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Joseph E Bird

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August 2021

The Martian

Remember the movie from a few years back starring Matt Damon? And all of those potatoes.

The movie was based on the book of the same name by Andy Weir. Here’s how it happened.

Andy Weir started writing his story and published it, serial style, on his website.

Then he self-published the complete novel.

Then a publisher purchased the rights and re-released it.

Then they made a movie.

And Andy Weir is rich and famous.

With no illusions of my story having the same outcome, I am nonetheless going to attempt to publish my story, Song of the Lost, serial style, on this site. You should see a tab at the top of the page named Song of the Lost. Everyday I’ll post a new chapter at the top of the page. Then when I post the next chapter, I’ll drop the previous chapter to the bottom of the page. Newcomers can read the chapters in order. Those who follow daily can see the new chapter at the top. That’s the plan, anyway. We’ll see how it works.

And please provide feedback with your virtual red pen. Tell me about typos, grammatical errors, plot holes, or anything that you don’t like. And feel free to tell me if something is working for you. So here we go.

Thanks.

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Anna

Vronsky followed the conductor to the carriage and at the door to the compartment stopped to allow a lady to leave. With the habitual flair of a worldly man, Vronsky determined from one glance at this lady’s appearance that she belonged to high society. He excused himself and was about to enter his carriage, but felt a need to glance at her once more – not because she was very beautiful, not because of the elegance and modest grace that could be seen in her whole figure, but because there was something especially gentle and tender in the expression of her sweet-looking face as she stepped past him. As he looked back, she also turned her head. He shining grey eyes, which seemed dark because of their thick lashes, rested amiably and attentively on his face, as if she recognized him, and at once wandered over the approaching crowd as if looking for someone. In that brief glance Vronsky had time to notice the restrained animation that played over her face and fluttered between her shining eyes and the barely noticeable smile that curved her red lips. It was as if a surplus of something so overflowed her being that it expressed itself beyond her will, now in the brightness of her glance, now in her smile. She deliberately extinguished the light in her eyes, but it shone against her will in a barely noticeable smile.

The first time we see Anna.

From Anna Karenina, by Leo Tolstoy.

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