Drafting ideas...
I have been thinking about a new novel, now that Under the Black Sand is complete and online. All kinds of ideas fly in and around my head. But the moment I sit down at the computer, they vanish. Like the screen was radiating some erazor beams from space.
So I need to find a way to capture the butterclies before they get shot down.
We live in an ever changing world. We can never stay in one place, because standing still is losing out to others that keep moving. We are losing if we are not winning.
This mentality is destroying the future. Our one planet is being exploited on a scale never before seen. We are genetically modifying plants, risking whole ecosystems. We are peeling layers of the earth, whole forests, to get to whatever resources lie underneath. Tar sands that help us fuel our cars that could have run on different energy if we’d been interested in researching alternatives. Bauxite to make aluminium to build weapons and cola cans, because we can’t be bothered to recycle.
But it’s not just the future we’re destroying. We are so focused on progress and profit that we won’t hesitate to destroy the past if a few bucks can be earned. Inner cities are neglected, left to degrade and are then sold to developers that bulldoze the whole thing and build luxury apartments for the few that can afford them. History and identity makes way for profit.
I just finished editing a video I shot on Saturday with the great singer-songwriter Rik van den Bosch. His message is so relevant, so strong, that I have decided to share the video here and now. It hasn’t been made public and I hope he will forgive me, but with Istanbul in the grips of massive riots because the government is out of sync with their people, I feel that this needs to be heard. They started out protesting against a public park being destroyed to build a shopping mall. Rik sings about his old neighbourhood being erased and the people having to relocate. We were standing in his old streets, looking at the boarded windows and graffiti. Him telling me about how his grandparents had met on that spot and about the old lady that used to… you get the idea. A street full of memories, waiting for the bulldozers.
Here is the first verse, and the video:
“I’m living on the ghost side of town
They’re turning everything upside down
They tear it down to the ground, when I’m not around
and the people they keep moving out, to the outskirts of town”
The writing of Under the Black Sand is in the final stages. Sentences are being polished and paragraphs shortened. Whole scenes are being deleted without mercy, if they drag along or don’t add to the story. Here is one which is still in, but only just. It may very well be cut before the book is completed. This is a lecture on society and religion by the protagonist.
—
The university was close to the cemetery but Peter was running late anyway. He walked briskly onto the podium and took centre stage. He looked over the audience and smiled at his flock. He raised his hands, like the Messiah they clearly needed. He gave himself a few seconds to get into the mood, to remember how he wanted to start. And it made for a good drama.
‘God created man in his image. Then He created the woman as an afterthought because the dude needed someone to play with. It also probably occurred to Him that it was kind of stupid that all the animals were created in pairs, except for man.
‘Our society is built on this rubbish. We are born, we go to Sunday School, we get married in a Church in front of God that forgot to create a woman and then we live happily ever after with that one and same person until we die and meet the maker in a Church. Oh, and you better make sure that this other person is of the opposite gender because same sex relationships are bad and perversive unless you are serving God. Then all talk about gender and age becomes irrelevant as the servants of God enjoy the sweet taste of youth.
‘We were not designed to live with the same person our whole lives. It’s not called wedlock for no reason. Notice the lock? Men were supposed to spread their genes as far and wide as possible and women were supposed to pick the best genes available at any given time. It would be an evolutionary disaster to stick with one person your whole life. And pretty boring, if you ask me.’
He smiled at an oh such a cute redhead. He also noticed a few faces looking at him in disbelief.
‘Right, you don’t believe me? How many of you have had a relationship problem? You’re pretty young so that may still be in the future, but believe me, it will come. What once was pure bliss will turn into a boring routine. He will ignore you, instead of being all over you. When you say something, he will make mumbling noises and not hear a thing. When you kiss him good night, he will quickly look away from the computer and allow you to kiss him on the cheek before going back to the game he’s playing or whatever. The horrible thing has happened. Boredom has settled in and the relationship has begun the inevitable downward spiral. And believe me, you will be divorced within a couple of years or doomed to waste your life with someone that doesn’t appreciate you.
