Sorry, today’s post is not going to demonstrate anything. Nor is it going to be some deep and meaningful monologue upon some artistic philosophy. Nor a useful insight. Instead it is a bit of shared happiness regarding my day of writing.
Well, not really a day of writing. Perhaps four or five hours of writing. After all I did go shopping with my wife and daughter (surprisingly painless and I ended up with chocolate and a cappuccino).
Anyway, I got home and found a few nice comments on my blog and that really enthused me (thank you to those kind people). So I pulled out my current manuscript and started typing away.
OK – so what made it so successful (at least in my own addled considerations?)
Well, I rewrote the entire thing in first person. I imagined myself as my protagonist (a rather unpleasant villain in this particular tale) who is imprisoned within a dungeon with a number of other rascals. Being a verbose individual he berates and subdues his fellow inmates and tells them a sordid tale from his past. He revels in the telling, hamming it up at times and scolding those who would interrupt him.
I was delighted.
I found myself pompously proclaiming his words around my office. (n.b. the term office is a rather grandiose description for the tiny closet-like space where rests the computer and other sundry junk. It also retains the quaint yet faintly distasteful orange and brown 1970s theme belonging to the former owners and which one of these decades I will get around to changing. Perhaps. Maybe. When I am feeling energetic. I wonder whether I could get Nicole to do it for me…)
I imagined myself speaking like Kenneth Williams channelling Vincent Price, with perhaps some Robert Downey Junior and Stephen Fry thrown in for good measure.
It was very liberating, acting out the role. It was like taking a car out for a test ride. I would say words and see if they felt true to Kerphulu. If not then I would not put them down. If they did ring true, then there they went.
Before me now lays a short story with 4009 words. Astonishing.
Tomorrow the family and I travel into Sydney to see a performance of the show Wicked. I’ve seen it before with my wife. But this time we take my daughter. Like me she has a mind that frolics in the fantastic, so hopefully she will be enthralled.
So perhaps on Monday I will review this short story of mine and see whether this euphoria is born of a quality product, or merely of exhaustion. I hope the former.