Writress in our midst

Marzeus von Hemelen By Marzeus von Hemelen, 10th Oct 2015 | Follow this author | RSS Feed
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Short Stories

"Marzeus, you come as if you've been sent!", Mother calls me as I enter the West Wing. Mother and Auntie René are busy fiddling around at Mother's computer.

Writress in our midst

Mother wants me to retype Auntie René's entire book. Good heavens! That would be a job.

I've heard a thing here and there about Auntie René writing something, but I thought that was just her own albums about the decade they spent in the Land Of The West, where they had lived on Father's farm, farming with goats, rocks, wildlife and cattle.

Auntie René had always put so much effort into her albums and scrapbooking about their time in the Land Of The West. It certainly was a place of adventure. By the end of their decade there, she had created wonderful, beautiful memory albums documenting in words and pictures a life of honest to goodness adventure.

And then, right at the time they would move away from there, they move all their belongings into Father's house in the Land Of The West, so the new people can move into the house they had been living in. And as cruel as fate can be, for some reason the house catches fire and burn to the ground.

Gone was all Auntie René's books, albums, photos, clothes, keepsakes, memories and whatnot, along with all our furniture and memories, reduced to soot.

Sad time in their lives. It also gave Uncle Gus such an emotional blow, because he couldn't tell if maybe he was responsible by working with a grinder some distance away. Did sparks from it fly all the way onto the house's thatch roof? Or was it perhaps an electrical problem, or lightning, or something else? It was the same house that one night, in the midst of darkness, suddenly a white, bright, silent light shone out of the heavens straight down illuminating the house in a perfect circle - did the house catching fire have something to do with such an activity? Anyway, just the former possibility that he might have been responsible, made him doubt himself a lot after that incident.

Anyway, for the past four years, Auntie René has been trying to replace all the lost memories, by writing a book from her memory and asking photos from people who had visited them and from Father and Mother, of all that transpired during the 10 years they were living there.

A friend of hers, Mrs. Venter, has typed the entire book out for her, so she can look for a publisher now.

However, Mrs. Venter didn't start every chapter on a new page, and so Auntie René cut all the papers into pieces, and stuck all the typed parts onto new sheets so she can photocopy them with every chapter on a new page now. Interesting way to do it.

Except, now, when Mother and her scans and prints it out, it comes out with stripes where all the seams of her cutouts are. They want me to help, by typing the entire book again. Whooooookey, that will take quite a while. I tell them we can rather go to our other printer and set the exposure to lighter and those thin black stripes of the seams won't be copied.

So we go to the room in Tower Mansion where the "cement mixer", as Mother calls it, or the "washing machine", as I call it, is located inside a wardrobe. It's one of those big office type printers that look like a washing machine, hence what I call it, but when it starts up it makes so much noise that the term "cement mixer" comes to mind too.

I have to make a few copies to test different exposure settings.

However, the process is held up a lot by printing jobs of Mother's, starting up every time I want to start doing the job at hand. This probably needs some explanation; when Petros was still here, one of the useful things he did was to make it so we can all print on this printer via the internet, no matter where we are.

However, the printer was off before we came, and Mother and her lack of technical knowledge has been sending print jobs of a piece of music she's doing for our Meow & Flutter children's video series to this printer, of course thinking she's sending it to a printer in her office, not having selected the right printer on her computer.

And, no print job executing, she of course simply kept clicking "Print" & clicking "Print" and clicking "Print" until the printing job was cued about 50 times. Now that the printer is on, it's printing out her heaped-up jobs like crazy. Auntie René laughs herself silly every time the same thing comes out of the printer again and again and again just when I'm trying to scan & copy her book.

Finally we get it right, and she finally has two copies that she can send out to publishers.

We go back to the West Wing where Mother makes us some tea, while I type a table of contents page for Auntie René's book. She's ending her story with the sad, heartbreaking end of the fire that destroyed everything, or so it seems from the table of contents anyway. I tell her I wonder if she shouldn't end with something uplifting. She agrees, but I don't want to tell her really how to write her book. This is her very personal work, close to her heart. And for a moment there it almost looks like she wants to burst out in tears when she talks about the tragic end of flames devouring everything they had in the world.

Mother comes back with the tea. Auntie René says that someone also told her about Lulu.com, where she can publish her book, but she doesn't know anything about publishing a book online. I discourage her from using online publishing; she should first try conventional "real" publishers. On the internet her book is just going to get lost and nobody is going to read it ever.

"I don't have a title for it yet; I wonder what I can call it", Auntie René says as Mother and I see her to her car.

"I want the name The Land Of The West in it."

I make a few suggestions, but nothing serious. It has to be a very alluring title, yet describe exactly and give the right feel for what the book is about. I guess maybe the publisher could suggest something, being somebody objective.

I really hope she gets a publisher for her book.

At the car, all three of us instinctively recall the other day when there was a snake right here where we stand now, when we saw her off at the car. We wonder where it could have come from that day.

Well, fortunately there's no snake today. Auntie René gets in and starts driving off, still thanking us for our trouble.

From the chapter titles I saw as I typed them, I've become curious about the book. I hope I can get to read it some time.

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Author, Book, Book Launch, Freelance Writing, Writer, Writing, Writress

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author avatar Marzeus von Hemelen
I like eggs for breakfast. I live on top of a hill inside a beautiful but old dwelling complex. I like to take life in through my senses and then give feedback through my writing.

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