I am furiously working with two fingers ticky-ticking away
on the next book. One story I still keep till the end of my rewrites is because
it makes me cry. I hate this story. So stupid really, I mean like, it is just
about a dog.
Most Rhodies have something emotional about dogs. Why do we
come so attached to them? Someone told me that it because they never would
betray you. Perhaps actually as the war made life untenable, we betrayed them. Beaten
to death, shot or we put them down or gave them away as the last of the
Rhodesians fled. I shudder.
So I have beautiful story about a dog that was as useless,
hopeless and suffered from ADHD as myself. He wasn’t just a dog; he was my
brother.
I found some words from a song that I wanted to include in
the story. Smart money said check out the copyright. Well, it is a mess. You
can download, read on the internet, do what you like with lyrics, but put them
in a book – serious trouble. You have to try and find the owner of the lyrics
(not necessarily the artist) contact them and either they ignore the Email,
reply asking for serious bucks or give you the okay shortly before you die. In
other words, unless you have a powerhouse publishing company behind you –
forget it.
I believe this will all change because of the internet. The
copyright laws need to be totally revamped. I find that writers should be able
to set moods by quoting from songs with no fear of being sued. It is ludicrous.
In this point of time I have no choice. But I will give you
a hint of the passion of the story from a song. I put it up here because it is
quite frankly everywhere and I quote from Wikipedia –
Mr. Bojangles is the title of a song originally written and recorded by American
country music artist Jerry Jeff Walker for his 1968 album of the same title.
These are the lines –
‘He danced for those at minstrel shows and county fairs
throughout the South.
He spoke with tears of fifteen years how his dog him, he traveled about.
His dog up and died, he up and died,
After twenty years he still grieves.’
He spoke with tears of fifteen years how his dog him, he traveled about.
His dog up and died, he up and died,
After twenty years he still grieves.’
I never owned another dog again.
1 comment:
Yikes - getting a stock of tissues ready!
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