Talking To Myself

A Grin Development

2012-03-07T10:40:00.000-08:00

Today marks exactly two years since I had an idea, so Ithought for today’s blog I would share a grin development, or how my gameGrindle got to where it is now from that day.

A Simple Idea – Grindle Prototype

I came up with the original idea for Grindle on the 7thMarch 2010, after my friend discussed with me about doing a game together formobiles and if I had any ideas.

At that point I didn’t have a clue, but when Iwent to bed my strange mind got to work and when I awoke the next day I hadGrindle in my head, a game where you are shown a row of four grins of differentcolours and then after are asked to pick a certain colour. A simple idea that Ifelt would be easy for my friend to program but would also make for aninteresting game. So that next morning I set about doing some rough graphicsand even knocked up a basic version of the normal game in Game Maker to showhim what I had come up with. There were also three additional modes – Time Attack,Full House, and Grindle Mode.

So with the Prototype complete my friend set about doing aversion for Android. A number of months passed and progress was slow, with eventuallythe project seeming to die, but I wasn’t willing to let it end there and as Iam one never to look at something and say I can’t do that, I decided to do aversion of my game myself.

A Foolish Plan - Grindle Extreme

Returning to Game Maker I set about implementing the otherthree modes. I had no experience with programming so this was very much alearning process, trying to work out how to make random grids, having countdownclocks and various game play ideas that I hadn’t a clue how to do.

At thispoint I came up with the design having a tribal tattoo feel to it, which wouldhopefully appeal to the a modern Alternative market.

After a few months of hairpulling work I eventually had it done and in November of 2010 released GrindleExtreme on the Game Maker site. It got a few good comments and made me realisea number of things that needed adding, but it was an achievement for me to havegot the game complete and working to how my initial design had laid out.

The game then sat there twiddling its fingers until in2011 when I decided to submit it to the publishers of Game Maker, as they also publishedsome of the games made with GM. The creator of Game Maker replied to me acouple of months later and said he felt that the game was interesting and well executed, but hedidn’t think there was enough in it. I asked him if I gave it an update wouldhe be willing to have another look and he said he would.

The Final Fantasy - Grindle Oni

With the goal of adding more I then spent two monthsmaking the next version of Grindle, which I called Oni. The Alternative triballook was refined, the graphics were all redrawn for a potential HD product anda lot was added. The game now had an additional nine game modes including afollow the light pattern game, a variation on Find the Lady, and a twist on thepicture puzzle games.

I learnt a lot during this time about programming and itwas even trickier doing it as I had to add the new elements while also buildingthem around the existing ones. But two months later I had Grindle Oni finished,it had 120 Challenges, a tweak system to alter the game, and two new tunes togo with the original, yes I did the music also.

So there is stood Grindle Oni, and again I felt I had achieveda lot with this. Looking back on the original what once looked good now lookedvery crude in comparison. And then I submitted it back to the publisher.

Awhile later I got the response, an extensive list of feedback on my game andapart from some cosmetic elements that could be improved the overall commentwas there was too much. Yes the game now had too much content, is it possiblefor a game to have too much?

In typical Winterflood fashion I had made the game toomuch.

Later he put me on to another company who was now handling the publishingof their games; the man there looked at the Grindle Extreme version by mistakeand said he was interested but when I showed him the Oni version they ponderedit for a couple of months.

In the end they felt it didn’t fit their idea of the mobilemarket today, so I had manage to produce a game that matched my books and art,something distinctly me but without a possible market. With this apparently final nail in its being published I then decided thismonth to share the game with the rest of the world, it would just be sitting onmy computer doing nothing otherwise, and I still think people will enjoy it.

I hope you enjoyed this little recap of the games journeyfrom quick idea to final product, I don’t know if there may be still somedevelopment in it but it is there for people to play and hopefully have funwith. So please now raise a glass and wish Grindle a happy birthday and if ithad a cake it would no doubt have a Grin on it :)

Link to Grindle Oni - http://sandbox.yoyogames.com/games/195237-grindle-oni

The Last Mask Covers Uncovered

2012-02-28T10:34:00.000-08:00

Ladies and gentlemen, today for delectation and disdain I present the three covers for the mighty epic they call The Last Mask Trilogy -

- Book 1 -

The opening act, with the Harlequin setting the

performance off to a fine start.

