The Zone

There is a space that I sometimes enter when I'm writing. It's not easy to define and even harder to reach. I usually get into it after a day where I simply pushed myself to my limit time and time again.

It starts like this.

It's one of those days that I don't want to write and that I even have reasons not to. I'm genuinely tired and I actually need a break. I feel it's the right thing to stop for a day, step back and just plan things ahead.

All of this makes sense, feels right.

But, as it usually turns out, I'm way behind my initial schedule.

So, I just type and type and type.

But it's not easy. It's a goddamned raging war inside of me. There's a part that just wants to stop. Another so blind that simply just wants to write to keep up with some stupid schedule anyway. And another that couldn't care less and that feels all this is but a pointless exercise anyway.

And, whenever I stop, I simply try to see why I am stopping. And keep on going.

And I do this for a whole day. Which, on friday was twelve hours. From 1pm to 1am.

Doesn't seem like much does it?

But imagine skirting almost every pause, every break. And even when you're having one, you're still thinking about what you have to write, what scene comes next, what is actually going to happen there.

Twelve hours non-stop of sabotaging myself and typing beyond all of that, without wanting to, trying to write something that I won't mind too much revising at some point in the future.

By the time I laid on the floor to sleep my mind was reeling. It didn't want to stop. It was an engine whose chains had broken and it was just rolling with this momentum not likely to stop soon.

Took me a few body focused minutes to actually fall asleep.

But today... oh well... you see today I was KNACKERED. Never mind my head feeling like I'd short-circuited it the previous day: my body felt as if I'd been quietly exercising all day. Nothing hurt terribly - but everything hurt some. All I wanted to do was lie on my back and get back to sleep.

But there was another thing. This kind of eerie certainty that words were just waiting for me to sit down and place the tips of my fingers on the keyboard. Not easy words mind you. But words that were somehow closer to coming out.

That's the thing about days like friday. They're tough to pull through. But, when you do, then it seems your mind is working on a different level. Where the writing is looser. Where it seems that you don't care about what you are writing and yet you see it more clearly and it makes more sense than it usually does. Suddenly you're running downhill somewhat. There are still plenty of obstacles but, on a physical level, there is less effort to put into that. But, at the same time, in terms of awareness, one needs to be more vigilant than ever. It's a tough balance. Tough to reach it, tough to maintain it - well, at least in my case. But it's just that that concentration high has a very distinctive flavour to it. And, when it's seasoned (ie, when it has happened to you enough times for you to be okay when it goes away, without worrying about getting it back) then the writing becomes something closer to what it probably should be most of the time. If not pleasurable, then peaceful and clearer.

And that is so terribly important.

After all, I don't know if you've heard but words are deceiving...

peace.

PS - There's more to be said about The Zone, but I won't say it here and now. Much too tired. It's 3am. I really should be sleeping now...

NaNoWriMo Blues

Yep, it's finally finished. I managed to get my Lands Of Mist wrapped up and then zoomed through the sci-fi/humour one.

I feel tired.

Like last year I didn't get that big rewarding feeling I got after I finished my first ever book (and I now realise, for a long time I thought I'd never say that), but that's okay because I wasn't expecting it anyway. The more and more I do it, sure, the better it feels throughout rather than at the end. The "end" leaves a kind of a void and that void brings me closer not to the writing but to life itself.

You see it's in moments like these when things really start to overlap.

Here's a list:
a friend with depression
a friend's critique of a short story
a fellow meditator going through some complicated stuff in his emotional life
the end of a month writing two books at the same time, still trying to figure out if I'm doing the right thing or not
experiences in meditation
family stuff
house stuff
life stuff
snowing throughout the day, home bound but glad
a beautiful night outside that I almost wish it would last forever though I know better
reading Gene Wolfe's Latro In The Mist (two novels in one)
the unmistakable feeling I've never done anything perfect, that everything has always been quite off the mark

Lots of things for you but, for me they're just one. They're all circling that very same thing that I can't put my finger to and that I'm always feeling will descend like an angel from heaven and sweep me and all the problems away, even while knowing that's a chimera more foolish than Quixote's.
I keep telling myself what I know is right but more often than not it just sound ridiculous, redundant and pointless like everything else.

