So I haven’t posted anything lately. This is partly because I was caught up in NaNoWriMo (I won, but only by not sticking to a single project, which is still a win in my book) but also because I’ve been distracted by a number of other things. But I’m back! And I have plans.
Tag: creative writing
This is was partly inspired by the Matrix and every Matrix-like story, but mostly it was inspired by Steve Reich’s first experiment with phasing, It’s Gonna Rain. I actually like phasing as a technique and enjoy later works like Piano Phase and Violin Phase. On the other hand, the first part of It’s Gonna Rain (The phrase ‘It’s gonna rain’, on repeat, slightly out of sync, for about eight minutes) is akin to being punched in the head repeatedly for eight minutes. I started out trying to replicate this in prose form but fortunately, I don’t think I succeeded.
I almost exclusively write fantasy and science fiction. I write about things that aren’t real, that couldn’t be real, not in this time or place. I do this because I love to make things up. I’ve been making things up since I was small. As a child, I populated my backyard with fairies, and I populated the school playground with cheese-eating grass-gulls. I didn’t just make things up. I also read about made up stuff. I grew up with Brer Rabbit and Aslan, and I spent my teen years with Harry Potter, Frodo Baggins, and Arthur Dent.
All is still
Beneath the pink-rimmed world
The shadows grow long
Then suddenly a cacophony of white shapes shrieking squawking clamouring cackling burst into the air in a cloud of movement a shout against the growing dark like beacons shining they fight and flap and fly through the sunset-streaked sky
And then they settle
Into heavy branches
In the long shadows
And all is still.
Harrin and Alys stared up at the gates. They were made of black stone, and intricately carved with designs of flowers and faces and cities and many things they could not quite make out. They were tall gates, heavy gates that towered over them.
They were also closed. Very closed. There was no gap between them, no handle, no opening.
Oh, it’s you. Hello.
I’m ok. But I can still hear the voices on the other side of the wall.
Not in the wall, the other side. They are on the other side of the wall.
I don’t mean the corridor. I know there’s a corridor if you walk around the wall. The corridor is around the wall. This place is on the other side.
I don’t like playing music while I am actually writing. I find that either it distracts me, or I effectively tune it out when I am working. So it doesn’t really add anything to the process. However, for me, music has proved a great source for story ideas.