a change in direction

I have spent much of the last several weeks writing poetry.  Setting up a pipeline of pieces for e-publication through the rest of the year.  It followed a stretch of time reading over my old blogposts searching for a particular piece of writing (that I eventually found) but discovering how much of the concepts explored in the writing in those postings lent themselves to a poetic form.  So convert I did.

I may write more through the course of the year, after all I have at least one mentee muse who keeps on doing and saying things that inspire ideas for pieces with such fervour, they are (inadvertently) the gift that gives unrelenting. I suspect half of that creative inspiration is because I am really struggling to communicate across a generational difference. But that's a story for another day.

What I wanted to canvass today was how much that poetry writing has cleared my head of a few cobwebs. So much so I am reworking the story board for the Peithosian Legacy manuscript I am currently writing and started working my way though the first third already written and rewriting. It's a change in direction. Decided to shift to a more erratic form of narrative to better reflect the discombobulation of all the characters after a cataclysmic event at the start of the third and final part of the series. After many months of procrastination and writers block, I finally figured that this change of approach made more sense given the circumstance. The early chapters covering the event itself are about as structured as it should be - after that things should unravel.  The main unknown is how many years (in the narrative) does it take to get back to some semblance of normal.  

The story-board has this taking about 15 years.  I workshopped dystopian societies with a few colleagues last year to test this timing and most believed it would take about 15-20 years and things would never be the same.  If all the 'survivors' of such a catastrophic event are difficult people, then likely it would take longer.  Ironically, the pandemic over the last few years highlighted just how 'closed-off' countries (even states within countries) could be and this fiefdom (almost medieval in response) approach seemed far too common to ignore. A measure of how humanity responds to certain threats.  Things can spiral pretty quickly downwards and take a long time to recover.

Fodder for the rewrite.

In the meantime, here's my favourite of the three pieces I've had published in the this month. It's called the craft of flirting, based on a blogpost I wrote a dozen years ago.

A hell of a lot of confusion
arises between bonding and romance.

(the ugly) one extreme low tide. 
Sledgehammer teasers - 
wearing revealing clothing,
hands firmly touching or stroking an arm, 
hard core fluttering of eyelids, 
hand flicking of couture hair far too often, 
laughing excessively at another’s bad humour,
using flirting to feel better about themselves. 
Women (and men) with low self-esteem, 
in need of the attention of others
to somehow give meaning to their lives.

(the sad) non-engagement shunners. 
Steadfastly avoiding making small talk 
with any person that may misconstrue
statements for anything 
other than small talk.
Steering clear of spring seabirds
who misinterpret 
the grains of sand attention
for desire.

(the good) contrasting high watermark. 
European masters focus instead
on coaxing new social circle others
to feel involved and comfortable.
Pillow soft icebreaking technique,
designed to relax
and let those unfamiliar
slip out of their shells
and build their confidence.

There should never be any question 
or ambiguity
about wanton lust and motive.
Endgame overt signalling infinitely better. 
Never covert.
Subtlety is wasted
on the inexperienced.

A conversation can be just a conversation.

difficult choices

I have sat down three Sundays now into the new year and have written no more than two paragraphs in the current manuscript drafting - about a third of the way into the story for the third and final part of the Peitho series - the Peithosian Legacy. 

One driver of the writer's block has been a demanding day job - the last few years have drained both my time and energy to focus and this doesn't look like subsiding any time soon this year.  But another driver has been the self-doubt over whether my inner-voice centric narrative will actually work for this third and final part of the story.  I've moved from six to three POV characters as the drafting has progressed (two are characters in their late teens), yet even that feels like it isn't working.  It probably doesn't help that the fiction I have been reading, which I cannot help but measure myself against - a mixture of contemporary and speculative genre offerings - just reminds me that my weakest skill as a writer is drafting realistic dialogue.  Even my youngest characters talk far too much as if they could teach English rather than in everyday vernacular.  There simply are not enough Gen-Z friends in my life for me to hear normal chatter of these types of youngsters and no amount of viewing of teen movies will give me a perfect sense of that language. (Although I do think I'm capturing well the heightened anxiety of this group as a prevailing feature of this generation.)

