I'm on my way to a completed first draft of my story which is based on the death of a close friend in primary school. I have chosen to frame the story with this narrator's pedantic thoughts and arguments with himself.
I'm hoping that this narrator will be interesting enough to grab the readers attention right away and make sure they want to keep reading...
So any comments/criticism about anything would be very helpful and please let me know whether the character is engaging/interesting enough for you to want to read more! Still need to include footnotes, etc.
*****
♫ Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and auld lang syne? ♫
Most people will tell you that there’s nothing worse than losing someone you love and care for. Those people probably weren’t told they were going to lose them the night before it happened. Maybe it’s the feeling of sheer hopelessness, that there is absolutely nothing you can do, and you just sit there not knowing what to feel. I suppose the grief is somewhat compounded by the absence of shock and the fact that it actually hasn’t happened yet.
Once the reality of the situation is realised, whether it be ten minutes or ten years, we are forced to make a decision.
Should old friends be forgotten?
Or should we protect and preserve what remains of them, our memories…
Philosophers, in particular, feel the need to use vague metaphorical analogies in an attempt to answer these questions. The result is either enlightenment for mankind, or a broad, confusing phrase that actually doesn’t help solve the problem at all.
But surely if you do not clutch the past tightly to your chest you could end up leaving this life empty handed?
Mum did always say I was pedantic…
I am not here to preach my philosophies, or even the philosophies of much greater beings that have come before me. No, my purpose is a more simplistic one.
So here I am, the typecast melancholy teenager who sits and listens to songs written in a minor key, brooding over the “pain” and the “hurt” that I’ve suffered. Among the few things I know for certain, is that there will be a song, a melody, a single line that can sum up my thoughts of a whole day in roughly three minutes.
Why bother attempting to articulate your thoughts when someone has already done it for you?
Or as Aldous Huxley more eloquently puts it:
“After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music”.
Music is not the language of the lazy, but more the language of the practical. Yes. That sounds a lot better…
♫And all I see on my CD shelves
Are the pieces of me that probably need help…♫
My CD collection would seem to be in absolute chaos to any normal person. No order whatsoever. I’ve never felt the need to alphabetise my songs, my music.
My music is categorised according to what I feel like listening to, or in particular, the mood I am in.
The top left rack - filled with typical pick me up music; Earth Wind and Fire, Michael Jackson, The Jam, T-Rex, etc. These were a rare treat.
The middle rack - dominated by some of the greatest lyricists to grace this world. A few distinct names come to mind:
Cat Stevens Billy Joel
Bob Dylan Sting LOU REED
Jim Morrison Neil Young
Etc…
The poems of these men were my vocabulary, my form of communication to the world. It is a rare occasion that anyone actually realises that the words I speak are not my own.
After all, footnotes do not exist in conversation…
These stories do not necessarily concern me.
They may not even be true.
But that’s not the point.
This statement alone is meaningless.
Firstly, whoever came up with this was probably a failed writer.
And secondly, for this declaration to even be considered, one must have a thorough understanding of what is fact and what is fiction.
How can you possibly say something like this with such confidence when it involves one of the fundamental questions humanity has been struggling to answer since the dawn of time?
I'm hoping that this narrator will be interesting enough to grab the readers attention right away and make sure they want to keep reading...
So any comments/criticism about anything would be very helpful and please let me know whether the character is engaging/interesting enough for you to want to read more! Still need to include footnotes, etc.
*****
♫ Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and auld lang syne? ♫
Most people will tell you that there’s nothing worse than losing someone you love and care for. Those people probably weren’t told they were going to lose them the night before it happened. Maybe it’s the feeling of sheer hopelessness, that there is absolutely nothing you can do, and you just sit there not knowing what to feel. I suppose the grief is somewhat compounded by the absence of shock and the fact that it actually hasn’t happened yet.
Once the reality of the situation is realised, whether it be ten minutes or ten years, we are forced to make a decision.
Should old friends be forgotten?
Or should we protect and preserve what remains of them, our memories…
Philosophers, in particular, feel the need to use vague metaphorical analogies in an attempt to answer these questions. The result is either enlightenment for mankind, or a broad, confusing phrase that actually doesn’t help solve the problem at all.
“You can clutch the past so tightly to your chest that it leaves your arms too full to embrace the present.”
But surely if you do not clutch the past tightly to your chest you could end up leaving this life empty handed?
Mum did always say I was pedantic…
I am not here to preach my philosophies, or even the philosophies of much greater beings that have come before me. No, my purpose is a more simplistic one.
So here I am, the typecast melancholy teenager who sits and listens to songs written in a minor key, brooding over the “pain” and the “hurt” that I’ve suffered. Among the few things I know for certain, is that there will be a song, a melody, a single line that can sum up my thoughts of a whole day in roughly three minutes.
Why bother attempting to articulate your thoughts when someone has already done it for you?
Or as Aldous Huxley more eloquently puts it:
“After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music”.
Music is not the language of the lazy, but more the language of the practical. Yes. That sounds a lot better…
♫And all I see on my CD shelves
Are the pieces of me that probably need help…♫
My CD collection would seem to be in absolute chaos to any normal person. No order whatsoever. I’ve never felt the need to alphabetise my songs, my music.
My music is categorised according to what I feel like listening to, or in particular, the mood I am in.
The top left rack - filled with typical pick me up music; Earth Wind and Fire, Michael Jackson, The Jam, T-Rex, etc. These were a rare treat.
The middle rack - dominated by some of the greatest lyricists to grace this world. A few distinct names come to mind:
Cat Stevens Billy Joel
Bob Dylan Sting LOU REED
Jim Morrison Neil Young
Etc…
The poems of these men were my vocabulary, my form of communication to the world. It is a rare occasion that anyone actually realises that the words I speak are not my own.
After all, footnotes do not exist in conversation…
These stories do not necessarily concern me.
They may not even be true.
But that’s not the point.
Is it?
“Fiction is not a dream. Nor is it guesswork. It is imagining based on facts, and the facts must be accurate or the work of imagining will not stand up.”
This statement alone is meaningless.
Firstly, whoever came up with this was probably a failed writer.
And secondly, for this declaration to even be considered, one must have a thorough understanding of what is fact and what is fiction.
How can you possibly say something like this with such confidence when it involves one of the fundamental questions humanity has been struggling to answer since the dawn of time?
