Never in a million years did I envision this is where'd I'd be at this stage in my career, but so it is. Still home and applying for every rotary job on the planet. I have turned down a few pretty juicy resident posts, that required I move to some Middle Eastern hovel for insane salaries, but debt free and not overly strapped, I can wait a little for the industry to recover. Still, it's frustrating. I'm hoping 2017 is better than the previous year.
But if I had been working, I never would have started my novel. Maybe it's shit but what the hell, it keeps me busy. I finished the story quite awhile ago but then I started editing the monstrosity and realized that my grasp of the English language is crap. Active verbs and transitions and glue words....WTF? Still, it's a learning process and I'm running through the 80,000 words cutting the plethora of "ing"s and weak verbs and wondering why I never scored above a "D" in English. Here's the first two paragraphs that'll scare off any publisher I dare submit to...
It is Edward’s first time in Africa. He navigates the secure echoes and cool conditioned cement of the terminal, at times unsure of his resolve. Like cattle lead to slaughter, herded down narrow corridors without option, he follows his fellow passengers. His eyes dart about in a futile attempt to locate signage to ratify their progress and the multiple turns, yet after an age, and much uncertainty, he enters the clamour of the arrivals hall. Edward fills out the arrival form with sweaty hands and a dull pencil, then joins the queue in front of a wall of formidable cubicles. His heart races, but at last, it is his turn and he is through. He envisioned demands for bribes and cumbersome questions but there were none. He finds the luggage trolly and is pleasantly surprised that his bags survived the journey of tight connections through unsavoury locales, yet another fortuitous headache anticipated for naught. At long last, he stands at the doors to the outside. Bravery shod, with false purpose and lofty air, he dons his armour for the unknown. With feigned confidence, he steps briskly out into the open, exposed, and laid bare, and is promptly enveloped with the warm, moist air of the East African evening.
Met with soft yellow light and a sporadic pelt of taps on bare aluminum that resonates through and above the din of voices, Edward takes a slow breath. It has begun to rain. His eyes dart nervously amongst the busy throng, taking care not to catch any eye. His mind strains to absorb the sea of dark skin and bright colourful fabrics, foreign and exotic to his inexperienced point of view. Are they fellow travellers or marauding hustlers who prey on the newly arrived and innocent? Unable to grasp their intent, he dares not stare. He yearns to blend, but knows enough to appreciate it is unrealistic. Hence he feeds his trepidation in his quest for predators, disheartened with their absence. He is sure they are here, hidden amongst the kaleidoscopic colours, but he realizes his judgement is underdeveloped, and for this, he will take great care. His fear lingers just below the surface, more of being taken for a fool than any physical danger, but there’s that too. Edward smiles, _Here he is, the explorer_. A dream fulfilled, or at least, a distant hope achieved via providence. No one else would agree to the assignment, therefor here he stands, Edward in Africa, the man who relented. Edward feels his chest tighten yet again; the tightness that has plagued him since he agreed to this remote posting, but he consciously pushes it down. Vexed with anxiety, he endeavours to gain mastery over it, and feels more the man.
It gets more exciting, I swear. Thank goodness I still have my camera, and my pilot's license.
