“The Story of a Book That Doesn’t Even Exist Yet… Kind Of”

“The Story of a Book That Doesn’t Exist… Kind Of”

Just playing around with ideas using Gemini AI designer, 

How can a story exist, other than in your mind, if it hasn't yet been written or in my case, exists entirely in my head? Yes, it's a bit of a screwed-up paradoxical question.   

I have an initial idea. Sure, it's been done before, but hey, what story hasn't been told these days? I mean, that is why there are so many reruns of old shows, and new films are just reinventions of previous ones. It's obvious we are all out of ideas. 

My story is going to be a fictional tale. Now wait for it, there is a lot to describe. It's going to be Dark, yet humorous.  The main protagonist is a Geordie, so he will speak as such, which might make the book difficult to read for some. There will be darkness, loss, growth, good versus evil, and many funny anecdotes and amusing stories, which I have somewhat in the back of my mind.     

Another AI-created idea

I am finding that as I write,  I am up to chapter 9 so far, with just over 20,000 words, that my creative juices flow as I am thinking and typing. As I mentioned earlier, I have no clear, solid story. I just get fleeting thoughts that pop into my head, mainly when I am struggling to sleep on a night.

And one more

It's weird, I wrote two different pieces for the book over the last couple of nights, thinking "Hey, you know what my main character, (who my dad, The Ern, says ", Aye, I can see he's based on you," ) decided he would write poetry and songs in the mental state he is currently in, which is a bit of turmoil, alongside melancholy, stress and sadness."

It's strange trying to imagine what someone is going through, even when it's a pretend character in a book, then trying to write how you think they may feel and. think.

Hopefully, I can make the story interesting and get another book on the shelves. At this point, it's not even about "Ooh, I wonder how many I can sell," it's more just about me enjoying the process and seeing where this takes me. I cannot imagine becoming a world-renowned author; this is more a bit of fun, keeps me occupied and helps me relax.

Obviously, if I ever finish it and receive some good feedback,  that would be a bonus.

Anyhoo, I don't want to give too much away. At the moment, you will just have to wait. I don't want anyone nicking my ideas LoL

I will leave you with a poem and a song that I intend to add to my book, so please note that the copyright belongs to Glenn Johnstone. They may not make complete sense, as obviously, you don't know the whole backstory of the characters involved. "Oh, and poetry doesn't have to rhyme."

Horology’s Parallel

From father to son, time passed on,
a friendly face, and a special place
within your hand, within your heart;
each memory held within a protective case,
that will one day cease—
as silence falls.

Each mark and scratch make you unique, perfect, imperfections.
As you carry on with the time you keep.
Until that day you’re wound no more, and your movement slows, and you stop.

Discovered truth — and now it all makes sense:
Why your cogs and wheels struggle with the time you keep.

That old voice you once knew begins to fade,
its whispers growing silent,
drifting beyond the shadows—far, far away.

Your movements are slowing —
your hands, fitful, like a heart struggling to beat.
You feel old and weary;
you just want to find sleep.

Memories of happier times slip away —
moments slowly lost, day by day;
you struggle to keep,
as the lid that once protected you is forever shut.

Where once you shone — polished, all shiny and bright —
now you are dulled, living beneath a dark cloud;
there is no light.

A thick fog of despair shrouds your view;
and those who care about you understand —
it’s too late: someone has decided this is your fate.

Your mind — those numbers — feel as if they’re slipping away,
tumbling and falling, unable to hold on.
You’re filled with confusion and sadness;
even time becomes disarrayed.

Where once there was rhythm in each gentle sound,
now you move slowly —
a denial of the inevitable —
knowing the end comes, and you are lost and bound.

You ask: Is there no one to help?
Can you not be wound and opened, fixed or repaired?

You just need someone to breathe new life into you,
and remind you of the life you once knew.

The song is in the style of an old Pitt village community, well, how I see it, or like a sea shanty rhythm, but obviously sad.    

A Geordie’s Heart (It’ll Never Die)

Well, a’ve been told that me time is up,
A divvn't have lang, an’ a’ve gotta gan.
A’m not quite ready, but what can a dee?
It’s nee good argyin’ wi’ yer destiny.

Me heed’s been sore noo for a while,
N’ an’knare, it’s not from the broon.
It’s not feelin’ like it’s even me awn,
A canna mek sense o’ what’s gannin’ on —

[Chorus]
An’ a won’t be standin’ on the banks o’ the Tyne,
’Cos the boatman’s waitin’ te tek us ower the Styx.
A’ll pay me way, an’ a’ll give ’im me coin,
Then he’ll push off, an’ we’ll sail away.