I am starting to wonder if I should just start again on the third part but take a completely different take on the way to present the story. Inspired by the approach in recently read Sea of Tranquillity by Emily St John Mantel. Very non-traditional structure within the parts of the narrative. It was a much easier read than my intense earlier parts to the Peitho series.  And it was speculative and exploring philosophical themes, which I do in spades, so I was able to see what "really good" writing looks like.

But I've also gone several months without much drafting of the third part of the Peitho story, so , also starting to wonder if I should just park it indefinitely and start a new project.  I had a similar stall when I was writing the Panopticon series. There were four parts in that story, although I have only written three. The fourth - the Helotry - has a story board prepared but I never started drafting it. At the time, when it came to start, I was tired of "living and breathing" the family in that series and I needed a break from them. It is possible to grow tired of characters and narratives.  I will one day return to finish that story, just not any time soon.

The third wildcard in my contemplation on what to do is an urge to return to writing in the contemporary fiction genre for a breather from dystopian speculative fiction (which the Peitho series certainly is). Conversations with one of my mentees over the last few months has taken my mind to the idea of a story about two characters generations apart and all the challenges a friendship across that divide brings. I have already been inspired enough by our conversations to have written three poems and the start of two short stories so I feel there may be a long-form novel somewhere in the mix. This is how I have been spending my Sunday writing time instead of working on the third part of the Peitho series.

And there is the still to be finished play - the Manor - which has been in my writing goals for the year at the start of the year for the last four years.

Definitely struggling with some difficult choices. Should probably go for a walk to clear my head.

For the record, the third poem (the other two appear in recent blog posts) is called my wish for my friend and is reproduced below. It's already getting a lot of praise in the iPoetry epublication on the Medium website (for which I am a contributing writer).  Have already decided my next poetry compilation will be based on the theme of friendships so yet another idea to add to the ones above on choices for 2023 writing focus.

My friend telegraphs
their near life experience trajectory
of getting bogged down
with partner and kids and mortgage.
The ultimate yardstick
of expectations
gone awry.
It fuels a need
neither wrong nor right
to illuminate my wish for my friend.

Wanting them 
to meet someone
in the future
who will spark
such a raging wildfire
in their aching flesh and bones
that any semblance
of set paths
burns away.
So inspired
by the music
in its flames
that bonding will not be a burden
but rather a euphoric adventure
brimming with laughter and love.

A measure of hope
for me
is to see my friend
experience such joy.

Real Polar Opposites

An earlier part, Part 1 — Polar Opposites published December 2022 — covers a pair of friends who both want to make a difference. This part, Part 2, covers a different pair who cannot agree on anything. I have been playing around with lyrics on the concept of polar opposites (see last post) - this time choosing a different antagonist for contrast. This second version was inspired by a person I encountered when hiking in Patagonia in South America a few years ago. Highlighting how creatively a single idea can generate a range of work and a common thread of language can be used to present very different perspectives. Compare to the previous version to see that change.

 
Summers vs Winters

She was reminded when they first met hiking in Patagonia

of how summers back home in Australia swelted hotter every year.

He recalled the peaks of surrounding snow in his north American base

paired with blistering blizzards in winter storms had always been harsh.

Birds vs Insects

On their second agreed encounter joining to walk the Yukon trail

she noticed dwindling birdlife since her last carbon-neutral flight there.

He obliviously complained about the plethora of insects barely noticing

there were fewer natural predators to keep the plague at bay.

Temperance vs Greed

On their third discourse meandering Milford Sound and nearby glaciers

she lamented standing on melting ice that groundswell action was needed.

He laughed at her naivety saying a “tragedy” of the commons — a “problem”

would never be solved as long as individual incentives drove profit.

Science vs Faith

On their fourth jaunt to wander Camino de Santiago the Way of St James

she asked why he put faith in propaganda with firestorms raging wild.

He responded with a question asking why she put her trust in science

arguing extreme weather constancy in history and civilisations lost before.

Darkness vs Light

As they walked to soak in their dwindling breath taking surroundings

Both related to the ups and downs of the planet around them

and the humanity under their skin and flowing through their veins

clutching at gratitude to fuel some semblance of optimism.

What if vs What is

Being poles apart only she accepted the disintegrating world needed repair

before it was too late and she longed to make a difference.

He saw no value in striving for what could be for future generations

preferring to ground himself selfishly in the here and now.