- Book 2 -

A bit of a puzzle develops in book 2 as the question of

identity takes center stage, a puzzle indeed.

- Book 3 -

The end of the trilogy. As the show develops we deal with power,

and it looks like someone is about to crack up.

Goat Trading For Fun and Profit

2012-02-26T05:33:00.000-08:00

When you have finished your latest masterpiece askyourself a question. Who are the most important people to you and that work?

So you are sitting in the cave, and you have your new tale finished, ready to share. You’ve given you loincloth a fresh wash in the localstream and stoked the fire ready for the show, and now you wait. But while youare waiting you sit and think about this tale and how it will be received. Howdo you tell if it is a good one? How do you know if your tales will please?

You look across at the entrance to the cave, and theresits Ugg, a big, ugly brute… your agent. He is charging two goats for entrytonight, but that is all right as you do get eighty percent of all goats received.After every tale he will inform you of the total goats taken, and praise youfor a fine tale based on this number, but is that something you can judge yourtale by. Ugg is after all only interested in the goats, although the tribalcouncil could never prove some of the more salacious rumours. So as long as hecan see your work as being goatworthy, then he will praise it. But this doesn’ttell you how good your tales are, how much people really enjoy them.

Ugg can only see goats when he takes you on, he is always mindfulof his success percentage, he doesn’t really care what your story is about justas long as the people turn up every night to hear the new one. When he tellsyou it is wonderful he will always have those commercial thoughts in the frontof his mind, and how you will affect his reputation in the world of taletelling, because frankly it is the only world he has a reputation left in.

The person that is of most value, other than that littlevoice in your head that likes to pop up at the most annoying times, is the onewho turns up, sits through your tale, and is willing to hand over a couple ofgoats to do so. The audience, the reader, the patron of your art is moreimportant than all the Uggs of this world. The audience do not have a commercialinterest in your tale. They are not making money from your work, but want togive you the time to tell your story. So when someone sits through your latestmasterpiece, their feedback is worth more than any goat trader.

When someone reads your story, or watches your performance,and then tells you what they think, it should be an unbiased opinion. It shouldbe comments that are not based on commercial values of how you can be exploited.Apart from the occasional tribe member that you may have upset during theweekly cave painting, and whose opinion might have ulterior motives, thisfeedback should be valued and appreciated above the likes of Ugg’s every day.

If you want to improve your tales then listen to thepeople that have given it the time, without financial interest. If you want tobe a goat mogul then go find Ugg, there is sure to be a cave nearby with one ofhis sort inside.

And finally please remember that if the audience don’tlike the tale, there are no refunds, as Ugg does not return goats.

I Hate Flashbacks

2012-02-19T08:20:00.000-08:00

I have a cunning plan. I really need to get book two ofThe Last Mask done, but I am short of ideas and time. The book is about one ofthe characters searching through their memories so I came up with the plan ofcutting massive chunks of the first novel and putting them into the second, andthen just writing little bits to join together these memory flashbacks. Soundsfair enough, right? It means I can churn out the book in a week, and it ischeap, so that has to be a good thing? The readers won’t mind, will you?

Don’t be silly. That is a complete cheat to the customer.So why do series like Star Trek and Stargate think it was a validexcuse for putting together an episode when they had run out of ideas andmoney.

Just to make it clear - I hate Flashback episodes.

I just watched “Shades of Grey” the climatic episode ofStar Trek the Next Generation series two and it was a flashback episode. Yesthe climatic episode of the series was a boring flashback… really? Anyway, this episode dealt with Riker getting an infection,which is only surprising for the fact that with the amount he puts himselfabout it has taken two whole series for him to get an infection. We are thensubjected to a mass of flashbacks from the previous two series. These type ofepisodes are surely only enjoyable to your pet goldfish with their limitedmemory.

If I did what they did with my book then I am sure readerswould hate me and probably never buy anything of mine again, but I can’t seewhy it is an acceptable tool for TV series. Can’t anyone come up with a morecreative way of having flashbacks? Can’t they shoot some new, relevant scenes?

