"The Other Side of Glory" is my tribute to the time, sacrifices, friendships, dreams and realities of my younger days and my time in the US Marines. Unfortunately, for those of you Hoo-Rah! hard charging Devil Dogs out there or warmongers who appreciate a good military tale, this probably won't be the story for you. I am sticking to my traditional means of writing fiction, using my own flare for enticing an audience, focusing on the struggles of the human condition as I attempt to transform characters as they take the stage in their archetypal roles to create a coming-of-age story of the essence of Good versus Evil.
In my attempt to write this second novel, I must be honest when I say (and every aspiring writer out there should adhere to this warning) it isn't easy nor does the personal satisfaction always outweigh the emotional costs of drawing stories with words. Already in this week I have written an opening Prologue, and on the first night after writing it, I have dreamt the scenes, realizing what was missing in the opening pages. In that initial dream I was introduced (more thoroughly) to the introductory characters, still uncertain how much of a significance they will play. As I have said before, my stories develop in time, as do the characters, and in time--as I succumb to the faint whispers of their voices within my head--they introduce more of themselves and in revealing their secrets and sins, the story becomes more and more complete.
I am going to try something different with this novel. I am going to journal my experiences--mostly the emotional aspect of creating the characters, storyline, plot, etc--in my blog as part of enhancing the experience for the readers. I feel you can get to know me more as a writer, if you know what I am thinking while writing my next book, and perhaps learn to appreciate the completed novel more, when you understand the complexity and emotional turmoil some of us undergo as we (as I am so fond of saying...) draw our stories with words.
So, today I would like to share a (draft) portion of the Prologue to my second novel: "The Other Side of Glory."
I hope you stay with me during the course of this experience, from draft, to thought, to idea, to completed manuscript and ultimately published novel. I think it will be a great experience for all of us and if anything, prove just how crazy I am.
"The Other Side of Glory"
Ask an old man who has spent his years providing a means for his family under the
Somehow that prison guard, that husband and father and yes, even the lowly Marine can at different times all be correct in their interpretations of Hell. It isn’t the existence or the beauty and wonder of Heaven that separates them; on the contrary, their internal faith is the mortar by which they are bound. And sadly, it is the part of their true existence rarely seen or understood because of the external belief and acknowledgement of Hell that seems to pour from their souls.
If you had the chance to ask the man they called Pops, he would have said as passionately as any poet, that Hell was a fictional realm created to scare children, referenced by every religion known under the stars to give balance to their amazing heavens they have portrayed in fantasy, fairy-tale and faith; but in reality, it was a psychological world created within the minds of those who lost their humanity and whose names were scratched from all eternity because of the mishaps created by the demons within the minds of man.; the same demons that drive a husband and father away from his children. It is an ever-present life-force which can drive a man insane, suffocating him and tormenting him to the point where all reality becomes a dream and in an instance, all life passes before his eyes and every story ends the same—behind bars, locked-up and stored away forever—lost to the soul of the world in long corridors of space and in time, altogether forgotten.
And into that same long corridor of the forgotten came two prison guards—one old and one young—escorting between them the State’s newest inmate. He walked with his head down, careful not to make eye contact with any of the other inmates he passed along the way. It was late, so most of the prisoners were in bed, pretending to sleep and others were just beginning their long night of battle with the demons of their minds.
Texas Writer & Author
"Drawing Stories...With Words"