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I began this writing malarky a few years back. I wrote some stuff, then wrote different stuff, now I'm writing even more different stuff that's an attempt at taking into consideration the realities of this very serious, lovely world. Being a goon there's always going to be a fantastical element however the focus on what I'm doing is more towards the consideration of what people, thought processes, and circumstances do to us, and what we do to them. This story features four people who want for nothing material. They live in a grand house where everything is provided for them, a house that is the world for them. It's an everything that they take for granted much as any of us take for granted the world we live in. Possibly rich and ripe for the taking, probably offering far less. It is their world, as is totally normal, so it's not trying anything as you'd fine in some genres: there's nothing you're supposed to try to figure out, no Cthulhu'esque evil, no plotting mastermind. At most the plotting mastermind is me playing with language, as should be blindingly obvious from the first sentence, attempting something at modernism/post-modernism. There's nothing working against the characters, as much as there's nothing working against you or I except the entropy of the universe. There's no villain, there's little standing in their way, the characters acknowledge, but still barely understand, that they want more. The story, mostly, is about how we as people find ourselves within our setting. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1cLm5glaIg27rZRXSldniEUZGDk8Dzpxsremp6ILqyrg/edit?usp=sharing I shared some of this with a friend who said it's like I have a fetish for language. At the time I thought it was a good thing, so, please tell me, goons.
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Apr 12, 2019 00:10
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Mel Mudkiper posted:Just at a brief start, I would delete the first two sentences Perfect. Thanks. Hey! But what about the rest of it? Mrenda fucked around with this message at 04:49 on Apr 12, 2019 |
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Apr 12, 2019 04:40
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All the comments are fair. It might be that my self-consciously indulgent writing, part of my weird brain, only works for my weird brain. If you're stopping, or already stopped reading, but would take a new jumping-off point then reading from the section that begins around page 31 (or the next section at page 34) would be doing me a big favour. I would say it's around then the pace slightly picks up. It won't change in style, but what I was trying for at the beginning changes around then.
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Apr 12, 2019 17:45
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It's back to the drawing board for me. I was far too circumspect in what I was doing and in my whorl of language. That's fair, it was an entirely indulgent story where I left rip. Seeing as there'll be no-one reading I figure it's ok to lay out some of the logic behind it. Madness is definitely a part of it. All the characters (bar maybe Donald, although he has his own issues in this world) have suffered a trauma or mental malady of some sort. It's not enough, or the trigger wasn't enough to cause acute issues, just the type of psychological tripping that pulls someone down slowly in a type of society where individual purpose is lost. The house is a place where everything is provided for them, somewhat a reflection on a society where if not UBI, then at least menial work is available for people who want more but can't achieve it. It's an experiment on what happens when a world is devoid of opportunity but basic comfort is provided for. All the characters have gone a little crazy from such a world (crazy like the awareness we now have of people's troubles in today's post-modern world.) The minutiae and shticks, as it was put, is the evidence of there being nothing more for the characters. They're living and experiencing the triviality of a world without possibility, much as I wanted the reader to. This doesn't work as a book. So I'll just say thanks to everyone who gave it a go. I'll keep writing but I'll rein in my flights of fancy back to a more normal level in future.
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Apr 13, 2019 14:13
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