‘How can this happen? Let me try to explain. Tell me, what is your favourite food? I’ll use lasagne for argument’s sake. You love it but it’s a pain to make so you only eat it once a month or thereabout. Still, every time you have lasagne you love it. How can you ever get bored with lasagne? You would think that it’s impossible, but it’s easy. Here’s how.
‘Your rich uncle dies, leaving you a fortune. You hire a chef to cook lasagne every day for you. Great! Lasagne every day. What can possibly go wrong?’
He looked at a few faces in the audience.
‘You’re right. After a few days of eating lasagne, even your favourite food starts to get a bit tired. You get bored with it. A few days later, you’re sick of it and you can’t stand the sight of lasagne. It used to be your favourite and now you can’t stand it!
‘Lasagne is still great. It’s just that too much of a good thing is no good. Same with relationships. Your partner is still fantastic, still the person you fell in love with and couldn’t get enough of in the beginning. The best thing to ever happen to you. But an overdose is still an overdose.
‘Religion has taught us that we are supposed to be true to one person our whole life. Society has told us that our partner should be roughly the same age. Everyone seems to have an opinion on what we do in our bedroom, and who we do it with. And it better be a shared bedroom, because it is economically impossible for most people to live apart. Religion and stigma has a lot to answer for.
‘The thing is, we don’t have to believe in God to fall into the traps set by his servicemen. Our whole system is an unnatural set of rules, agreed on by old men with a political agenda. Our current system is a fabrication. Their vision of what life should be like. Look around you and you will see that we live by rules created by people, no more intelligent than you are. In many cases, they were less intelligent and a lot more ignorant.
‘Our system is not a law of nature. We made those rules ourselves and they have, in many cases, nothing to do with the human spirit or how we would naturally like to live.
‘The best way to preserve the status quo is to have people’s attention diverted away from the source of this nonsense. We have christians against muslims, catholics versus protestants, communists versus capitalists. It’s a cockfight and as long as the cocks are focused on killing each other, the owners, the ones that set the fight up, are safe.
‘The system relies on conflict and misery. We have feminists fighting old farts. Should the woman be allowed to work or should we lock her up in the kitchen? Why even bother to ask the question? Why should we doubt for one moment that women have the same rights as men? They can do whatever they want. Make their own choices. The thing is, they usually don’t want the same things we do. They are different, because evolution had other plans for them. And don’t think that is a bad thing. Just like I may prefer red apples and someone else green ones, they may prefer shoes to cars, pink to blue, or blue to my pink.’
He looked at her when he said red and she smiled ever so slightly back.
‘It’s all about choice and accepting who we are. Not what some old book says we should be. Whenever I’m not sure about why we do certain things and behave in a certain way, I imagine the purest form of human society. What would a caveman do?
‘Looking at the stone age, we see people living in larger groups than we now do. Yes, we live in cities, but we are isolated from most of the people around us. Cavemen lived with their extended families. There was no nuclear family. Men went out hunting while…’
The redhead hung on his every word. It would be a great evening.
—
Now it’s just seeing if the scene adds depth or drags on. Time will tell.
As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, I am humbly following the advice of a couple of readers and relocating the Under the Black Sand novel back to where it started. To Iceland. Now that the protagonist is no longer living in an unspecified city in the United Kingdom, but a very specific part of Reykjavík, I felt I needed to research the history of his part of town.
As always, the Internet is your best friend. I stumbled upon a university essay from 2008. Read if from start to finish. Learned about a book by Guðmundur Hannesson, published in 1916, and how his visions influenced the city planning of the 1920s and 30s.
He understood that sunlight is precious in the far north. The arctic winds needed to be tackled and that aesthetics were just as important for people’s health as closed sewers. It wasn’t just about bacteria. A pleasant city would make the inhabitants happy, and therefore healthier.
His guidelines were simple. To maximise sunlight, the distance between houses should be twice the height of the surrounding buildings. Streets should be relatively short and angular to tackle the wind. Never be straight east-west or north-south, as that would create wind-tunnels in winter.
