End of Part One

20.01.14

Having almost filled the current journal (almost 200 pages and approaching 30’000 words), “Volume One” is coming to an end. And it’s timely, in that it leads into a new phase for Volume Two with things which have happened lately.

With the journal being the basis for the blog and both being the bases for the novel, I’ve been planning the latter further, researching, plotting and now have a skeletal structure to build upon:

The journal will be “found footage” and the entries therein will will be interspersed within the commentary of the finder; probably the son of the journal’s author.

The journal author is still Victor Frank and the protaganist – his son – an American, adopted by Jewish immigrants in Chicago. The son has emigrated to London (he works in finance / print / corporate finance print) and comes into possession of his father’s diary / journal. Being adopted, the son has never known Victor. There are paralells to be drawn between the two as the son was adopted (rescued) and made good through his adoptive parents. The father (Victor) lost his son but may yet go on to make good.

I was thinking that perhaps this particular entry may not feature in the final book but maybe it will; a story within a story, within a story: Paul Auster stuff, dare I compare?

(“I was writing a book and this is the book which I wrote”.)

I’m finding it very difficult to concentrate at the moment as today I had an argument with someone who is otherwise a very, very good friend. It was all down to an indiscretion / misadventure on my part; something I wrote in innocence in the past and which was sanctioned by the person involved at the time. But times change and my comments have caused upset in retrospect.

I hope this is a bridge which can be rebuilt and not left burned down permanently like so many others. Me and my mouth; my heart; my sleeve.

For now I end Part One and begin Part Two alone. A guy who’s gone off the rails, lost his way; fallen on hard times but unable now to look anywhere other than inwards. I’m alone; severed of all ties which were perhaps holding me back; unable to be co-dependant any more. I’m cut loose. As the credits roll and the curtains close, some of my cast and crew remain but my principle actors have left the stage.

End of Part One.

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