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Author Topic: Preface  (Read 350 times)
Jim Williams
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Make up real


« on: March 04, 2019, 08:22:27 AM »

It's mostly a pitch. I'm not so sure where to post this, as a result, and in my generosity to Earth,  I'll try here. Any and all comments, reactions, thoughts, anything, is welcome.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Preface

Returning to life following a coma from a near-fatal assault challenged my views on just about everything. Coming back from oblivion, I delighted in such awe-inspiring revelations as I am, and, The Universe is. Then I began to recover from my eight years on the streets.

I liked being indoors again until two years later, I tried to introduce a street friend of mine to my physician. The good doctor only asked me if I was being serious? Then she pointed out to me as she prescribed an antipsychotic medication, there were only the two of us present. My friend didn’t exist. I took her medication in defiance just to prove to her my friends was real.

About a month later all my friends were gone.

While on occasion I still wake up outraged by some long-ago incident, my memoir doesn’t dwell on them. This is a tale about overcoming them. I hope to show in the following pages no one needs to be larger than whom they already are.

I wish to thank for their contributions:
« Last Edit: March 04, 2019, 10:30:35 AM by Jim Williams » Logged

kaperton
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« Reply #1 on: March 04, 2019, 10:36:59 AM »


>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Preface

Returning to life following a coma from a near-fatal assault challenged my views on just about everything. Coming back from oblivion, I delighted in such awe-inspiring revelations as I am, and, The Universe is. This sentence isn't really doing anything for me. You've got me on the edge of my seat with the assault and the coma and then the Buddhist mindfulness kind of brings it slamming back to earth for me. Then I began to recover from my eight years on the streets.

I liked being indoors again until two years later Two years after what? The assault? Or after being off the streets? I tried to introduce a street friend of mine to my physician. The structure of this sentence is a little awkward. How about, Two years after the assault(?), I was enjoying living indoors again. I introduced a street friend of mine to my physician, and she asked me if I was being serious. The good doctor only asked me if I was being serious? Then she pointed out to me aAs she prescribed an antipsychotic medication, she pointed out that there were only the two of us present. My friend didn’t exist. I took her medication in defiance just to prove to her my friends was were real.

About a month later all my friends were gone.

While on occasion I still wake up outraged by some long-ago incidentincidents, my memoir doesn’t dwell on them. This is a tale about overcoming them. I hope to show in the following pages no one needs to be larger than whom they already are.

I wish to thank for their contributions:

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Jim Williams
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Make up real


« Reply #2 on: March 04, 2019, 12:52:42 PM »

Preface

Returning to life following a coma from a near-fatal bludgeoning challenged my views on just about everything. I can report I delighted in such awe-inspiring revelations as I am, and, The Universe is. Then I began to recover from both the assault and my eight years on the streets.

Two years after the attack, I was enjoying living inside again when I introduced a street friend of mine to my physician, except all she could do is ask me if I was being serious. It was then she pointed out to me as she wrote a prescription for an antipsychotic drug that there were only the two us present; my friend didn’t exist. I took the medicine just to show her my friend was real.

About a month later and after losing all my friends, I began to drink.

While on occasion I still jerk awake, outraged by some long-forgotten incident, my memoir doesn’t dwell on such. This is a tale about overcoming them. I hope to show in the following pages no one needs to be larger than whom they already are.

I wish to thank for their contributions: (not included here)

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

1. The mindfulness was just my reporting what was happening to me. I hope I cleared that up.
2. A whole section of the book is about my hearing voices (and recovering from it) so I want the reader to be aware what's coming.
3. After the voices stopped, I lost all my imaginary friends the same the same way anyone loses friends. People who still have heard voices will know what I mean. I hope I can give hope. Also, I'm explaining the title to the book, All My Friends Were Me.

I'm glad to hear I could put you on the edge of your seat. Thank you for simplifying the beginning of the second paragraph. I'm glad you posted. Thanks!
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kaperton
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« Reply #3 on: March 04, 2019, 03:46:36 PM »

Thanks for clarifying those points!

I can report I delighted in such awe-inspiring revelations as I am, and, The Universe is.
I liked your original wording better. I know I told you I didn't like it, but if you're going to leave it in, the other way was better.


What do you think of em-dashes here? I think it makes it more clear and powerful.
It was then she pointed out to me--as she wrote a prescription for an antipsychotic drug--that there were only the two us present; my friend didn’t exist. I took the medicine just to show her my friend was real.