But I know how this rolls also. My brain has been stuck into the same modus operandi for a month. Now it's time to go back to the real world. There are difficulties of adaptation. And the confines of fantasy have revealed their true limitations or, rather, my very own.
Perhaps one of the toughest things in being a writer is not to go crazy since you have to keep on searching for things deeper and deeper and deeper. That is, if you aim to achieve something with those words.
Which is the most foolish thing of all, to actually take them seriously.
But, if you do so, be advised that you are treading dangerous ground. I feel that there are rewards but there are also dangers. It's no wonder that most writers can be identified, categorised, known. They are mapping themselves out and, quite possibly, losing themselves in the process. Perhaps only a handful of the dedicated ones don't lose themselves. Those are the ones to pay attention to.

For they have found a way.

And they might still lead us there.

It's a beautiful night outside. Snow everywhere. As beautiful as it is dangerous. I want to be doing something else right now instead of writing. I don't know what.

Perhaps outside, walking in the cold and the snow. Hearing that vast silence of a city asleep. A silence that can only be made present with so many lying in their slumber. I love that silence. Just like the way I love the way the night is so much brighter whenever there's snow.
A part of me wants this night to go on forever.
But another knows all too well how long moments last.

Peace.

NaNoWriMo...ing

Well, the great word race has started!
As in previous years I started just after midnight, in the first few hours of the 1st of November.

I'm writing two books this year. One about the "missing" years of Jesus life and another about a killer on a (almost) deserted island. The Lost Years and It's Not Too Dark Here, respectively.

They're both being written in English and, believe it or not, I feel that the two somehow mirror each other...

Not to say that the plot is the same (far from it), but there are definitely lost of elements in common. Human misunderstanding being a major one.

The killer story had been brewing in my mind since last November and I had a chance to plot it out in broad terms. It's just one of those stories where, at eash step of the way, you can just feel it's incredible potential. And I'm hoping that it will be challenging (and sometimes chilling...) one.
A part of me is trying to keep away from gore and extreme violence but, I do think some good measure of it will be needed in order for me to be able to drive the point forward.
I'm just at the beginning of this story. Only 6000 words into it, but it's picking up speed and there's a feeling of something alien present underneath what's happening. This is what I want to aim most of all. The world has its ways and ideas but, sometimes, there are those that are truly outcasts. Because they way they see the world is entirely different from ours. Well, at least on some very fundamental ways it is.

This is why I say that this story is a mirrored image of The Lost Years. They focus on the same themes but from different viewpoints.

In fact The Lost Years is nothing but a continuation of Morto. And, to a certain extent, also a mirror of that story. But that's a tale for another day...

I was a bit afraid of doing two books in one go but since I couldn't decide which and both were so incredibly appealing I decided to take the long route...

For the first time since I started NaNoWriMo (and actually finished at least the first draft of a book) I've never felt so much in control with this whole thing about writing a novel. It feels doable. It feels almost easy. I struggle here and there but I know at every step of the way that any obstacle is not unsurmountable. And I know it not only in my head but also from past experience.

As before, the project that I was more afraid to start - The Lost Years - is the one that's been the easiest to write. I must've put s much energy into it, in trying to work out some of the details and problems I could foresse, that it has been such a pleasant and enjoyable experience to write.

This week for instance, on tuesday, I spent the whole day at home, reading stuff and writing. It was long day, some 12 or 15 hours spent around this book and only 8 or 9000 words to show for it, but it was such a smooth and consistent ride. It felt really good.

Nume (that's the other name I give to It's Not Too Dark Here) has been a different matter. I feel I haven't resolved some of the important parts of the story quite clearly yet and so I'm always giving myself preference to write The Lost Years.
Aside from that Nume is also a more descriptive book than The Lost Years, which is more dialogue based. Something that I'm loving as well!

In both books we have quite few flashbacks showing us a bit better the conditions that brought these characters to the present moment in the story.

