Empire Growth - A View Of The Mountain

Been doing panels for a scene I was working on yesterday.

Sometimes you spend quite a lot of time trying to figure out how you're to do this in order to fit that when it's just easier to re-do the whole thing rather than trying to use bits and pieces.

That's what I'm doing now. Instead of cutting and pasting I just created something new visually that I'm hoping will reflect in part what the script is about.

I don't even remember where the original scene takes place, but this one is going to be inside the throne room.
The whole debate (and ongoing theme during the comic) rotates around the lasting implications of war in a feudalized society (of which we are still an example - though in disguised form).
The objective is to establish some tension between some characters and introduce some themes that will be explored with more detail further on...
hinting at stuff amid the verbal storm...

I'm still on page 43 of the script, though... but it's cool. I've re-written this whole scene and I think it's flowing much better than before.

Now I just need to figure out if the next ones fit well into the story...

peace.

More Views For A Mountain

Well, this script is finally taking form!

During the last few days I've been shuffling and re-shuffling it in my head and it's starting to look like something I'd like to read!

I'm on page 43 (out of 250!) of this first (readable) draft.

I'm hoping today I'll be able to re-write a scene in which some of the councillors argue amongst themselves (the King just watches for most of the time) about the pros and cons of their decision making, in trying to set out possible paths for the kingdom.

This is going to be a weird (but hopefully pleasant!) mix between fable and social design.
(joana b., you're going to have to read this one...)
It's really interesting to see how certain economical and social viewpoints shape the interaction between countries and, obviously, between the ruling elite and the people.
I'm not aiming at doing a graphic dissertation on the subject but I am aiming at raising awareness to a few ideas that I feel are still very much relevant today and, obviously, tying it all with spirituality.

Peace!

More View For The Mountain

Two and a half weeks gone past in a flash.
Went to portugal for 7 days and, thus, the writing more or less stopped.

Going back to my diary I can see that I worked a bit on RIGOR MORTIS and LAST RITES before I went but also in various other things. Mainly transferring the ideas I had in Myanmar from longhand to word files...

Even before I went I managed to do that analogue copy paste thing and assembled all the files and began mixing things a bit but it soon became too convoluted for me to pursue it. So what I did was make some sort of little cards with the name of the file, page, scene, characters and brief synopsis of content and then shuffled it all around on the wall.

Today I manage to do all the copy pasting on a word file that is now 205 pages long. The comic itself is probably closer to 250... seems way too long but it may well work this way. I'm not interested in making it smaller just for the sake of it. I suppose this is one of the benefices of non comissioned work. I can just do whatever the heck I please!

But I've been very good with A VIEW OF THE MOUNTAIN. I've been working on it everyday and it hasn't left my mind a day since I came back from Myanmar.

I also finished polishing up the second draft for LAND OF FOG. Mainly cosmetics in relation to the first (spelling, phrase construction, you know...) and two new chapters. I think they round the story a bit more.

And now I only have to figure out what I'm going to do with all the other ideas that I had in Burma... I don't really feel like doing a sequel. But perhaps a few short stories. Or a long short story would be in order.

(not again!!!)

I've been reading a few of Gene Wolfe's amazing short stories and I'm trying attain a greater depth in my storytelling. The man is quite clearly a god of writing and he teaches his mastery at every phrase, at each page and word. There is much I still need to learn. Everything flows so well with him. There never seems to be any rush to get anywhere and, yet, the story is always there. It's always present, taking care of the reader.
I'd like to be able to write like this.

But I'll continue writing even if I don't!

Today I'm hoping I'll start patching the huge scenes quilt that I have managed to weave today. There are bits missing and I want simply to start at the beginning and start filling the gaps. Missing panels and missing links between certain scenes.
After that I'm going to go through my extensive list of notes and tick all the "objectives" for this story. All the themes/subjects that I wanted to cover.
Then I think I'll print it out and read it all over again, make whatever changes I feel necessary and, finally, deem it a first draft!

(I'm very curious about how many pages the comic will actually have... the is the biggest story I've attempted to write yet!)

peace.

Writing A Retreat Away

Even though my daily, early morning, meditation practice hasn't been the best lately, I have been complying to the type-up-your-retreat-stuff-quickly-so-that-you-can-move-to-do-other-stuff everyday.

