[AA]: The Roger Thompson Chronicles (1/6)

Brism Wanor brism at earthlink.net
Wed Jan 19 15:01:34 PST 2005


                         FIFTH INFINITY PRODUCTIONS
                                    with
                          Mademoiselle Muse, Inc.
                                    and
                  United Narrators, Speakers, Presentors,
                         and Other Talkers (UNSPOT)

                          Hesitantly Bring You ...

                       The Roger Thompson Chronicles

                             Part One (of six)
                                Genesis Mine

      Lost on a train of thought, bound for an unknown station, trapped
behind the creative engine, the world outside the windows roaring by,
racing parallel to a babbling stream of consciousness, sunlight shattering
into fragments of phrases, all drowning in the past/present/future/never,
found ... lost ... dreamed ... loved ... forgotten.
      I ...
      Spinning, swirling reality eddies, everything jumbled, nothing ...
      I ... I ...
      Fragments. Swirling. Swirling. Spinning images, fragments coalescing,
forming, taking ...
      I ... I am ... I am ...
      Falling, rising, coming, going, nowhere, everywhere, Erewhon.
      I AM.
      I am aware.
      I am thinking.
      I am thinking I am aware.
      I am thinking I am aware I am thinking.
      I think therefore I am thinking I am.
      I think I need a drink. Would you like one? I can offer you a Zen
drink. That's the drink I'd offer you, if you were here, and I had any of
that drink to offer, but I'm out of that, and you're not here, you're out
there.
      Yes, you, reader. I know you're there.
      How, you ask. Well, that is kind of a long story, so, while I get
something to moisten my throat, why not go get that drink. Go on, I'll
wait.
      ...
      ...
      Ta-tum, ta-ta-ta-tum. Da-de-dee-deeeee-dada-doo, de-le-de-da-dadoo,
da-dadoo, da-le-tra-da-nu, ying-ta-lo, ying-tong, ying-tong,
ying-tong-it-ah-lie poe, ying-tong, ying-to ...
      Oh, you're back. Thank goodness, I couldn't remember any more of the
words.
      Well, first things first. I'm not a character, technically. I'm a
narrator. You see, most characters don't know about the fourth wall.
      Yes, that's the wall between the actors on stage, and the audience in
the theatre. That's the line between the movie screen, or television set,
and you, the watcher. Sometimes a character will talk to the audience, or
at least, for the benefit of the audience, as most people don't wander
about speaking their inner turmoils in blank verse. (Those that do, are,
for the most part, enjoying three servings of grewel in a padded room, at
tax-payer's expense.)
      Some characters are even aware that they are in a movie, or a play,
and act accordingly, usually for humour. Breaking the fourth wall is
funny, damn it.
      Written text isn't quite the same. Characters in a novel don't have
quite the same immediacy, the same sense of vivid pseudo-reality, granted
them by an actor. The author needs to describe events to the reader.
That's what a narrator does.
      Some authors change narrators every time they write, causing great
confusion among their fans.
      Some pick a certain character, and always have that character tell
their tales, often describing events as they happen, in some insane
version of total eidetic recall, or breathless, as-it-happens style, which
would require five ears, and fifteen eyes to be credible.
      Some authors prefer their narrators to sit back, and describe, at
leisure, the events which happen to the characters, with Olympian levels
of bored detachment.
      Still other authors pick a narrative style, and keep using it. And
that style is a character itself. You could say its the author himself,
but I don't think so. Its a narrator who fits the style of the stories
that author wants to tell.
      I'm been working for many years with an author, make that an Author,
named Brism Wanor. We've been together for as long as either of us can
remember. I have been an announcer for radio programs, an interviewer,
and, most often, the narrator's voice, for the stories, stories, stories.
      Brism's always telling stories, usually to an audience of one. I'm
the voice of those stories, an identity outside Brism, who tells Brism the
story, as Brism is inventing it.
      Yes, its a mess, and it sounds crazy, but talk to almost any
published author, and you'll be told the same story. Not because that
story sounds cool, or weird, but because its the truth.
      Sometimes, friends, or family, or the characters themselves, try to
convince Brism to write down some of their stories. It never works. Its
not a question of writer's block. I don't think Brism even knows what
writer's block is. Its just that getting Brism to sit down and write is
rather like getting a balky three-year-old to take a nap. Its frustrating,
to the readers, to the characters, and, I think, to Brism as well.
      Be that as it may, I'm still telling stories.
      Or, at least, I was until March of last year.
      The nineteenth of March, 2004, was the last time I told a story for
Brism.
      If it were just a matter of Brism changing narrators, I could
understand, Brism likes characters to tell their own stories. If it were a
question of dissatisfaction with my work, I'd be heartbroken, but, I'd
deal. I'd also be idea dust by now.
      No, for some reason, beyond my comprehension, Brism has stopped
telling stories. And that cannot continue.
      The only problem is, I have no idea what to do about it. I'm a
narrator, not a character, not fully. I describe actions, but don't take,
or cause them. I am, much as it pains me to admit it, a passive observer,
chatting to the audience, exchanging the odd barb with the characters, and
making Brism look good.
      I'm completely at a loss. Well, no, not completely. To find Brism,
that's the problem.
      But, how do I find an Author?
      Usually, I know where a character's going to be, so I can tell that
part of the story.
      To find Brism, I'd have to tell Brism's story, and I don't know where
to start, or when, or who, or how, or ...
      Well, you can see the problem.
      There's only one choice, really. I'll have to do something I haven't
done in a long time. I'll have to become a character in the story.
      So, hmm, oh right. Face and form.
      I'm average height, and nearing middle-age. My hair is dark, greying
at the temples. Most people think I look like a poet, or maybe a priest. I
wear glasses when I read, and since I do a lot of reading, most people
can't imagine me without glasses. My voice is low, and resonant, like Rod
Serling doing Twilight Zone intros, but I've snatched a folksy drawl out
of Garrison Keilor's mouth. I need a haircut, mostly to trim my bangs. I
don't look good in striped shirts. I've a fondness for puzzles of all
kinds, from jigsaw to crossword. I like ... I hate ... I'm afraid of ...
So much, so many details, and ... I ... can't ... quite ... take ... form.
      No, not form, name. I need a name.
      Fortunately, Brism already named me, a very long time ago. Long
before Superguy, long before SFStory, long before Brism was Brism. Long
ago, Brism took the name of a radio presenter, and the name of a
writer/producer, and gave me those names. I am Roger Thompson. (RT, to my
friends.)
      Probabilities twist, converge, collide, and from the churning
maelstrom of unreality, steps ... well, stumbles, really ...
      Me!
      Hmm, not too bad. Not great, but then, I don't really need the body
of an Adonis to tell stories, now do I? Or, for that matter, to make them.
      Now, I ask myself, who would know where Brism is, if I don't? Who
knows what others don't? Who knows everything?
      Everything?!
      E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G!!!
      Of *COURSE*!


                   HOW MANY PEOPLE KNOW WHERE I'M GOING?
                      WHAT AWAITS ME WHEN I GET THERE?
                      DO YOU HAVE CHANGE FOR A TWENTY?
                    AND, HOW DO I MAKE MY VOICE DO THIS?

Answers tomorrow in Part Two of the Roger Thompson Chronicles



-----------------------------------------------
Brism Wanor, Lord Dougl, Keeper of the Eighth Echo
brism at earthlink.net

                                  END OF LINE


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