So, I’ve missed yesterweek’s post. The reason is because of Christmas. I got flooded with social interaction, whereas flooded incorporates an underwhelmingly normal-for-any-other-human-being amount of interaction. That, and I’ve been doing some things that don’t really fit the format of the blog, and that still take up time. Ultimately, I also partly forgot about it, thinking I still had some buffer left from what I made for myself before the festivities began. I have a really relaxed schedule with this blog, as I see this as a hobby (more…)
This one I had sitting around for a while, on paper, and it took me quite a while to transcribe it, virtually. You could say, I should have learned my lesson, and started writing virtually to begin with, as it’s easier in every single way to do it, but I haven’t. There is just something to writing with pen and paper, that attracts. That, and I hate proofreading, and writing it by hand means I’ll have to do it at least once, while copying it over.
There was little that I wanted from this story, when I started writing it, other than it starting in a bookstore. I usually write without thinking all too much about what I write, as I simulate, meaning that preceding events usually create following events for me, but here I didn’t even have a general idea of where I wanted this to go. It turned out rather well in my opinion, being a flow of memories, a tour of the city, through different people, and ultimately closing the circle.
I’m not sure, how hamfisted the killing plot was, but I like strong visuals, and the flight of the bullet through the air was a paragraph I thoroughly enjoyed writing. Which brings me to saying, I do not perceive the world as I make my characters do. I am neither paranoid, have children, am frustrated with life, own a bookstore, eat instant noodles, can fly, go to business meetings, nor deeply hate anyone to the point of hiring a killer. I don’t know whether I would even be able to kill, mostly because I think I feel not enough emotional connection to anyone, to be willing to kill someone for them. Me being able to write such things, just means that I could see, how someone could be acting this way, not that I would. Also, I’m not sure how often assassinations actually happen in big old cities. I’d have to check some statistics on the probability of the scenario I described. It seems like a number that would probably be more than I expect, but less than I would believe dramatic.
None of the characters are really fleshed out, nothing is really described. It seems to me this whole text has no meaning at all, but it’s at the very least an exercise in writing. I think the meaning one could take from this is, that all is connected, or that we pass many interesting stories, in the form of people and their lives, every day of our lives. It could be that the mundane of life and the most exciting are interchangeable, or at the very least, strongly interrelated. It could also be a clever way for me to advertise sunflower seeds.
I’m relatively content with this story. It has a lot of everyday life in it, and from what I observe from the people around me, it will be easy for people to identify with someone cynical and hating of his job. Although, Raj in particular might be a tougher case, as he’s also lazy and kind of a douche.
I’m not sure if the story works as it should, because I haven’t actually tested it on anyone yet. The way I tried to make it, was visual for the beginning. The first section was supposed to paint a cosmic image in the minds of people, a sort of firework on a grander scale.
The second part, the introduction of the setting, is a slice of life monotonous journey, bespeckled here and there with a tad of colour. It’s a day at an office job, something regular, but with those small events that make every single day stand out. No two days are the same, and it’s usually not because of the general tone of the day, but because of the details. It was also the part that was supposed to ground the story in reality.
The next part, after the bar night, was where contrast showed. It starts as a seemingly inescapable conflict situation, with the main character kidnapped and apparently being given as an offering to some gods, by an unknown cult. It is something improbable happening, but still grounded enough to be believable. But then they start their ritual, and mystical occurrences happen, showing that the cult is more dangerous than previously thought. Tensions rise.
Lastly, the penultimate part was supposed to show the absurdity of it all, but also, somewhat inspired by my lately readings of Lovecraft, the smallness of man, the faintness of his beliefs. The cult has power, but the god they summon is not what they believed, or wanted. Some kind of ritual is performed, but the cultists become the offerings. And the sacrifice is the only one not to be killed.
The ending was a link to the beginning, furthering the notion, that nothing makes sense in this world. It is but a product of the tears of a scared lost man, who had no intention for it. Although, another way one could think of the message of the story, is, that there live beings beyond our power, that try to scare us, for the continuation of their amusement. Or that the sacrifice of the many, can empower one, to be able to sacrifice much for the betterment of the even more.
There are many ways to interpret the stories given to us, and what I’m trying to say, is that if you have any idea, that you think sounds cool, about what the story means, then by all means keep it. I, as the author, see more than one possible message in this story alone, and with time could likely find even more. After all, art does not need a producer, all it needs is someone to interpret it.