But I already have 8 LIFE INSIDE MIND short comics (usually one or two pages long), 9 MINDFUL vs MINDLESS cartoon strips (four panels each, typically) and added some more stuff to LAND OF FOG, LOVE RITES, RIGOR MORTIS and LAST RITES among other things.

I'm typing everything up. Even the things I now feel don't work as well as when I felt them inside of me there and then. And I'm then creating the panel descriptions where needed. This is actually why it has taken me so long with some of the things. Most times, when I'm writing comics scripts, I simply focus on the dialogue with the odd note to the setting here and there. From all the stuff that I wrote in Myanmar, most is simply dialogue with a brief description of the general idea behind it - if needed.

Today I have also been planning the next few sessions for the Graphic Novels Reading Group and this idea I had about giving out wacky awards to our favourite comics creators.

If you're interested in finding out more about the group this is the place to go:

http://community.livejournal.com/lambeth_comics/

Tomorrow and friday I'm off so my plan is to type up and finish as much of the stuff that I did in Myanmar as possible and make a start on A VIEW OF THE MOUNTAIN. I have three print outs that I need to stitch together and then chop up and then combine... it's going to be a good arts and crafts day...

Apart from this another brief revision of LAND OF FOG seems to be in order. Maybe I'll do this before I leave today... after all it's only the last three chapters that I really need to look into...

peace.

Back From Old Burma

Yes, well, all things must change and thus, here I am, finding myself in a strangely familiar situation.

The myanmar meditation retreat was excellent. As always. Lots of ups and downs and remembering things I had forgotten, re-learning things that I still remembered and finding new things altogether.
So much so that a part of me wants to type up the journey and publish it online.
Perhaps even adding stuff from my previous retreat.
But I must be realistic and say - not for now! It's more important that I actually focus on that book about it rather than in creating more work. The important thing is the content and that book really has all the key things. My hope is that it will reflect not only my experiences - only important because they serve as examples for the practice - but also the deep relevance of the practice.
You'll be hearing about it soon...

Obviously, as I meditated I had a bunch of ideas...
Some of these are cartoons about the practice (which I have called Mindfull Versus Mindless) and are quite comical.
But some of the other stuff contains not only ideas for stories that I had already been working on but also a couple of new things. A series of one page comics called Life Inside Mind and yet another, more lenghtier series called either Rigor Mortis or Shunted Light... I still haven't got my head around it.

In any case I think I have learned a few valuable lessons this time. Part of me really wants to share them but I don't know if this is really the space. What I will do is write an email, both in english and in portuguese and send that out to some friends.
Maybe I'll post it here.
Maybe.

I had some new ideas for LAND OF FOG and so, now the book has two more chapters.
(3 or 4 pages more)
And there are also a couple of ideas for a couple of short stories that take place after the events in LAND OF FOG.
And they end up tying in with another book I started writing last year but that won't see the light of day anytime soon. This is probably the conceptually most daring thing I've ever considered doing and I want to be more mature in order to make it all that I think it can be. A deep exercise in creativity. I think it will write itself through the upcoming years.

So. I've been polishing a new draft for LAND OF FOG but also some letters that I wrote to friends while away. Also a series of comedy sketches in portuguese... and, of course, RIGOR MORTIS that simply just doesn't get out of my head. I'd like it to be a 60 or 70 page comic but I feel that the potential is really for an ongoing series. At the same time I think doing a series is just milking it a bit. It needs to be dense and powerdul. Actually it could also work as a feature film. Quite well I would say. The only problem is the ending. For the time being it's an open ending. There's really no punchline. Or, the punchline is, things are as they are: we merely choose when faced with them. And the journey is ongoing.

Things to do for the next few days;
Get back on track with A VIEW OF THE MOUNTAIN, finish LAND OF FOG and write up a first draft for MS, a children's book.
And a bit more on RIGOR MORTIS.
And finish those comedy sketches...

Hope you are all well!
peace

LAND OF FOG - chapter one

Sorry. I don't have time to edit this a bit and reformat it for this blog...
I'll do it when i get back though!

This story is 56 750 words. About 92 word doc pages.

