DEAR DIARY | THE WRITER’S LIFE
Stories start in many ways. When it comes to the tale itself, the first sentence needs to grab the reader, and the first paragraph to hook them. But the actual conception can come in many forms, and I find good material just by paying attention, to things I hear and see, inside and out, sometimes just playing with words, and often adding surrealism, by mixing fiction with personal fact and barely disguising parts of myself in the stories.
In common with many writers (and my life), I like to mix things up, to challenge myself, or do something slightly different, when writing is such a well-worn plain and originality is scarce. It’s probably why I’ve been compared to surrealist writers like Julio Cortazar and Otrova Gomas, with others thrown in for different genres (in Cyrus Song‘s case, “with a substantial nod, of course, to Douglas Adams, who can make the impossibly strange seem mundane and ordinary”).
With around half the new stories written for The Importance of Discovery (the working title of my second anthology), I have another three shorts lined up for publication, and most of the remainder planned. ‘So Long and Thanks for all the Animals’ is out this weekend, ‘The Long Now Clock’ next week, and ‘Quantum Entanglement in Hamsters’ not long after.
Two of the remainder are word fuckery titles, but stories I want to play and experiment with. I have plots for both ‘Lawrence and the Machine’ (occurred to me when I was listening to Florence) and ‘The King and I, Robot’ (something I saw in a question on Pointless), and they’ll be in the future book at least.
Lawrence and the Machine is planned as one of my exploratory deep dives into the human condition, specifically sexual identity and alignment, and especially when my own are so mixed up (although importantly, not confused). The central protagonist isn’t so much consumed by crisis, as exploring themselves (the plurality being central), an entity which presents as male, but who identifies more with their feminine self, and who has little interest in sex. They are asexual, or in the context of this story, pan-sexual.
My point being, it’s possible to fall in love with someone and not necessarily want to fuck them. Such a union, should it occur in that kind of relationship, wouldn’t be described so crudely. That applies equally to me as a human as it does my fictional character.
One day, and encouraged by a writer friend, I may round up all my fictional characters (at least a dozen central cast and probably hundreds of extras), from the various crevices in my imaginary universe, and set them all in one, long story (probably a 20,000 word “short”, or possibly a novella), set in something like the Hell’s Club movie mash-up. That would be quite the literary mash-up, if I pull it off. It would be a very strange tale, and an exploration of my own human condition (story of my life).
Stories start in many ways, and when at least a part of me is in most of my stories (a mannerism in a character, or a place from the fringes of memory), perhaps that story might be ‘Lawrence and the Machine’, because it sounds better than my own name.