And while talking about flashbacks, Spartacus had a reallyidiotic one this week also.

** Spoiler Warning **

If you watch Spartacus and haven’t watched this week’sepisode skip the next paragraph…

One character this week believed the love of his life wasdead and so was remembering her, cue flashback. The only problem was theflashback had a new actress in the role, so only the dumb would not realisethat this meant she wasn’t dead, otherwise why not just use old footage. Okaywe knew it was probably a lie that she was dead, but try and be a bit moreintelligent TV people, or should I say at least treat us like you think we areintelligent.

** End of Spoiler Warning **

So there you have it, I hate flashback episodes becausethey are cheap and wasting my time. If I want to see a fondly rememberedepisode I can go back and watch it on DVD. And rest assured, I won’t be pastingbig chunks of the first book of The Last Mask into book two, I think I can be abit more creative than that.

Till next time, make it so...

A Romantic Comedy

2012-02-14T07:44:00.000-08:00

A romantic comedy would probably sum up those rare occasionswhen I have had someone to possibly enjoy Valentine’s Day with, the emphasisbeing on ‘possibly’. So I therefore tend to avoid the day and even at one time,when I worked in a shop, booked the day off so I didn’t have to witness theevent.

So as this day draws around again my thoughts were drawnto my novel, The Last Mask, and all the love that is in it, and you thought it wasall darkness and death didn’t you?

The novel starts off with a bit of unrequited love, adds abit of brotherly love, and sprinkles the love of family and friends in for goodmeasure, all in the opening act. The rest of the novel goes on to cover suchvariations as doomed lovers, the love of two clowns for each other, which wewill quickly pass over, and a bit of self-love from one particular ego maniac.So much love in all its forms that maybe I should have pitched it as a romancenovel, or not…

And there you have it; a novel that at first appears to befilled with a lot to fear actually has a lot of love to give, if you look inthe right place. But then again some might say that love is something peoplefear, so maybe the book is all about fear after all.

I hope those that have a good Valentine’s Day to look forwardto enjoy it, and to those who don’t I hope you manage to avoid its horrors. AndI leave you with the opening of Act 4 of The Last Mask, a chapter appropriatelycalled - A Romantic Comedy.

Love is but a chain we tie around ourselves, a prison forour souls. So easy to fall into the pit of its embrace, but so hard to climbback out of its oblivion, we believe we are free, free to choose, and free tobelieve what we see, but that is a lie. Fate’s hand will play us with its tune,and love’s chains will imprison us like a fool, we are but the stuff of life,and it will take us where it will. Returning to a love once lost is a placethat no mortal should go, a place full of memories that can never be again, andfull of hope that will forever be lost, for within this place lurks a shadow,full of hate and regret. So now a romantic comedy, of dark proportions, awaitsour fools on this quest.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Last-Mask-Book-Tradition-ebook/dp/B006NWQYVI/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1324298916&sr=8-3

http://www.amazon.com/Last-Mask-Book-Tradition-ebook/dp/B006NWQYVI/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1325936055&sr=8-1

Come Get Your Snake Oil… It’s Fantastic!

2012-01-27T08:17:00.000-08:00

Superlatives, that is what we are talking today, and arethey as super as they once were. But don’t worry this isn’t a grammar blog. Iam talking about the way the world seems to throw words like fantastic, extraordinary,and amazing around like confetti. Everything seems to be exceptional in thisworld of ours but is that so.

How many times havewe seen a book being touted as an exceptional debut by an extraordinary newwriter, to only find it is an utter disappointment? How many times are we goingto see a trailer telling us a new film is a fantastic epic only to discover itputs us to sleep?

Too many, that is the answer.

There is an art magazine I subscribe to and it is amazinghow much they throw the Superlatives around. Every painting is amazing and stunning,every artist is fantastic. Do the readers really get taken in by all this? Arewe all so naive to believe that everything can be exceptional? And what happenswhen something truly exceptional and stunning comes along? Are we going to haveto invent a whole new level of superlative, super superlatives maybe?

