In this fun little ghost flick based on the book The House in Marsh Road by Laurence Meynell, David Linton is a "novelist" who is working on the novel that's going to end all his and his wife Jean's problems -- once he gets something down on paper, that is. In the meantime, Jean inherits a large house (yes, on Marsh Road), and the two move in so they can stop scamming rent-free boarding from landlords and landladies. Only, the place is haunted by a ghost named Patrick. Oh, yeah, that and David begins an affair with his typist and plans (in classic Film Noir style) to kill his wife so he can inherit and sell off the house.
Making Excuses
For a "by the numbers" thriller, this one gets quite a few things right about the writing life, starting with the negative -- but accurate -- depiction of the always aspiring "author." David isn't writing as much as he is planning to write, getting distracted, dreaming of having written, basically, everything but actually writing. And like those of us who fall into this category (we all do from time to time, sadly), he has an excuse for every issue.
While arguing with Jean, he says:
David: If only I could get six months peace and quiet to write my book.
Jean: Ah, the book.
David: You don't believe in it, do you? You don't think I'm capable of writing a book.
But we haven't exhausted David's greatest hits yet. When he is down at the bar, he gets into a conversation with a local. "Well," he says. "I'm trying to get down to a novel at the moment, but, I have to keep stopping to review other people's books. Anyway, I'm a lousy typist."
For those keeping score, that's not one, but two excuses delivered like a one-two punch.
