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The four Why's and one Timing
Why... Why are you here... Why on here... Why me... Timing
If I owned a typewriter, and it could speak, autonomously, with the voice of Geoffrey Rush, using a spacial awareness to detect my presence as I pottered aimlessly from wall to mirror to dusty window, it would say; “You write and write and write, much of it immeasurable, indefinable, some of it unreasonable and a smaller portion… okay. You do this for much of the year and have done for YEARS; Novel work, Short story work, odd ‘lay work, odder Screen’lay work, let us not forget experimental ‘rose. All for what reason? Why do you continue? What eyes are you trying to speak to, what ears are you calling to watch? What is it you have to SAY!?”
I would have no answer, but a question cannot function without some answer, I’d reply; “Well, I write because I must, much of it isn’t for the sharing to…”
He’d cut me off, deeply petulant, “For too long you ‘writers’, claiming to be a writers, batter my keys, my ‘recious keys, choke my ‘a‘er and strangle dry, my ink. It’s been far too many years. I've known more and more of you as your years dwindle to greyness and your fingers, needle thin, scra’e from floor to desk to my keys. All of you without exce’tion bear long hurtful nails, garner twisted moulting moustaches or bangs, broken glasses and looming ‘ostures.
And here I sit. Here I sit, NO windows, never any decent windows! What of my will, MY WILL to see, to live and breathe in this world with a true artist that lulls me to bliss with their prose or thrills with their dialogue or astounds with their environment textures… But NO, just one contemptuous attic, cellar, cabin or igloo of papier-mâché crafted from your own misused ‘ages, after another. I wait, and wait, and wait, while you swirl your ‘encil around in the sharpener waiting for the lead to lea’ from it and ins’ire your signature to sign the words you just wrote. HOW I WISH I HAD LEGS TO SEND YOUR DAMN MANUSCRI’TS TO THESE FABLED EYES AND EARS YOU SEEK OR ALAS THROW IT ALL IN THE SEA. Apologies. My anger causes my CA’S to Stick.
Alas, I beg you, leak your own work to those living breathing beings with o’inions for the love of all…”
I’d cut him off there with a hand, I could do nothing but agree, then, sullen but efficient, walk over to the keys and re-jig the connection of his P. I’d share my own apology and commit to him, “I will, I will publish some work and send it somewhere, anywhere…”
Why are you here…
While writing a second novel I must admit to this being a purely selfish pursuit. I’ve come to recognise, over long stretches of time and many iterations of words written throughout the cybernetic maelstrom of my laptop or creatively handwritten with a B I R O on P A P E R, that I must release much of this writing instead of classifying it to no avail other than personal vanity.
I once heard, once a story is written, a memoir told, an event shared, it is no longer the tellers story. This, however flimsy, is the only reason I have to drag you here, so you may view, what you may view. I’ll add, I believe everyone should write, but I also believe the right type of reading begins the impulse to do so. Maybe this is the right sort of reading for someone, I don’t know.
I also found this platform remarkably interesting, I don’t binge on much phone-based apps but this seemed to become one of the few, and no doubt there are many of you like me, out there stumbling upon new writers.
So, in short, I found the impulse to share non-novel related works here. What does this term ‘works’ mean? I won’t fully explain but in short -again-, whether a large or small or the smallest group of individuals read one of these ‘works’ and share a sense of, hmmm, that was… (insert aught), I will have fulfilled my duty to release that which is no longer mine and satisfy my fictional plagued GR typewriter.
So, I have seen many newsletters, and found them equally enjoyable as say when George Saunders or S J Watson share a short story or wax lyrical about a piece they have read, or anything in general, or tips for the budding writer.
So, I'll be posting story, fiction, life affiliated non-fiction, prose (as previous), dialogues from plays/script, essays (these will be fewer initially while I play with the correct angle for now; no doubt I'll edit that angle, twist it, pull it, smooth it and delete that angle entirely and choose another.)
I’ll post every Thursday for now, Thursday has a meaning but I’ll place it in one of the pieces for you to find.
I must note here: Free subscribers will have access to the 4 pieces per month, any and all extra posts will be connected to the paid subscriber. These extras, more than likely will be more personal, non-fiction, anecdotal or clipped straight out of my life entirely. I will do my best to share an interesting collection of pieces within the 4.
I should note -again-, I was/am tempted to share an unpublished work on here down the line for paid subscribers but for the moment I also attributed the membership for 10 friends/family for the Founding Member subscription. You will have to look into this, there should be some mystery somewhere in this opening dialogue. (Forgive my honesty, I can only lie within fiction).
For relaxing times, choose Suntory…erm, timing… (Okay, the Timing was a miss.)
My appreciation to you,
(p.s. I skipped the Why Me section. I will fill this in at a later time… For now the focus is just to release some pieces. Adieu. )
(p.p.s. The painting within my display picture is of Myself, my very good friend and a peer of ours, painted by a beautiful soul and Artist Siobhan Stanley.)
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