Another funky radical
bombtrack
Started as a sketch in my notebook -
Started as a sketch in my notebook -
“Bombtrack”
- Rage Against The Machine
“I
can't write long stories!”
That's
something I've heard a lot. People get the core image they want to
use but can't expand on it. They want to write something long but
find themselves stuck after a couple of chapters. Or write a single
scene story rotating around that kernel of an idea.
Do you
want to know what I started with?
The body was laid out on the hard
wooden floor, naked, limbs and torso delicately curling as they tried
to reach each other in some far off dreamland. Fingers, splayed and
broken, spread over the varnished floor, bloody trails left in their
wake as the body's occupant tried to pull itself into a different,
less awkward position. Across one hand swirled the unmistakable image
of a mouse crouched in a claw.
But that would not happen. Never
would the lithe creature on the floor walk tall and proud again.
Never would its face twist into the smile that had dazzled a million
people. Never would its eyes gleam with the innocent charm of the
forever young. And never would its childlike laughter fill a room.
Instead, it would remain the discarded toy, only picked up when its
owner needed something to shake and break.
The fingers slowly inched through
the pooled blood, making grotesque curls and swirls as they spidered
closer to the leather bound book. What was written upon its crisp,
white pages had once been a secret between it and the person on the
floor.
But no longer. Once the snarling
menace that ruled the secluded house had found it, the special bond
between writer and written had been snapped like a twig. Pages, as
pale and as bloodstained as the whimpering human's
skin, were scattered about the empty room. Some lay in piles while
others, jagged tears separating words from their partners, had been
thrown to the wind, escaping through the room's one broken window.
The window that now hid its healing light behind heavy, bolted
shutters.
A
tiny, kitten-like whimper left the child-man's mouth as his fingers
swept over the supple leather, imprinting and marking it with his
fingerprints. It was the only thing which linked him to a life long
forgotten.
That's
the prologue from “Mars on the Rise” and that's what I started
with. That was written on a train and was intended as an inspiration
piece for a friend to illustrate. That's the tiny seed which has so far spawned three books.
What
happened next is what I call the “Particle Collider Method”. One
tiny idea breeds another. Which breeds another, and so on. After I'd
written that short piece, I was sitting at Crewe train station. The
station has a number of bricked up arches. I wanted to know what
happened behind the arches so I began making notes as I sat on the
next train.
And
then?
My
destination that day was Brighton (a city I love dearly). I was
already writing short pieces of gay fiction and it had been an age
since I'd attempted anything over a couple of thousand words. But as
I was walking around this beautiful seaside city, I found myself
wondering what would happen if the arches of that city were bricked
up. And what was going on behind them. So that night I started
sketching more ideas, which slowly built in to the first novel (very
slowly! It took nearly two years before I had anything resembling a
finished story. I also didn't know what I was working on was called
“Steampunk”. I called it “Science fiction from another era”.).
Building
a story doesn't happen overnight which, in this world of cheap
entertainment and instant gratification, can be frustrating. I know
it's frustrating for any kind of artist whose fans want the new thing
RIGHT NOW!
There's
one idea I've been working on since 2007. It started as a scene in my
mind, set at Heathrow airport, and I couldn't do anything with it. So
I made a bunch of notes and put it to one side.
Then,
in 2010, I had another idea which was completely different. It was
set in a snowy, sleepy little town in America. Again, it was a scene
I couldn't do anything with so I made a bunch of notes and put it to
one side.
In
2012, after listening to a radio show, those two ideas came together
and have become the basis of another novel. But that's still not
without it's problems. There's still a lot of other little ideas
which need to be put into place to make it work. There's still a lot
of “colliding” to be done yet.
If
you want to write something longer, make notes. Obsess on an idea
(although my kind of obsessing right now is playing with flight
simulators and staring at the London Underground map). Do things
which are related to your idea.
One
thing I do is keep “style books”. These are blank notebooks
filled with ideas, photos, quotes, postcards, snippets of scenes.
Whatever comes to your mind. Flicking through them is fascinating
and, slowly but surely, those tiny little seeds of ideas begin to
grow into great trees.
Never
give up!
Thank you <3 - You are right poetry is writing and I am glad to see I am not the only one with random words scribbled everywhere, little uninteligable drawings and boxes, envelopes, draws every little space I have filled with cuttings, pictures, articles, book quotes and inspiring little objects. You are right about time I often leave things, I have become accustomed to instant gratification and I shall now make a resolution to write more things down, its funny I've actually recently started carrying a notebook for lists and it seems to be a good place to jot down those urgent ideas. I already have a few poems in there lets see how it goes. Thanks for the advice, a window into your world. I honestly don't know how you write these all the time and yet I am drawn to article writing how peculiar I am.
ReplyDeleteAs long as you're scribbling something, you're creating. Just because it's not a novel or a short story, or whatever doesn't invalidate it in any way. It takes time to create that perfect piece. I always recommend carrying a notebook around. I'd go mad if I didn't!
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