In an effort to reel in a few more viewers, I went ahead and changed the title of my screenplay in progress from “When Greasers Turned To Freaks” to “Peace, Love and Bombs.” Going into the “Reader” section of WordPress and clicking “Greasers” as a topic, I discovered, to my surprise, how little interest there was in the subject. Frankly, I’ve been disappointed in, what seems to me, a general lack of interest in a creation of mine I thought, for a first attempt, was coming out quite well. I thought a change of title might grab the curiosity of readers who might otherwise have skipped over my work for something more eye catching and closer to home.
I’ve never been one for taking pictures. If it were up to me, there would be no photographic history of my life. Nor do I want a tombstone to be remembered by. I’ll opt for cremation and having my ashes scattered to the wind. What I would like, is to have a story I’ve written, characters I’ve created, stand the test of time and live on after I’m long gone. I really should learn to take pictures, if for no other reason than to awaken the curiosity of other bloggers just enough to want to stop and take a look at what I’ve written. Maybe it’s old school, but the written word, to me, takes precedence over appearances. But then, maybe I’ve given too much weight to the written word, and haven’t given my blog’s look enough thought. Then there’s another, more disconcerting possibility. Maybe my writing stinks. It’s difficult to be objective about your own work. But on the other hand, if so few people have read anything I’ve written, and judging from the number of views on my posts, very few have, how would I know what people feel or think? I get few likes, virtually no comments, and no feedback. I was beginning to think my settings were wrong, or that something in my title or tags was not very interesting. Maybe if I provide a short synopsis.
The story takes place between the Summer of 1970 and the Fall of 1971. A twenty-four year old veteran Seabee, a Nixon Republican, a clean-cut, atypical greaser, falls head-over-heels in love with a twenty year old hippie girl. His initial impression of her being a flower child and peace activist suddenly changes after a bombing at a State University of New York campus. He begins to suspect her possible involvement in the bombing and membership in the Weather Underground. The story is further complicated by a sub-plot involving his father, a low level bookie who owes a large sum of money to a ruthless mobster. More than a story of political intrigue or one solely about the mob, I want to write about an unlikely couple, one bonded by a love so strong, no philosophical or political difference, no threat of physical harm or being ostracized by friends, could bring it down.
I hope, without having given too much away, this might at least motivate a few additional bloggers to take a look. If not, back to square one.