N’ a’m feelin’ lost… an’ a’m all a’lan.
Nee lass to kiss, nee hand to hold.
A thought a had all the time in the world,
But noo a’ve fond out me life’s unfurled.

So divvn't wait, ’cos a’m not comin’ yem,
A’m gone for good — a’ve served me time.
Mebbe it’s for the best, as me life’s been rough,
A tried me best — a hope it was enough.

An’ a’m thinkin’ te mesel’, was it all just a test?
When a lived me life, an’ a tried me best.
A’ve lost me love — it’s been stole away,
Nee mair chances, nee mair days.

[Final Verse]
So all a’ll ask yer te think on me,
As ye raise yer glass an’ sing oot loud.
For this bonny lad’s not gone te hell,
’Cos a Geordie’s heart — it’ll never die.

(Whispered Outro)
So a’ll be off on the River Styx…
Te meet the devil an’ avoid his tricks…
An’ noo, a’ve gotta gan, like

I have posted a few images, so perhaps they will give you a little room for thought.

Ok toodle pip for now...

A book idea - Fiction is a lot harder to write than non-fiction

Just a few ideas at the moment

I'm thinking I would like to write a fictional book. The thing is, to do so, I have discovered you need more of a creative side. You see, writing non-fiction, although not entirely easy, at least that shit has happened to you, so you have an idea of your memories and recollections. Then it's just a cassette of how you would like to present your book. Dark, humorous, serious, embarrassing, inspirational, suspenseful, historical, brutal, violent, and I could go on and on. I suppose everything that gets put in is based on a real-life experience, and all you have to do is kind of narrate your story.

My self-published book Lost2bFound, you can find it at Amazon

I got a lovely review of Lost2bFound, for example from someone on Librarything, which reads,

"When I started this book, I was struck right away by the wandering narration. I immediately jumped to the conclusion that it was going to be a struggle to get through. What I found instead was that it was a pleasant as sitting down for a chat with someone you haven't met before and sharing your stories. Rather than being frustrating or confusing, it was quite enjoyable. This is probably going to be one of the very rare books that I read again."    

I would agree as a first time, and I am not sure I can really call myself an "author" because I found it difficult trying to get what I wanted to say down in an organised fashion. I  mean, I am the same in every day-to-day life, all over the place, jumping from tangent to tangent, never mind trying to make sense of how to format a book.

The previous review, I guess, is a testament to that; however, the reader, instead of giving up on my book, carried on and appeared to enjoy it. I do have to say it is written very much as if I were sharing a story with someone just across the way or on one of my chance meetings whilst I am out on my bike.

And so to my latest attempt and thoughts. Well, I am not going to give too much away, just in case it is a fail, and I don't get round to finishing it, or get writer's block, as you see, I don't have the full story in my head yet. I tend to think as I write, and sometimes things will come to me, so I jot them down for use later on. Bedtime,  find my mind never, ever turns off, so things can sometimes just pop into my head, and I end up having to get up, turn my bedroom light on and start trying to recall "What was that thought again?"

So the premise of my story, I suppose, will have been done many times over in different ways. Basically, it is about a guy who takes ill (Yes, I have my main character's name), and he ends up being somewhat tricked into selling his soul to the devil. 

I'm thinking somewhere in my story, but haven't yet decided, there may be either an English Bull Terrier or a Border Terrier, a bit like Wor Nev. I have names picked for each of the dogs.

The theme of the book is a mix of dark forbidding, supernatural evil, humour, resilience, suspense and redemption.

I have had to do a lot more research, even at the beginning of writing, to try and tie things in so that they come across as realistic, thinking that if I get it wrong, some eagle-eyed reader will pounce on the fact.

An area I am struggling with is not wanting my main character to become like some superhuman or a serial killer in doing the devil's work. So I am trying to think of a way he can regain his soul, or at least go out fighting.

Oh, and within the story is an old dark guitar, a pocket watch and like I say, a dog of which breed I will decide, depending on which way I go. And that is about all I have at the moment. Well, apart from I did have another plot twist, but I ma not convinced I like it. Apologies for all the mystery. The twist I am talking about may make the story humorous, you see, and take it off in a completely different direction, even though I think if I were creative enough, it would work, and as far as I am aware, it hasn't been really done before.

Title? "Mmmmm," still thinking on that one.