I'm living a really controversial story and now looking for professional help to develop it into a book.
Talks about a "different kind" of a person...he had a strange life in Lisbon, something more like a dream...but to make it more simple...here we go.
Born in Milan, in a middle-class family, mother doctor father architect, house big.
Sucking in school, but always loved to read books and my secret dream was to become a writer and to tell a story about my life...but how? I had nothing to write about...I was too young.
So I decided to follow the foot-prints of my father and studied architecture.
Last year of my bachelor I did Erasmus in Lisbon...fell in love with the city, the ocean and the job of my landlord...he was doing nothing...renting rooms, waiting for students to pay the rent...just enjoying.
Went back to Milan, finished my studies and ran back to Lisbon to do my master.
Instead of studying, I spent most of my days at the beach surfing and after 3 years decided to give up architecture, and to make some money. I started driving tourists around with a tuk-tuk.
With that little money, I rented out my first apartment...sub-renting rooms on AirBnb was working...gave me more money…I got a second apartment...renting rooms to students was working...got more money..found a third apartment...woooooow I made it...I was the landlord.
Doing as little as possible if not giving keys to people, organizing parties and enjoying life...perfect.
But doing nothing gets you bored, so to have more “action” I opened a bar...got popular in the nightlife of Lisbon, had a lot of friends, a car, a motorbike, and a cute dog...I was in heaven...a dream life.
Then a lady broke my heart and I fell into a depression...to fight this period I started to write a diary...and to be precise, a drunk night after having climbed a crane set on the highest viewpoint of Lisbon.
There is where my book starts and from there on, my life took reality took really absurd directions...I was too often wondering...is this real? is it imagination?...why always to me?
All these questions made me almost lose my mind. I became violent, paranoid, started hearing “voices”, with some double personality attacks and people around me told me I was clearly turning into a psychopath.
The insane period finally passed...I think, probably, my sub-conscious was pushing to have something more interesting to “write about”...God knows why I went that crazy.
I sincerely lived a really amazing story and none of it was my decision...this is how I summarized.
Not long ago, in Lisbon, there was this "different kind" of a landlord.
He was always crazy lucky...a bit too crazy and lucky sometimes.
For example, NOW he managed to be publishing his “fictionalized” AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
The beginning is psycho.
It starts from the top of a crane...his heart was broken. Alcohol and drugs were the only solutions to fix it. She was gone forever… all was lost...until something happened.
The summer begins.
Summer means usually insane stories and looooot’s of chicks and party...buuuuut...not this one. This summer was only MAD situations. Refused by girls, hunted by police and fucking almost with any social rule.
It was always happening to him...also to meet another wild person.
ROBERT ALAN POSTMAD. His soulmate.
The only person on earth to be as bizarre as him. It was a lot of fun...at first...but then he was too fast...not always easy to follow. Going a bit too mental...people began to get scared of them. Both started to lose friends, money...but especially HER…she was afraid too.
Ah, YEAH, there is a her...since a long time he is liking Vanessa. He was really obsessed by their relation. He really wanted to tell her that night…. went to knock at her door...TOC-TOC.
Is he gonna find his real LOVE?
USE YOUR IMAGINATION.
The protagonist, in his strange path, grew a deep unnatural hate for Technology and an evolution from being completely atheist into finding GOD...in the closest place you could ever think...any reader’s MIND.
Now I'm following my diary and structuring it to be readable, but I'm looking for someone to support me cause I'm not a real writer...to be honest, is not really “me” when I write...I fell in a sort of trans...and when I “wake up” the page in front of me is full of words.
Already got a contract with the most prestigious Portuguese print-house (Chiado Editors) even if I sent them only 3 stories.