When I first began writing this story, there was a very real, very challenging, very revealing sequence of events that preceded it. These events were partly familial, partly personal, inspired by both struggle and joy. And I suppose that seems sort of commonplace- that is, to experience, to be inspired, and to then relinquish that (control) upon the page.
This is how it goes for us writers. We reach the highs and lows, and all of the gnashing in between. From here, there are only a few choices. One (and this is certainly the case for me), we repress, and years later that built up, mishandled emotion concretizes itself into any number of behavioral disorders, passionless misgivings, fits of alcoholism, and, tops on the list, the carefully crafted yet utterly pointless alter ego “the melancholy man.”
The second, more rational choice is to sit down at the computer and tap out a story.
This is how Alasdair James Galloway came into the picture. And here’s a bit about him:
- His name comes from two of my favorite Scottish writers, Alasdair Gray, and Janice Galloway.
- He tends to brood.
- He enjoys magic.
- He’s a drinker.
- He’s mostly agnostic.
- He’s slightly obsessive-compulsive.
- He has one living parent. But they very well are dead too.
- His brothers, Coren and Toby, are too distant to care.
- He’s a college drop-out.
- He likes road trips.
- He dabbles in anthropomorphism.
Like I say, he’s very much like me. I hope you get to know him. He won’t disappoint.