Hope you like it!
peace

LAND OF FOG

DAY ONE
AFTERNOON
THE SUN OPENS
It was a sunny day. A gloriously sunny day. One of those where you know you could see till the ends of the Earth if it were at least flat and kept easy on the mountains. On the crest of the hill facing the sea, I could see from miles around. The sharpness of light and form searing silently into my brain as I breathed in the landscape, making it coalesce inside my mind.
The whole of the bay to the south shimmered in the sun like a mirror waiting for that final, god like polishing. I was standing on one of the green hills overlooking not only the bay but also a small village, tucked away to one corner, below and away of me, as if afraid of both the steep rocky hills ahead and the sea below with its continuous false promise of infinity.
I breathed the fresh sea breeze one more time. I grabbed my back pack and my old battered tent and made my way down to the small village. I made my way via a small path that ran along the hill and that I presumed would take me down at some point. I felt tired and I needed a good rest badly. So, even without knowing anything whatsoever about this town (I had stumbled into it by chance, after a ride that I’d hitched that hadn’t gone well and more than 5 miles walk already on my back). Seeing something like this. A quiet town by the ocean was more or less equated as bliss in my current disposition. Too many nights on the road, camping here and there – wherever I pleased really. I needed a shave, a bath, a warm meal and the deep ingrained knowledge that a real bed could last for more than a thought.
I kept going downhill amidst the oddly bent trees and scattered bushes. Did anyone ever use this route?
I entered the town through, I assumed, its northern side. From above the village had seemed like a well kept secret by the coast but now… now I walked through empty streets with more ruins than buildings - if I didn’t know better I would’ve said that the village had been abandoned at the height of the tourist season. Was I really going to find a pension or hotel or whatever it was this place had? Or merely the place where it once had been? Unwittingly I started preparing myself for another night inside my tent.
At least the sights were interesting. Most of the buildings were very old and decayed. The gums of time really showed here. Eating away the shell but keeping the core relatively intact.
Was there a single house where somebody actually lived? I was beginning to doubt it. It was either ruined sites or traces of ruined sites. The streets had no names whatsoever. There were no plaques. This was a ghost town for sure. But how could it be? It was so close to the sea. It was a beautiful beach bathed by a bay at least 5 miles in diameter. It was sunny and warm. Well, at least this time of year it was.
How could it be deserted? If not for anything else, some of those who’d wander here by accident would surely stay. I know I would.
The obvious conclusion was therefore: there must be someone. I just needed to find out where.
I really wanted a shower. A real one and not just one on the sea.
That’s what I’ve been having for the past week.
And, salt water and soap, if you don’t know, don’t really mix.
Try and make some decent foam with that.
And even if you dry yourself well, well, some of the salt still stays.
And it itches.
Especially after a week. The skin is permanently dry. And itchy.
I thought I’d get used to it.
I thought wrong.
But, since I was here, I decided to look around as best as I could. I mean if necessary I could always turn back and try to hitch a ride out of here.
Or camp out.