So far Nume is a bit behind schedule but The Lost Years is more or less on track. Days at work have been long and busy and at home there has also been quite a few things needing sorting out. So, writing has been minimal for the last two or three days. Which, in NaNoTime is a lot!!
I'm going to have to catch up tomorrow and tonight and next week when I have my friday to sunday days off work.

I won't give you the sinopsis of each of the chapters already written for now, but I will do so at a later stage. I wanted to post a daily update on this but I just don't seem to have the time.

Let's just hope that I keep the focus!

Peace.

A View Of The Mountain - Uprise & One Last Chance

Yesterday I polished up a short script that I wrote on sunday. I'm calling it ONE LAST CHANCE for the time being.
(the title fits but doesn't feel completely right...)
It talks about doing the wrong things for the right reasons. It's a silent story and it's 30 pages long.

I found it really interesting to write this script for various reasons.
First it started simply with me chatting on the phone with a good friend of mine, also here in London, Marco A..
We were talking about writing, techniques, plot, characters, etc (the usual) and I started telling this story simply to illustrate a point. The idea was that we only get the story figured out as soon as we finish writing it. That's when we have everybody on board and we can start really making things click.
So I told this story about a kid and his girlfriend. And then started working backwards and telling him, now we could do this to make it more intense, and then that to heighten the human side and so forth. By the end I was saying: now I really like this story! I should write it!

And so I did.
But what I deliberately set out to do was to eliminate any speech baloons or captions. Initially this was simply to save time in telling the story. But then it became more of a challenge in being able to communicate ideas simply by using images.
I think it worked out pretty well.

And I realised that this is a brilliant and easy way to get stories out in a really condensed form. If I don't focus on the words then there's little or no backstory coming through. Or, rather, the backstory that comes through is precisely what I need to tell the main thing.

As I was writing it I kept hearing the characters wanting to come and play in my mind. To tell me what they felt, what they were experiencing. Little bits of dialogue between them. But I wanted to simply leave the images so that everybody will get to write those bits of dialogue in their heads, fill the gaps with their own experiences and make the story theirs. That's ultimately the goal of storytelling. The story becomes part of the reader rather than the writer.
In this respect I totally agree with Gene Wolfe. The reader is ultimately more important than the writer. If the receptacle isn't there why bother telling these stories?
I mean, I know them already...
(sort of...)

In any case, I felt this was a good exercise to keep in mind. Next time I'm stuck in a sequence with the dialogue, maybe the whole thing can be sorted out just with images.

Actually I did this yesterday in A VIEW OF THE MOUNTAIN.
I finally patched up Empire Growth and inserted it in the main text (after removing the old version, of course!), then a quick read (and page numbering!) on the next scene, inserted the new bit of text that I had written straight after Empire Growth (and more page numbering! Always one of my favourite moments...) and...
stopped.

I'm now on page 60.
And I have to re-write this sequence since it no longer holds true with the rest of the story. it's only 3 or 4 pages long so I should be able to do it still today, before I leave.
Since it has a couple of ideas that I want to keep, i'm going to be lazy about this and just re-write the dialogue...

And then... maybe I'll insert some of the script that I wrote yesterday.
I mean, if a guy starts talking about uprises, I guy should show some of that, correct?
That's what I did yesterday night up until 2am, with me falling asleep over pen and paper. 4 pages long hand with some 10 pages of silent panels.
Some good scenes though.
But they're a bit violent.
Well, not that much but, since this comic hasn't had any violence until now I'm a bit undecided if I should insert them in the script or not... The best solution I've come with so far is to insert a part here and keep the rest for the second half of the story, when the Prince is older and can hear about how things really are... At that point I'll probably add some captions to it.

In any case these next 20 pages should be easier...

Hopefully I'll be on page 80 or so by tomorrow...

And this was what I was talking about with Marco over the phone. you don't really get to know the story well until you've told it. Before that, more often than not, one feels that one doesn't know what one is doing... And this is the feeling that gets you - that gets me at least! - you don't know this, you don't know that... you don't even know that this or that is missing! Then the characters change and you don't know why... we have powerful scenes but disconnected from one another... it's a bloody mess. We don't even know where to start and, soon enough, we start thinking that this story isn't good enough to be told.
And we leave it at that.

