read, steal) what you have just seen or heard.

My hunting grounds for my devious deeds are the taverns and salubrious bars where all walks of society gather. I sit scribbling away and it doesn’t take long for someone to ask, “ What are you writing there?” Right away, if the quarry looks juicy, you’re in, and in no time flat that curious person will have dropped a ‘gem’ of a phrase or inadvertently given you an idea. I will then, with not a shred of guilt, wait for an opportunity when the ‘victim’s’ attention is distracted and scribble down those rolled gold words.

Inventing characters follows the same procedure whereby I surreptitiously ‘stalk’ my prey, watching and recording a person’s movements. How they sit, stand, inhale a cigarette, laugh or sometimes cry. I monitor their style of dress, the way they wear their hair, the colour of  a woman's  nail polish or their taste in footwear. I have no idea who these people are or what they do; I don’t really care, as all I want is just a little piece of them. Somebody once said, “ Mediocre writers borrow, great writers steal” and once I had read that I adopted it as my mantra.

So there it is, a full confession, so the next time you invite me into your home it’s not the silverware you should be concerned about, rather, its what you say or do.

Paul v Walters is the best selling author of five novels. When not cocooned  in sloth and procrastination in his house in Bali he scribbles for several international travel and vox pop magazines. His latest novel. "Scimitar' will be released in August 2016.