It seems to me they are selling us snake oil, toutingeverything and everyone as being exceptional. Or maybe they don’t know whatexceptional really is, maybe they are the ones who are being naive?

If everything is elevated to this higher level then we nolonger see the things that are deserving of the praise, and the meaning of thewords no longer holds any power in our world. Everything becomes an exceptionalmush, background noise for our society.

So when you come across someone or something having abucket of superlatives dumped over them, ask why is this, and are they reallydeserving of these accolades? Don’t accept other’s opinions of ones greatnessif you can’t see it yourself. For in the end it is only what you think isexceptional and fantastic that matters to you.

And one final thing, don’t forget to check out my book TheLast – Tradition on Kindle, it is a stunning and extraordinary read…

Kindle – The Greatest Editing Tool Ever?

2012-01-20T07:18:00.000-08:00

The Kindle, isn’t it a fantastic little device? Being ableto carry your book collection with you wherever you go, to have access to lotsof cheap reads.

I got a Kindle towards the end of last year, but I didn’tbuy it primarily to read books. When I was finishing the editing of my novelThe Last – Tradition I looked at the Kindle and wondered if it would be auseful tool for editing.

As I was publishing the novel on the Kindle it seemed likean obvious thing to have one so I could actually read the novel on it, as the formattingseemed a bit strange at that point and I wasn’t sure how it was going to turn outon the device. I have since worked out how to quickly format my books but thiswouldn’t have been possible without having the Kindle.

Seeing what it looks like on the end device was useful,but an even bigger benefit is the ability to add notes to a book as you read.What a great thing for the writer to have a device that you can read the bookas it will appear in its final form, even if it is going to be printed you canstill see what it will look like page size, how the story will flow on it, andthen to be able to add notes as you read.

You can carry the Kindle wherever you want so you can alsoedit where you want, no having to worry about carrying around laptops or pilesof papers. If you have to go on a trip or are going to be waiting around for awhile somewhere then you can just grab your Kindle and do some editing whileyou are there. No more wasting time sitting around doing nothing, when youcould be editing.

Depending which Kindle you have you can also get it to reada story aloud, which is another vital step I use in editing, to pick up thosesneaky little words that get past your eyes, and something that is also usefulto judge the speed of a story and how the dialogue flows.

Before I got my Kindle I thought my novel was inreasonable shape, but after I had read it several time on the device, and usedthe note making tool, I ended up with over 500 notes with corrections andalterations to be made. So you can see what final editing a novel on the Kindlecan do for you. It also lets you quickly make alterations on your computer andhave your updated version downloaded on your Kindle again in a very short time.No more need to print work out on paper, saving you money and the planet trees.If you have a family member who reads your work it is also a lot easier justhanding them the Kindle with the latest draft, and they can also make notes foryou as they read it.

So there you go, you can see I like my Kindle for editing,something that I didn’t initially think of using it for. A portable device thatlets you read your work like a book and edit wherever you go, what is not tolike about that. Oh and you can also get a lot of very cheap, exciting books toread as well, in between the editing of course.

Give Us Your Dreams

2012-01-11T10:12:00.000-08:00

Give us your dreams the man had said, such innocent words at first but now he realised the cost of what those dark lips promised. The things he had seen within, the tricks of the mind, the dance of the shadows that were his thoughts. They had promised to show him wonders beyond his imagining, but within there was only a reflection of the things he didn’t want to see.

Give us your dreams and we shall show you your nightmares echoed the voice of the man, a truth that echoed through his mind as the darkness surrounded him.

* * *

Blackwillow twirled his dark moustache as he watched the wooden caravan moving slowly across the dew covered field, pulled by two big horses that looked like they were dragging the weight of the world behind them, and in truth they were.

It was early morning in the Carnivale of Delirium, and the usual collection of freaks and artistes were already milling about the tents and side-shows, preparing for the night ahead. But none of them paid the slightest attention to the caravan that was approaching. Not a peek from the stilt-men or a glance from the bearded lady, and not even the jugglers missed a beat in their juggling as it drew near. They had seen many a sight arriving here in the Carnivale over the years, but if they had known what was in that caravan on this cold, frosty morning then they might have taken a moment to pause, and reflect on what was to come.

