Anonymity Overkill

Ever wanted to fade into the background, to drop out of the rat race and chunter away free from any consequence? 

Ever wanted to become that figure standing at the bus stop casting both pearls of wisdom and laminations with reckless abandon…? 

Me, I never thought I would, but here I am mumbling into the big empty auditorium that is the world wide web!

Just goes to show you never can tell what the future has in store for you – here I am wittering out loud to myself. 

Granted many will claim that they foresaw this deterioration, this inevitable fall from tinfoil hat wearing conspiracy theorist into fully blown ranting nutter.

But here is the groovy thing, nobody is out there, so no one will ever find out, my façade of normality, such that it is, remains intact!

Go anonymity!

So free from critique I can openly admit that my laissez faire application of real constructive result producing effort has come home to roost, I have typed away like a true fiend, but produced NOTHING!!!

I have allowed by attention to flutter from flower to flower, and in doing so I have ignored the true rose in the garden… 

Amy has been neglected.

Cruelly she has been cast aside while I flirt with the new easier attractions – oh how shallow we have become…

It is admittedly simpler to create a new character than to continue to develop the narrative of an existing one.

On this I am most definitely guilty as charged.

In mitigation – I have nothing worthy of note to offer.

One that has served me so well, one who at my hand has suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune; yet she has remained doggedly loyal…

I must, and indeed I will do better.

I vow to thee my country that I will endeavour to produce, that I will strive to deliver, that I will struggle to overcome distractions, overcome all of these things that pull me away distract and delay me, and I promise that I will produce a completed narrative; a story that ends.

But as no one is listening… 

Well okay its not really a spoiler alert, maybe its a poor attempt at some sort of click bait

Okay, its not a spoiler, it is pure click bait piffle – apologies.

Book three (Gotham) has been my focus, but then again, I’ve also spent time scandalously flirting with Prison; The Big House; Gone Ghost Gone and now The Men Who Killed the Stars!

We are scribbling, adding momentum to tales, pushing narratives from where they were to that little bit further down the road.  Focus hasn’t been complete; my attention hasn’t been selfish or peculiar to any isolated or favorite tale. 

Ideas that are good in 1880 spark ideas that are good in 1920 Ireland or indeed modern-day Nigeria, and indeed the idea that sparked The Big House has become the genesis of a reflective tale on the plight of a young woman in modern day Iran. 

Stories about prison have dominated my reading, crime and punishment themes that will dominate three of the above tales.

I’ve also been reading on how a modern civilised society (Ireland 1920) turned a collective blind eye (and still holds a large level of denial) to the murders of those accused of being enemies of the revolution.  Tragically such events are common in every civil rising, grievances and paranoia become dominant forces, wanting to prove loyalty to the new masters a vehicle that carries such murders through a community.  And the victim, well they had it coming, sympathy is scant, the fear of any guilt by any association driving many a good man to become silent.

It is tragic, it was indeed a true tragedy by any yardstick, but it is a scenario that is a gift for anyone looking to weave a good tale in this complex vortex of emotions and fear.  So, yeah, The Big House is plodding along nicely. 

For those who’ve been following the adventures of young Amy Grace me confirming that I have happily created the scenario that sees her ‘banged up’ won’t be shocked, nor indeed that she isn’t the victim of a tragic miscarriage of justice (point of view dependent). 

The much-needed link between Gotham and Prison has now been thrashed out and is very much in the process of being fleshed out and finished. 

Gotham hasn’t gone where I originally intended it to go – nor indeed where I assumed it was developing towards.  The change from page two hundred to page last took me by surprise too; characters I’d assumed would either die or be discarded did neither – which, in the end I think is more than acceptable.

I hope that Gotham isn’t the predictable narrative play by the numbers story it could have been.  I hope that when it is read, that its accepted as the logical twisty turn story that surprises and entertains as much as Magic did after the frantic chase movie that was Thomas Payne. 

I’ve tried to avoid the obvious connections/conclusions between the characters, and I’ve tried (honestly) to inject some humour into a tale with a very dark narrative vein is running through it. 

Have I succeeded, as ever, only the critics will decide!

The quest for an agent it continues too, yet with less success or sense of achievement that we associate with our scribbling. 

And it is one that deserves a greater slice of our focus, we will see…