Here he is in all his glory, A very good friend of mine read the book and then took weeks perfecting his image of the priest. Fortunately he got my own image of the man just right. What do you think? Is he the personification of all things evil?
Edward Bayles is/ was a product of his time, The mid 1700's were a time of both political and social upheaval. Never more so then when the King failed to recognise the growing feeling of resentment felt by the colonists. If only George had listened then maybe the war of independence would never have happened but it did and men like Bayles saw a way of profiting from it.
However for now I thought we would look at the man in general for to go too deep into his abilities will result in many story lines being destroyed within the Smugglers Song. I see Edwards as a man of middling years, certainly a man who has suffered many painful episodes. perhaps he himself suffered some tragedy and felt compelled to exorcise them through his own malevolence. he arrives in Stormouth and immediately joins forces with Joseph Wood
His church is perhaps shown here during winter when Joseph was buried. What do you all think is this a fairly good representation? More soon as the Smugglers Song has called me back to its writing. I find that inspiration appears at the most inopportune moments this was supposed to be an detailed insight into Bayles instead its turned into nothing more than a bit of a mish mash should i delete and start again? No i think i'll let you see what i did. Sorry maybe one day in the future i will once again get the muse and do some more. In the meantime I have Joseph to sort out and his dirty dealings.
Friday 16th August.
I have returned refreshed and reinvigorated. I am now thirty chapters into my next book and Bayles is once again taking over my life. I have begun to consider whether he is in fact the personification of my alter ego? Is he in fact me in another guise what i might have been given a different set of circumstances? Or perhaps if you so believe he is in fact a reincarnation of a life i once lived? That rises some interesting questions have we been here before, if as a friend of mine is convinced we have, then Bayles perhaps did once actually walk the earth spreading his malevolence and i am merely the receptacle through which he has returned. All very deep and very meaningful but possible, for i have no deep rooted feelings one way or the other.
As those who have read these blogs will perhaps be aware Stormouth is based upon a town that exists, it is where until recently i knew little of and still know only a small percentage of its history. Read Dead Men Lie and the new book The Smugglers Song and its identity will become apparent. As for the characters they are as far as i know completely fictitious but the experiences the stories i interweave into them are mostly based on facts gleaned from numerous sources and retold. Is this right? I'm not sure, is it wrong? I doubt it. What i try to do is bring the places to life, to share with you what occurred within that town so many years ago and what would have been lost had it not been for a simple statement asked to me by my daughter in total innocence one summer.
"Where does our name come from?" How many of us could answer that question in all honesty I certainly had no idea but i decided to find out and that set me upon this pathway of discovery. The stories i uncovered became more interesting more fantastic the further i delved. One of the first involved my great Grandfather Doctor James Cooper Procter surgeon at Lydd in the mid to late 1800's I never knew my grandfather he passed away before i was born but his father through research has been brought to life and i think i would have enjoyed meeting him. A story goes that he was summoned to the marsh one dark stormy night to pronounce a body found on the beach as dead. When he arrived he discovered great consternation among the fisherman and a story being told of a wold loose among the sand dunes. So it transpired this beast turned out to be nothing more than a half drowned Irish wolfhound and my great grandfather tamed it calmed and befriended it. They became inseparable and in later years in fact saved my ancestor from a death in quicksand. as a doctor he had to go out and one night his horse shied up and he was thrown into the mire. The dog then waded in and so the story goes dragged the unconscious doctor out by the collar of his coat. The old dog then slept beside his master for the three nights it took for him to recover fortified no doubt by smuggled rum from the landlord of the tavern to where he was taken. From then on that dog slept beside its master every night until finally it left the house to die among the sand dunes. This story is true and was recorded in a Victorian book entitled 'Dogs and there doings.' Look for it under faithful old Neptune the story of Doctor Procter. Stories such as this give me the background the basis for my own stories.
I will add more tomorrow but savour this to begin with.
D
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