To my friends and ever faithful readers:
Yes, the day has finally come at last: I have hit rock bottom. “In what sense?” the curious reader might be asking him or herself. Well, in the fact that I have found myself reduced to composing a blog. Yes, a blog. The most hated of all forms of self-expression. However, I feel the need to put my thoughts into words, my words into text, and even my poorly thought out text into a comprehensible form for my audience. “So, what shall this blog comprise of? Anything that I may need concern myself with?” An excellent question, as is usually the case with all the rhetorical questions I assume the reader asks. Well, rather than bitch and moan about my day to day routine (as I find is often the case with these debaucheries dubbed as “blogs”) I believe I will compose a…story of sorts. I had a friend recently suggest the idea to me: a story loosely based upon my personal experiences.
I naturally found the idea interesting; people do tend to believe their personal lives to be of great interest not only to themselves but to others as well and I found myself nodding along with what my friend was saying save for one problem: I have little to almost no stories which I could pass along to my readers (let alone ones of interest). If I was going to draw my reader into a story of my past, there needs to be something to capture them—to draw them into my tale. Therefore, my mind began to do one of the few things that I believe it does with relative ease and great ability; it began taking this friendly suggestion and improving it, finding ways in which I may actually take this possible story and turn it into something that I may produce and pass on for the entertainment of my beloved readers. The result is this.
True, the main character will undoubtedly be based upon myself; I intend on using my name, my likely reactions and my own personal interests. However, I will be inserting myself into positions that I have never encountered, events that have not occurred, things that I have not had to deal with. This Will shall be a real person—for he does indeed live within my thoughts and manifests himself through my actions—but he will be existing in a parallel dimension; a place that I have conceived in my imagination, one that is eerily similar to what many believe and call “reality”. In my humble opinion, I believe that this will be an improvement for both myself and those who may read this. After all, if I were to merely retell a story of my experiences, there would be two large flaws to be found.
The first would be that my memory, like most people’s, has discarded many extraneous details that I have deemed extraneous thus detracting from the retelling as a whole. I would not be able to recall the weather that day, what classes I may have been dreading, nor what peculiar scent I may have caught drifting on the wind (not always a bad thing, but it does leave the recounting a little dry). These minute facts, which are the meat of a story—its very essence—are required in order to tell a story. Without them, all that would remain would be a shattered husk—patches of words slapped together in a haphazard manner. That, my still-reading reader, is one sin that I hopefully will never commit. The second blunder, and undoubtedly the worse of the two, is that retelling stories (especially ones where I must deal with reviewing my work) is rather dull for yours truly. As a result, I would likely beginto, as professionals call it, “half-ass it”. Seeing that my ultimate goal is to compose something to interest my readers, I believe that this would hardly be in my best interest. On the other hand, I have “half-assed” many pieces (in fact, those notes on facebook.com which have earned me my fame are little better than impromptu thoughts that I have strung together) and received much praise for their “stunning style and syntax”. Hardly my own words, I tend to hold all my creations in the lowest regard. I suppose, in the end, it is merely one of my concoctions I use so as to prevent myself from being hurt by critics.
I mentioned that I will be conjuring up these scenes, but that is not to say that ALL of my work will be of a fictional aspect. “The best lies always have a kernel of truth to them.” A common proverb (and one I hold very close to my heart, did I forget to mention that I have a natural knack for telling a falsehood every now and again?), I find that it is also applicable to writing. I will without a doubt incorporate characters into my story that are either loosely (or completely) based upon some…interesting individuals that I have met in my travels, which are admittedly limited and bare. The names of said individuals can be expected to be different. This works in my benefit as not only does it not insult my friends when they become affronted by some misdeeds I may have had their character commit, but it also allows my friends to believe that they are manifested in my tales in one character or another. The reader can bet that I will do nothing to dissuade any views they may hold.
Well, before I continue on, I would like to offer congratulations to the loyal reader. You have almost made it to the end of my prologue, and the actual story is about to begin. I hope that, having read these first few introductory pages, you find my writing style to your liking. Admittedly, I have borrowed many influences from some of my favorite authors (perhaps some of whom I will acknowledge later on down the road, but who shall remain nameless for now), and I believe that the result is something…unique. Some of my English teachers have likened my “voice” to one of my favorite poets, Edgar Allen Poe, and, whether or not this is true, I found the comparison flattering and all the more reason to attempt this blog/story. Either way, as I have little riding on this wager of sorts, although I would love to have a large following from this endeavor, I am rather indifferent as per its success. I believe I have blathered on long enough for the reader’s taste, so, putting aside any more philosophical comments I may have, allow me to present the patient reader with the original Greek tragedy: William N. Kentris.