I pushed those thoughts away and continued to peer at the damaged structures all around me. Most were stone masonry. Most that still stood at any rate. One could almost see – or at least feel – the forces that had destroyed them. Each seemed to hold a unique story of destruction. All looked old. At least more than one hundred years old.
Here the remnants of what must’ve been a great stone farm house eaten by a great fire. There a meadow surrounded by a broken down wall, directing my eyes away from the village. Here a house of the late Italian Renaissance period. It was missing its roof and it was filled with sand and sea shells. As if it had spent years submerged and then miraculously brought back. Here remnants of small stone houses clustered together in a sort of circular shape. A smaller village within the village, probably pre-dating it. Here what looked like a small amphitheatre with a few stubs of roman pillars scattered around it. Here the only house I’d seen so far not half a century old. It was cracked in two, as if some strange earthquake had crossed underneath it or some giant hands had tear it apart like a loaf of bread. As if it had cracked after taking some serious beating from the weather.
And then the strangest ruin of all. I had to stare at it for a while to actually believe what I was seeing was real.
In front of me, and close to the steep stony crag I’d crossed minutes ago – I realised know that I’d been walking in a semi-circle without knowing it – was a house crushed by a gigantic stone ball. The wind clearly swirled around it for dust cavorted around the ruins, making it look as if the destruction had just happened moments ago, were it not for the weeds and ivies growing here and there.
Fucking sight, right?
I turned around and saw a man in his late thirties coming towards me, his blond hair waving in the wind but his eyes glued to the ruins.
Uh… yeah, I said.
Terry.
Hi. I said, forgetting to tell him my name. He paused beside me. Clearly more interested in what stood in front of us than in me.
Nobody knows what happened. He looked at me and smiled. Before you ask. Because that’s what always happens. People always ask how come that huge, almost perfectly spherical boulder came to crush this house? He paused.
And I always say that most people think it simply fell from the cliff face. But that’s impossible, of course. You’d have to carve it first. And then throw it for about 200 metres to get it where it is now. He paused again.
And, I don’t know about you, but I don’t know anything that could do that. Anything, that is, but the tide. He winked, grinning.
Yeah. Right, I said.
Come, he said, tapping me on the shoulder, as if nudging me awake, You must be looking for a place to stay, right?
Yeah, in actual fact I am.
I’ll take you to Anne Marie’s. It’s the only place in here where you can find a spare room to bunk for the night. And then, noticing what I was carrying, And it’s not expensive either.
Thanks. That was precisely what I was looking for. I smiled. Finally, some good news!
And you’ll love her cooking. Everybody does. He grabbed my tent that I had apparently dropped on the ground and started moving away from me.
It sure looks like you need a shower, he said. Been on the road for long?
I adjusted my rucksack on my back and hasted to follow him.
Does it show that bad?
The road always shows for those that keep away from it. He kept moving without bothering to wait for me. He walked fast. But so did I.
I can’t really thank you enough for this. I was starting to think this was a ghost town, I said, making conversation.
Well you weren’t too off the mark on that one. Only a few of us live here. It’s mostly ruins and silence. And the sea, of course. And the fog.
Why is that? This looks such a beautiful place.
We got a lot of fog around these parts. He stopped so abruptly that I almost bumped into him. He looked at me with eerie intensity. A lot. And started moving almost as abruptly as when he had stopped.
We walked for a while without talking. I kept gazing left and right, not only trying to see where the heck I was going but also what other surprises the ruins held. We passed by a street where all the houses on one side seemed devoured by vegetation. Trees sprouted from windows and doors and roofs. Ivy covered most of the walls. And yet, on the other side of the road, there were old manor houses side by side with the walls crumbling and no traces of vegetation whatsoever.
What happened here? I asked. He didn’t turn.
Sea breeze.
We continued to walk through the small village without exchanging unnecessary words anymore. I was sure that at the hotel, inn, whatever it was, I could always ask for more information about the village.
Even seeing a house toppled on its side and yet another whose outer walls had almost perfectly collapsed in four opposite directions, I kept my silence.
Finally we arrived to what looked like a small inn with a sign saying Bed & Break. The rest was missing.
He dropped my tent on the ground.
There you go. You’re here. Go inside and ask for Anne Marie. She’s the owner. If she isn’t inside it’s probably because she went out to Mavis to get some supplies or the post. And he began to walk away.
Uh. Thanks, I said, raising my voice slightly. Would you like a drink or something? I said, but he seemed not to have listened to my words and was simply walking away.
O-kay, I muttered. At least I’m here. Let’s get a room now and worry about whatever just happened later.

Off To Meditatabout

The New Year has arrived.
I don't know what all of you have been up to but let me tell you that I spent most of my time during the holidays either playing Nintendo Wii with my little cousins or sleeping or seeing films or (yes, even a bit of that) writing.

So, how are things looking writs wise?

Well, I'm about to complete the first draft of my fourth book called LAND OF FOG.

(just give me an hour or so and you'll have another post in here with the first chapter)

And I managed to more or less type up everything with A VIEW OF THE MOUNTAIN.

But...
(the catch is...)
Tomorrow I'm off to Myanmar for a meditation retreat at Panditarama Forest Monastery!

http://www.saddhamma.org/index.html

Hopefully this will clear my head a bit more!

I'll be back in early february to continue with the writings. So, apologies if you try to get in touch with me in the meantime and I don't reply: I'll be without internet connection for a month.
And no mobiles either.
Or letters.
Thus giving plenty of room for contemplation.

Hope you all had a lovely holiday and that you are well and happy!
Always!

peace