The planning went as far as deciding that living rooms and other areas used during the day should face south, while kitchens, bathrooms and bedrooms should be at the north end of the house. Houses built at the south side of the street would be right off the pavement with a sunny garden at the back. Those at the north side would have a deep garden in front of them.
It is the kind of attention to detail we hardly ever see in newer neighbourhoods.
I remember loving walking the streets built just before the war. I never knew what it was, why I loved this part of town so much. As it turns out, it is no coincidence.
Writing novels is great fun. You get to explore human emotions and their reactions to all kinds of situations. But research can also lead you to things you never expected. I’m totally loving my hobby.
Posted in novel, thoughts, writing | Tagged inspiration, novel, research, thoughts, writing
It’s been oh so quiet around Under the Black Sand recently. I blame it on rebuilding a whole attic and full time job. A kid helps as well. But enough of that.
Today I managed to get back into the story. The original screenplay took place in Iceland. As the novel progressed, the story was moved to the UK. One of my feedback-readers suggested I move it back. After thinking about this, I decided to dive back in and rewrite. It would be a lot of work. Many things that apply in the UK, don’t make sense in Iceland. We have no construction companies with a history stretching back to the early 19th century. We never had any railways to speak of. We didn’t take any serious part in fighting during the two world wars. – Yes, this book is something of an epic. – So, a lot of things had to change.
I saw this as a two-edged sword. In some ways, the story would make more sense in Iceland. It was originally based there and a few things were a bit of a stretch in British context. But there were so many things that would be uninteresting and flat in Iceland, compared to the rich history of the British Empire. Or so I thought.
Before I could start rewriting, I had to figure out what would replace the 200 year old firm, the gothic cathedral, the conflicts in Europe. I reintroduced a few twists from the original screenplay and thought up a few new ones to make it all work. And guess what? The story is now tighter than it ever was. The conflict between certain characters more intense. On the whole, the story seems to be even deeper.
Funny how other people can sometimes force you to rethink things and come up with something completely unexpected.
Now it’s just a matter of getting it all done. Write, write, write until the book is the best it can ever be. I will have to finish it one day. Decide, this is it. Now, go out into the world and live your own life.
Posted in novel, personal, thoughts, writing | Tagged black sand, church, inspiration, novel, personal, thoughts, writing
It is a well known misunderstanding that inspiration will come to the artist like a divine light from the heavens, and he will create his best work when sprinkled with the magic stuff most mortals don’t have. Talent, combined with the magic dust is what makes an artist. The untalented masses are merely consumers of the arts and will never fully understand the minds of the creative geniuses.
Nothing could be further from the truth. Sure, sometimes an idea sparks a fire in the writer’s mind and a masterpiece is born. Most of the time though, it’s keeping at it. Having a schedule and not neglecting your work.
Paul McCartney once said that the reason he went straight to the studio to record his first solo album after the Beatles, was to keep going. He was afraid that if he’d take a year off, he wouldn’t be able to get back into it. This state of mind an artist finds himself in when on a roll.
I work a lot and we are rebuilding the attic. I haven’t touched my novel in over two weeks. It’s work and DIY. This morning, I had around two hours to play with, so I fired up Scrivener and got ready to write. I sat there, looking at the words I had written previously. Nothing happened. It was like a boring school assignment. I just couldn’t get into it.
It’s not that this part of the novel is boring. It is a turning point, a confrontation. I have gone through it a few times and I know it’s one of the key moments in the book. The scene wasn’t the problem. I was.
I had allowed myself to float to the surface. I couldn’t dive deep into the mind where the magic is found. I have been thinking only of work and screws that needed to be drilled into wood. I had lost contact with my creative self. I had become one of the supposedly talentless masses.
Talent isn’t a gift. It is a state of mind. I slipped out of it and will have to work on getting myself back into it. That’s all there is to it. Talent and inspiration comes to the open mind and it’s up to us not to close it.