Warning: Reader who are new to this blog should not be very concerned. This manner of skeweing perspectives goes on all the time.
I was reading through a variety of posts offering sage advice through many interpretations and emphasises. The depth of knowledge and willingness to share knowledge in what is after all a theoretically competitive arena is impressive, as was the enthusiasm of the respondees, who in turn displayed their own grasp of comprehension of the entire world of writing & self-publishing.
Thus did I juxtaposition (and meld even) these bright lights within the firmament of literary endeavours with the tragic scene as played out in my previous post, the fact of things being very Shakespearian at the present and one of my favourite characters from my previous novel (the fellow was gothic, self-absorbed, of monumental misalignment and of a family Mervyn Peake would have recognised)
(An extract from the uncompleted drama- Seeketh the Spoons-)
(The scene opens on a sparse stage of very dimmed light, a person is seated at a table, on which a laptop glimmers, casting a pale hue upon brooding features of a sombrely dressed person. One hand is upon their forehead, or resting the chin, or with two fingers extended dangerously close to one eye socket. They appear to be in conversation with the laptop)
- Ah….Me! And thou, whose fellowship is diverse,
- As the fickle weathers of the transition to darker seasons.
- Why dost thou offer this restless ocean of information,
- And yet…Do little to aid me in my quest for strategems? Art thou of careless and indifferent natures?
- Casting this myriad of such bafflement at the human soul.
- Or (character stands up hands set heavily on table and glares at laptop)
- Does within thy seemingly inanimate constructs
- Work malignant purpose, delighting in the confusion
- Set before these mine feverish brow and aching eyes?
- (stalks away from the table begins to prowl the stage in the manner
- of one in urgent need of wishing to find a public toilet)
- For whereas I am Fate’s willing soldier in this the heroic task
- Of bringing some measure of literature to a world
- Made dull by lesser but louder folk peddling meagre stuffs,
- I am set upon the field without map, compass or loyal scout,
- My horizons are speckled by the far off bright banners
- Of many willing, councillors
- (Pauses. Looks upwards, raises one arm. The audience wonder
- if the character has a trained bird of some sort)
- And yet?
- Ah….and yet?
- (Turns back on audience, who feel they might do the same.
- The character looks at the laptop and table as if previously
- unaware of their existence. Paces back and begins to travel about
- the table, grimacing and gesturing. Audience wonder if bunches of
- flowers might be produced out of various sleeves)
- For herein does lies in fitful slumber and unsettled countenance,
- The nub of indecision or varied richness of confounding choices?
- (the audience are relieved they are not being asked directly)
- For which and unto whom in the analysis of progression
- Should one turn, or not turn?
- Unto the those who would read these works and proffer opinions
- For naught but that bright quirk of human nature; to help?
- Or to the more severe and exacting task master who by perversity
- That is the lot of Humanity
- Require payment in coin to be critical an extreme upon my efforts?
- Yet either of these. Would they not trammel and disturb the lattice
- Of my careful assemblage?
- Would they be as the wild spring storms
- Set loose up the delightful spider’s web?
- All my efforts to be picked and dissected as a corpse by surgeons?
- (realising they have suggested that their own work to be dead,
- The character looks up alarmed, leaves the table and begins pacing
- again. This time examining their hands as if unfamiliar with them)
- Ohhhhh! (should be loud and low enough, to disturb anyone who might
- have dozed off, or is passing the time with crossword book or new phone
- Ah me!! Beset by the tragedy of the true artist!
- Constrain (ed) by the cords and ropes of love my words
- Which have become the engines of those equestrian like forces
- Whose rampant neighing doth cry out.. Quality!!!
- (raises hand inadvertently suggesting prime fruit is for sale)
- While rend my artistic soul (falls to knees, makes extravagant facial
- gestures and remonstrates with a blameless ceiling)
- (silence falls, actor should pay no to heed to shuffling and whispered
- requests amongst audience of each other for possible explanations as
- what these previously unnoticed horses have to do with the wretched
- business anyway)
- Character stands up, head bowed, solemnly walks back to laptop, sits
- down and assumes original pose
- Curtain descends, for change of scene, audience take advantage and
- scurry out, having read in the programme the next scene involves two
- other characters arguing over the nature of and possession of spoons
At present there are no plans to expand upon this work, unless requested to do so; in which case being put a simple craftsperson I will not be held aesthetically or ethically responsible for the results, and will naturally submit the results to various possible outlets with the aforementioned rider.
(in conclusion the author cannot be held responsible for the stupid bullet points and other shortcomings of the computer programme