Last time I tried this - public speaking - I was shaking so much they offered me a chair.
Fortunately, I'm writing this sitting down, and you probably can't see me anyway.
Which is fortunate, because I'm not entirely sure why I'm telling you this.
In short, I wrote and published a novel, which didn't sell, and I believe (as most authors would), that it's my writing, and not the actual story, that's lacking in quality. So, having no experience whatsoever, I'm teaching myself to write scripts. And right here - Stage 32 - is where I am learning much (having been silent thus far, because I learn more with my eyes open and my mouth shut).
If anyone has suggestings (reading material, perhaps) I would very much appreciate the effort.
My name is Gary Stark, I live in rural Australia, where social isolation is nothing new.
I wish everyone well in this disturbing time, and thank you for reading this far.
PS I love animals and wild birds (maybe even more than people).
Welcome, Gary. Stay well. Have fun!
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Thanks, Wayne, and my best to you and yours. Interesting time to be alive, huh?
I get it. In a prior life I was probably in a Carmelite cloister. Isolation is nothing new to me; I live in Kentucky and rarely go out because there's nothing to see but green trees and lawns, and hills, and .... I feel like I live in Oz. Prefer the palette of the desert. But I love birds! What was your novel about? You may not have hit your target audience.
Pleased to meet you, Jenean. I'm working at the moment so please don't be offended if I cut and paste regarding the story (it's 10.30 am in Oz). These are from the cover and a (very) short explanation that my publisher requested (my first book, so everything was a new experience) ---
'Jake is the child of an abusive domestic circumstance. Mental, physical, and emotional. Segregated, isolated, and shunned by a judgemental society - a loner alone, in every sense. His shadow, Lucy, is his only friend. He trusts her with his sanity and soul, but nothing in life is ever free.'
'My shadow has a name and her name is Lucille.
She is my Poet, Priestess, Lover, and Muse.
Her beauty surpasses the eyes of the beholder, then rips them out.
Her intellect knows more than she doesn’t, then renders you ignorant.
Her bravery is unflinching, her loyalty unwavering, and her undying love often fatal.
Some have met her, standing on the edge of existence – loaded needle in one hand, loaded gun in the other.
Nothing to lose, or so they believe, they chance one more gamble on the loaded dice. And lose.
Trust me when I confess : I gambled on her snake eyes. And now wish to warn others, as I possess nothing left to do but my time.
You may think yourself intimate, or think you know her name.
Allow me: she sure as hell knows yours. It’s written in her book, and one day you’ll hear it in her mouth.
And you’ll know that your time has come.
I’ll still be here, waiting.
Forever . . .'
And if it's of any interest, just tell me and I'll send you a copy. I'm not gonna get rich being an author, but I'm happy to share the words : )
Of course send it. Not quite sure if I'll understand it, but I'll try. I'm a dense sort of person. From the blurby, I can say that I don't know what the story is about. Jake (flawed person through happenstance) has a shadow ...who is both inspiring and diabolical...then what? Needle in one hand ( drug addiction/murder of self?) and gun in the other (murder of others?). Nothing left but to my time? (In prison?) Many authors try to wax eloquent and be literary, but never get around to telling the story itself. Fine for poets; not always the best for fiction readers. Why do they do this? Often it's because the fiction is actually biographical and they want to come clean but not really; they'd rather hide behind gauze and mirrors. In any case, that's creative non-fiction, and that's it own genre. :)
I consider the book to be a personal perspective of our capacity for indifference and be ideologically selective about what we find offensive. And then judge in accordance with our inherited beliefs.
Better said, if debased human behaviour does not affect us directly, it can be dismissed, albeit with the requisite confection of public outrage. And this despite it making news headlines with nauseating regularity. In fictional constructs, I address repulsively common topics such as domestic violence, social isolation and class segregation, the studied indifference to mental disorders, judgemental assumptions of superiority, and the proclivity of our species to assume bad shit happens to all but themselves. We announce subservience to theological overlords and piss on the dispossessed - those living in the metaphorical gutter of poverty - by complaining about the bloody weather (which, if science is to be dismissed, is created by the self-same divinities).
In short, I believe Darwin’s theory of evolution is on a downward spiral, though I remain optimistic.