Thursday May 14th 2015
Just a day or two ago I finished writing a story, and have done a first read plus edit. This story was born way back in the 1970’s, it now consists of 80,000 words and 186 pages. I feel rather pleased with myself about this story in particular because it started off as just a few hand written pages in an old school exercise book.
I do not look at myself as writer because before all this came to life I wrote lyrics and songs on the guitar and poetry when alone, or on a train, I used to enjoy train journeys when a teenager. My writing started with lyrics for the odd chord structure which I liked, many of the lyrics I still have, including the old writing book I used. Scribbling’s everywhere, odd phrases, odd lines even complete verses with a chord sequence written with them. After years of absence I could not recall what I originally had in mind. I remember sitting on my bed looking out the window on a rainy stormy night, enjoying the storm, the lightning the thunder and shadows of the night. This particular night I wrote a poem called ‘Within the Darkness of Night’. It could also be a song lyric, but was written as a poem. I have included it in this post. I ask if you read it think of yourself walking lonely streets on a stormy night, with lightening in the distant sky and thunder clapping over head. You are squinting your eyes protecting them from the heavy rain. You are soaked to the skin, shivering and felt completely alone. Each corner you turn shadows jump out at you making you startle, strange sounds and lightening creating its imaginary beings. Your mind goes mad, you are thinking of many scary things. Enjoy!
Within the Darkness of Night!
The cat sleeps quietly, The street lights dim,
Everyone retires to bed, Except for the misfit.
The shadows of the night lurk, The owl hoots are scary,
Everyone shivers within their beds, Except for the misfit.
The wind howls through the trees, Swaying back and forth,
Everyone sleeps through the horrors, Except for the misfit.
River waters trickle quietly on, Sudden splash of jumping fish,
Everyone dreams of these beauties, Except for the misfit.
Swaying trees creak and squeal, Tall dark shadows are staring
Everyone is happy in their sleep, Except for the misfit.
Horrors of the darkness is his beauty, The lurking shadows of fear,
Everyone carries on sleeping, Except for the misfit.
The night speaks to us all, Sounds quiver through the air,
Everyone still sleeps merrily on, Except for the misfit.
Night drifts into day, all the beauty now deserts him,
Everyone awakes to this new day, Except for the misfit.
Tonight when you go for a walk, Listen to the night talking
Then HE can sleep peacefully, HE can only be the Misfit.
Gerry A/C © May 2015
So my point is, the more poems I wrote, the more lyrics I wrote the more imaginative my mind became, it was then the beginnings of my story ‘King of the Wood’ was born. I hand wrote the tale in my exercise book, over the years I added small snippets to include when the time came. That time in 2011, when I discovered ‘Nanowrimo’ so the first half of the story was put into words on my computer. It was with this story I completed my first of four Nanowrimo’s. After writing 4 complete novel length stories I still call myself a scribbler. So from now on I will be known as ‘The Scribbler’.
I still have three to edit, in truth it is actually only two I remember doing one already, one pass that is..’The Parchment’.
Thank you for your time!
Gerry A/C May 14th 2015©