But time passes.
And memory quickly forgets yesterdays depression and sense of failure.
And another story creeps in and, for some incredibly beautiful moments, this is going to be it. This is the story. the one you always wanted to tell. The one you will tell and that will turn heads and make them nod and smile and know.
But, as soon as you start writing, the question marks drip also into the text alongside the rest of the words.
There is only one solution:
to write.

I know that, as soon as I reach the end of A VIEW OF THE MOUNTAIN I'll have all the elements to actually clearly understand what this story is about.
I mean, I know the main things, of course, but there are subtler things, details, things that can tighten the story so much more (like Ardul's love of books or somebody else's obsession with war, etc) that only then will I be ready to truly tell it. That's when the structure starts to make some sense.
And it's s strange feeling because, if I think of it, right now, the structure is pretty much arbitratry (with a strong chronological component, though). It doesn't feel right. But, as soon as I go through the motions and tell every bit of this story... then it will start feeling as the best structure possible - and I'll know which bits are out of place.
Now, this is a perfectly alien feeling to me.
So, the main thing is to trust the story and to trust yourself.
Don't worry if you're writing too much. If new scenes keep being added. If you don't know where it's leading you. If everything seems so messy right now.
I get that most of the times.
It's easy getting lost when you have to find your way and the only things you got are a battered old compass that you don't even know if it works properly and a vague sense of direction.
The story needs that space to grow and to find itself.
So tell yourself you trust yourself and, most of all, you trust the story.
I do it all the time.
(it works most times.... other times I just need to be patient until the story is ready to come out...)
I just need to remember that.
And be patient and persevere.

And now I'm going to shut up here and pry my ears open somewhere else...

Probably somewhere with a view over a mountain...

peace.

Comics Script - Shifting Scenes

Well, what has happened in the last week or so?
looking to my little diary I can see that most of the time has been spent around THE SHIFT (and it sure feels like it). Typing some of the scenes that were handwritten, dabbling quite a bit with it's structure and, especially, revising the whole thing.
I always find it fascinating how things come into being. Even if I've been there since the onset. Perhaps, especially if I've been there since the onset.

In a way there's a part of me that never believes that it can be done. Another that knows that it can. And somewhere in there there's another bit of me that simply does it. The thing I always have to keep reminding myself is that I just need to keep adding stuff. The Joycean technique. Don't bother erasing. Just add more. Put it into perspective. if you play enough with something it will become meaningful. It will. Trust me on this. And, mainly, trust the story. That's probably the biggest lesson I've learned so far.

The story is always right.

Writers often aren't.

We want to make things pretty or nice, or sad and horrible, but the story truly has a life of its own. And it wants to be heard as clearly as possible. The characters want to be listened to. Not told what to say.
So that's what I've been trying to do: learn how to listen to stories before I go out and tell them. THE SHIFT was a bit like that. In actual fact, most of the stories that I have been writing of late, have had that characteristic. There's a couple of ideas to them but I really never know where they're going to get to that place. Sometimes they seem too daft to ever become something worthwhile reading. And then I get surprised. Because they do. So, the moral is, learn to trust your stories. Let them do the telling. Not you. It's less work if you're not in the way.

With THE SHIFT I was having a few problems with the structure and some of the scenes. When it's something visual that I'm having trouble in writing I just try to visualize myself in the scene and merely describe what I'm seeing the way I'm seeing. If it's not right, then the second or third time I'm reviewing the script, a better visual device will come through and I'll alter whatever's necessary.
If it's a character that I'm having trouble with, again a kind of visualization is needed. But it's more like going into an internal listening mode just for that character. I try to shut all other input and merely listen. Eventually they start chatting. Characters can also be shy in the beginning. Don't forget that. But, as time passes, and they get to know you, communication will become much easier.
If it's the plot, then the case is a bit different. Here I have multiple techniques. This is perhaps because this is still the most challenging part for me. But also one of the most rewarding. Sometimes I try to sit and merely watch the whole story (or, at least, bits of it) play in my wide screen brain. Not always does this work. So I sometimes try the rational approach. What is the story about? What does it need to become more palpable? What is it lacking in terms of scenes, structure, etc to give it more cohesion? Or the emotional approach. How does the story feel so far? Am I engaged with it? In what sense and why? What do I think or feel about it when I'm reading? What fills me or drains me when going through the script?