About a month later and after losing all my friends, I began to drink. I liked your original wording much better "A month later all my friends were gone." It was clear that you meant your imaginary friends, whereas this wording makes me think it's a different group of friends.

While on occasion I still jerk awake, outraged by some long-forgotten incident, my memoir doesn’t dwell on such. This is a tale about overcoming them the negative/the bad times/those incidents. "them" doesn't work here since the previous sentence uses the singular "incident." I hope to show in the following pages no one needs to be larger than whom they already are. I'm terrible with who vs. whom, so don't take my word for it, but this sounds wrong.


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Jim Williams
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Make up real


« Reply #4 on: March 05, 2019, 06:45:53 AM »

Preface

Coming back to life after a coma from a near-fatal bludgeoning challenged my views on just about everything. As my awareness returned, I delighted in such awe-inspiring revelations as I am, and, The Universe is, before I began to deal with my eight years living on the streets.

After two years indoors, I brought in a street friend of mine to meet my physician. But the good doctor only asked if I was being serious? It was then she pointed out to me—as she wrote a prescription for an antipsychotic drug—that there was only the two of us present; my friend didn’t exist. I took her medication in defiance just to prove to her my friend was real.

About a month later all my friends were gone.

While on occasion I still wake up outraged by some long-ago incident, my memoir doesn’t dwell on past events. Such as the police throwing rocks on our homeless shelter, or a Social Security worker preventing my participation in a work program because she didn’t understand my disability. Rather, it is a tale of overcoming such obstacles.

I hope to show in the following pages That it doesn’t matter, just be yourself. No one needs to be larger than who they already are.
« Last Edit: March 05, 2019, 04:00:00 PM by Jim Williams » Logged

rivergirl
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« Reply #5 on: March 08, 2019, 11:03:11 AM »

As I read this, the most interesting part to me is the exchange with the physician. It might be fun to flesh that whole scene out and show your reader the scene instead of tell us about it.

About a month later, all my friends were gone.  clap

Start your story here. This last line is a page turner. The "While on occasion" para. adds nothing. All those lessons are inside the book and in your query letter.

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Jim Williams
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Make up real


« Reply #6 on: March 09, 2019, 05:48:32 AM »

Preface

Coming back to life after a coma from a near-fatal bludgeoning challenged my views on just about everything. As my awareness returned, I delighted in such awe-inspiring revelations as I am, and, The Universe is before I began to deal with my eight years living on the streets.

After two years back indoors, I brought in a street friend of mine to meet my physician. But the good doctor only asked if I was serious? It was then she pointed out to me—as she wrote a prescription for an antipsychotic drug—that there was only the two of us present; my friend didn’t exist. I took her medication in defiance just to prove to her my friend was real. I continued to keep my doctor’s appointments although there was no safety net for me.

About a month later all my friends were gone.

My memoir doesn’t dwell on the police throwing rocks on our homeless shelter, or a Social Security worker preventing a work program for me because she didn’t understand my disability. Rather, it is a tale of overcoming such obstacles. I hope to show in the following pages the known truth: it doesn’t matter, just be yourself. No one needs to be larger or greater than who they already are.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Thank you rivergirl and kaperton
« Last Edit: March 09, 2019, 05:57:17 AM by Jim Williams » Logged

Jim Williams
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Make up real


« Reply #7 on: March 10, 2019, 12:06:47 PM »

Perhaps a better one:

Preface

Coming back to life after a coma from a near-fatal bludgeoning challenged my views on just about everything. As awareness returned, I delighted in such awe-inspiring revelations as I am, and, The Universe is before I began to deal with my recent five years living on the streets.

After two years back indoors, I brought in a street friend of mine to meet my physician. But the good doctor only asked if I was being serious? She pointed out to me—as she wrote a prescription for an antipsychotic drug—that there was only the two of us present; my friend didn’t exist. I took her medication in defiance just to prove to her my friend was real.

The drug took effect and about a month later all my friends were gone.

I continued with my medication schedule and doctor’s appointments, but seeing physicians alone provided me with no safety net and my troubles were far from over.

My memoir doesn’t dwell on hindrances; acts like the police throwing rocks on our homeless shelter, or a Social Security worker preventing me access to a work program because she didn’t like me. It is a tale about overcoming.

I hope to show in the following pages known truth: it just doesn’t matter. Be yourself. No one needs to be larger or greater than who they already are.

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