Once more he looked at the letter in his hand, reading the stylish script. The message had been delivered just over a week ago, and he still couldn’t believe that the object was being brought to his Carnivale, even though the caravan containing it was now actually being pulled across the field in front of him. Blackwillow was still a disbeliever of the truth of what was contained in that caravan. He had heard numerous legends about it from the Four Corners of the Earth, many a tale of the wonders and dangers of what lay within. But until he saw it with his own eyes, and got to finally touch it, he would not believe that it was here, and that it was going to become a part of his Carnivale of Delirium.

The caravan came to a halt a few feet in front of him, the skinny, dark man who was controlling the horses not moving from his perch up front, as the door at the back of the caravan opened. After a brief delay the Arabian gentleman, who Blackwillow had been expecting, emerged. A tall slim man dressed in a fine, dark green suit that the Carnivale owner found very stylish, but not how he expected this man to be dressed.

The letter had been an elegant introduction to this gentleman and what he had to offer, and of course had been more than complementary to the Carnivale itself. And now here he was in the flesh, a fellow master of the incredible and exotic; a man whose journey had taken him to many a strange land, and not all of them apparently of this world, if the tales were to be believed.

“Ah, Mr Wuzralam,” said Blackwillow, smiling at the Arabian as he walked towards the Carnivale owner. “It is so good to finally see you here.”

“It is a pleasure to be here, sir,” said Wuzralam, bowing slightly and giving Blackwillow a pleasant grin as he regarded him with those dark eyes, eyes that had witnessed the fall of many a great civilisation; most from what he had offered them, and a few from what they had denied.

“Do you need some of my chaps to help you unload it?” said Blackwillow, looking expectantly towards the caravan.

“That will not be necessary, sir,” said Wuzralam, snapping his fingers in the air. “I have all the help I need, but thank you for the offer, of course.”

“No problem,” said Blackwillow, watching the two huge, ochre skinned men that now emerged from the caravan. “I expect they are used to carrying it around.”

“Indeed they are,” said Wuzralam, as the two men removed their burden from the caravan. “It is a weight that we have grown accustomed to over the years.”

“I’m sure it is,” said Blackwillow, unable to now draw his eyes away from the thing the men carried. “I have set that tent over there aside for you; I trust it is of a suitable size?”

“Indeed,” said Wuzralam, looking over towards the large tent, and then signalling for his two men to proceed.

The box was made from what looked like a very dark wood, or even a black stone. It was hard to tell exactly, and Blackwillow believed it might have actually been changing its appearance slightly as he watched it being carried towards the tent. As the two hulking men moved past him he cast an appraising eye over the item, and it did seem to be the genuine article, this box of legends. He was so intrigued by it, as despite all his knowledge he had never seen markings like the ones carved into the box’s surface. They looked like runes or some other ancient symbols, but were unlike anything he had witnessed before.

“So my offer to you was acceptable, sir?” asked Wuzralam, as the box was carried into the tent; his words a seductive charm that had tempted many a great man into his grasp over the centuries.

“If it does what you say, then it is most acceptable,” answered Blackwillow, grinning. “It will be most acceptable indeed.”

“Would you like to look in the box, sir?” said Wuzralam, gesturing to the tent; obviously making an offer that was no doubt of second nature to this dealer by now.

“Look around you, my dear chap,” said Blackwillow. “These are my dreams you see before you, and I don’t think even your box can handle all of this.”

Wuzralam looked across the Carnivale of Delirium, at all the strange attractions and sights laid out before them, and a sly smile spread across his face. “I think you are right about that, sir.”

“But I always like to check out the attractions first, you understand?” said Blackwillow, moving across the grass towards the tent. “So I think it only fair that we get someone, on my behalf, to see what your box of wonders has to offer.”

“Of course,” said Wuzralam, looking a bit cautiously at the owner of the Carnivale. Had he ever had to deal with someone of the likes of Blackwillow? Could any of those he had promised so much to before have a chance of measuring up to the man he was dealing with today? Blackwillow doubted that very much.

“Ah, Dumpken,” said Blackwillow, grabbing a sad looking clown who had had the misfortune of passing by at that moment. “You will do perfectly for this little matter.”

“What?” said the clown, looking shocked and surprised, which for most clowns in the Carnivale was their normal expression; but for Dumpken a rare thing. “I didn’t do it, boss. No not me, not little old Dumpken. It was the other ones, you know how they like their silly pranks, and well it just got out of hand, and before you know it… well they said they would clean the mess up, but knowing them, I doubt it.”

“Yes, I’m sure that is what happened, but enough of all that,” said Blackwillow. “I have a little job for you.”

“Really,” said Dumpken, still looking very surprised. “A job for little old Dumpken, are you sure?”

“Yes, yes. Now this gentleman would like you to go and have a look in his nice box, which is in that tent over there. Do you understand?”

“You want me to go and look in a box?” said Dumpken, looking over at the tent with trepidation creeping into his eyes. “It doesn’t have one of them jackamaboobs in it? Does it? As they scare the willies out of me, boss.”

“No, no, no. It will be fine,” said Blackwillow, patting the clown on the shoulder. “It is a box full of wonderful things, and I would just like you to check it out for me.”

“I see,” said Dumpken. “Well if you are sure, then alright I will have a look for you. Have I got to fill out a questionnaire after, as I am not very good with all those difficult questions, and I am sure they leave the correct answers off the multiple choice ones when I do them.”

“Don’t worry,” said Blackwillow, looking at the sad clown, and wondering if this was the right person to try the box on, “there won’t be any questions.”

“So what do I have to do then, mister?” said the clown, as he was led over to the tent by Wuzralam.

“It is very simple, sir,” said Wuzralam, giving the little clown a dark smile. “Just look in the box, and give us your dreams.”

“My dreams?” said the clown, pausing in front of the tent. “Oh my dreams are so boring, nothing interesting there.”

“I am sure that is not the case, sir,” said Wuzralam, leading the clown inside. “I would think there are many wonders inside your mind.”

Blackwillow watched the two disappear from view and he did really wonder now if it had been fair choosing Dumpken for this test. He knew that if the box did what the whispers had told him it did then that clown would never be the same again.

* * *

A crow landed on one of the posts holding a tent rope, and expressed a screeching protest at the Carnivale owner, as was its daily routine. Blackwillow ignored the cursed complaints of the black bird and wondered what was going on inside the tent, with his clown and the box. An hour had passed since the strange Arabian man called Wuzralam had taken Dumpken inside, and there hadn’t been a sound heard since.

He wondered if this was indeed the right attraction for his Carnivale of Delirium. Did it have the qualities he was always looking for, or was it all just a case of smoke and mirrors? He had seen too many acts like that before, but once they had arrived at the Carnivale he was quick to destroy any hopes they had of joining his quality establishment. Everything here was real, and he had no time for fakes, a fact that many had been painfully made aware of over the years.

The Carnivale owner began to now get impatient, and was tempted to go and see what was going on inside, but as the urge began to take over he could hear a sound.

Laughter could now be heard coming from the tent, and then Dumpken emerged from within, with the biggest grin you have ever seen a clown wear, plastered across his face.

“Oh my, that was funny,” said the clown, laughing in a maniacal way. “Most hilarious that was, we enjoyed that.”

“Well that seems to have gone down well,” said Blackwillow, walking over towards the two men. “So the box was entertaining then?”

“Oh my, oh yes, indeed. Oh the things he has in there,” said Dumpken, still laughing in an uncontrollable way, “Very, very, funny.”

“Then it looks like we have a deal then,” said Blackwillow to Wuzralam, as the clown walked away while continuing to laugh hysterically to himself.

“Thank you, sir,” said Wuzralam, watching the clown with what looked like a puzzled expression.

“So, you can start tonight,” said Blackwillow, “and we can sign the agreement, that is acceptable?”

“Indeed, sir,” said Wuzralam, and Blackwillow noticed what looked like a glimmer of concern creeping into the Arabian’s eyes. “But there is one thing I would like to stipulate, if I may?”

“Oh, and what is that?” said Blackwillow, frowning.

“No more clowns, sir,” said Wuzralam, shaking his head. “Please, the box wants no more clowns.”

“Of course, my dear man,” said Blackwillow, chuckling, “There will be no more clowns looking into your lovely box.”

“Thank you,” said Wuzralam, relief now returning to his eyes.

The Carnivale of Delirium had added another fine attraction to its collection on this day, and in a small way this mysterious box had helped one clown see the funny side of life again. Blackwillow was also very happy today, and when Blackwillow was very happy the world had to be very afraid.

Naming Names

2012-01-08T07:56:00.000-08:00

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, I see we have a command performance tonight, a very special show, for a very special man.”

And with that speech The Last Mask starts, and with that speech so does my first Blog. Welcome to the show.

As is tradition with a new Blog you need a name, something that is maybe clever or witty or attractive to the casual passer-by. So after careful pondering I came upon the title “Talking To Myself”

I could have called it something like “Clowning Around” or “Folly of Fools” but that might be expected from me, and people don’t want the expected do they?

“Talking To Myself” seemed like a good name as it was tied into the little speech we read at the start and the medium that we are currently using.

The Master of Ceremonies is performing to what might be an invisible audience and to me that summed up social media and the internet. We perform our show to an audience we believe is watching what we do with interest and excitement. We Tweet and Blog and hope that number following us are actually reading and being entertained by our words, but are we like the Master of Ceremonies performing to an audience only in his mind?

So Talking To Myself is the chosen title and I hope that there is someone out there in the theatre watching the show. That is the end of this opening Blog and I will leave you now with the first scene of The Last Mask with our Master of Ceremonies and the audience of his mind.

- Dramatis Personae -

Within the theatre sits a solitary old man. His face, painted white, flakes like the walls of a long abandoned abode; his weary eyes not moving from what stands before him, not questioning why he is all alone.

Chandeliers cast their dazzling light upon the auditorium, the dark ebony masks and gold-leafed cherubs of the surround glowing from the fake warmth. The smell of toffee and honey infuses the air, a sweet aroma giving a deceitful comfort to the one who is on his own, a deception of opulence and sanctuary to those who would be fooled.

And before it all rises the centre of this spectacle; from carved steps leading up to its lofty position, hidden behind the lush red curtains, the sheets of velvet beauty that conceal another world. A place tempting the mind of the audience to wonder what mysteries lurk beyond, the seductive expectation of the performance to come. The stage waits to reveal all that it has to show. This is a temple to the act, this is the ground upon which greatness is performed; this is the theatre of the mind.

The fanfare soars around the auditorium, the atmosphere lifting in eagerness at what is to begin, the pulse of those gathered beating with anticipation.

A bright circle of light flashes onto the sumptuous curtains as the host for the evening strolls across the apron of the stage; he is the Master of Ceremonies, the dandy in the sharp black suit, the impresario with the bright mask of colour and life.

The host bows to the old man, and then looks around the rest of the empty auditorium, smiling at faces that only he seems to see.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, I see we have a command performance tonight, a very special show, for a very special man. Mister Scamboldi, will you take a bow?”

The audience doesn’t stir, even though the Master of Ceremonies waits for his rapturous welcome, and the old man doesn't bow.

“Oh you are all too kind, thank you, thank you,” says the Master of Ceremonies, gesturing towards all the empty seats, his smile a broad dark welcome.

The old man looks on unmoving, the old man is tired.

“Well, without further ado, I say it is time to get on with the show, do you not all agree?”

There is only silence.

“So what do we have for you tonight, what kind of performance are we presenting for your glorification, for your amusement and disdain? Well fear not, ladies and gentlemen, for we have a stupendous show for you all.”

The Master of Ceremonies pauses for drama, feeding off the anticipation of an audience that only exists in his eyes.

“Upon a very different stage another story is unfolding,” he continues, in excited tones. “It is a tale of identity, a tale of tradition, a tale of so much pain and suffering that you will weep with joy. Oh and did I mention the clowns? So dim the lights please. Welcome to the theatre of the mind, Mister Scamboldi, we hope you enjoy the show.”

The Master of Ceremonies gracefully exits the stage, as the lights begin to fade and the curtains slowly rise.

And finally, as darkness envelopes the theatre, the show begins.