With THE SHIFT it was a bit of all of this but never any clear answers. And you know why? Because I was lacking some scenes. That was why. But I didn't know it then. But feeling that structure wasn't working as well as I wanted, as I knew it could feel, I was somehow doubting the story, doubting what I was helping create.
At some point I decided to make a list with all the different scenes. Then I made another list organising everything chronologically. Then I made another list with the opening and ending scenes and started working my way towards the centre of the story. Then I made another list in which I divided the whole thing in three acts, three major zones of influence (to know, from Shahidah's rescue up to her first meeting with American soldiers, Shahidah's life in the factory up to her death and Shahidah's experiences whilst trapped underneath the remains of her house), ordering them in chronological order. I started realising that I had some problems with time frames and locations. So I then had to do some research and more clearly organize the story. But, by doing this, I started thinking that I needed to add a couple more scenes. To round up the story more.

I was on 100 comics pages by then.

And then, when I was reading a bit more on Fallujah and Baghdad I wrote something like "If I were to expand this story a little bit more I would add this scene and that scene and..." And suddenly the "eventual scenes" were so visual and clear that about the second or third time I thought about them I knew they had to be in the story. So I wrote them down. I added them. And Lo and Behold! The whole structure actually benefited from them. The script actually feels rounded and (to me at least) meaningful.

The big test obviously, is other people reading it and enjoy it and feel affected in a positive way by it, obviously...

Sunday was this day. I worked on the structure and revise it for most of the day. This is what happens when I stay home and actually manage to focus. I move between my computer and my bed and add stuff and revise all a bit at the same time. I've realised that it's very rare that I can stay focussed on one thing for too long, so I simply try to shift between various themes within the same story. So, I shift between revising the script and revising the stucture and typing up alterations or new scenes. This way I don't get tired of things as quickly.
And if I do get tired I simply pick up my guitar, plug it in and play for half an hour or so. I completely change the inner setting. From words to sounds. The great thing is that the thing you train the most when playing is hearing. You have to listen to what's coming out so, in a way, it's also closely related to writing. What I have found is that the two processes enhance one another. I play better when I'm writing and I write better if I play.

It's all meditation, really...

In any case, sunday was also very full of ideas. I wrote a couple of new things for THE IMMORTALISTS and ALIENATION, had an idea for a BIOGRAPHY and for another series (don't ask me what it's about 'cause I can't remember...) called BLACK MARK.

Monday was a day that I thought was going spent entirely indoors, had to go and deal with lots of paperwork instead (and buy a new pair of cycling gloves - fundamental goods in winter!), felt it wasn't going to be that great for the writing and, in actual fact turned out pretty well. THE SHIFT kept me company and wrote some more for ALIENATION.

Tuesday I went to work but still kept working on THE SHIFT.

(I was going to finish it goddammit!)

Wednesday - home at last! - PC heaven!
Guess which script I worked on?! You're correct! I spent like 10 hours solid on that day on it. Wednesday and sunday were the crucial days to really tip this boat up.

Then yesterday I finally managed to add the last couple of scenes, redo the structure and feel that the thing is finished.
In actual fact, only after I posted yesterday and got home, did I realise that I had forgotten to erase some stuff of the script. There were some bits of monologue that I felt weren't working so well and I decided to redo the scenes. I remembered to type them down but then forgot to edit the old ones...
Guess I'll have to do it today.
And print out the whole thing again.

Actually yesterday, when I was tearing the two older versions of this script, I felt for the first time that getting rid of all that paper wasn't fun anymore. I remember the first few times that I started tearing the pages into bits - to give room for the completed draft - it felt good. There was some accomplishment in that. Now, after 30 seconds of doing it I was thinking for the first time in my life that buying a paper shredder was a good idea...

Anyway. Amidst it all I still wrote (can't remember the day 'cause I forgot to write it down on my diary... actually, I remembered that I had written an email about it... wednesday the 30th of september) a draft for the TEATRO DO FRIO story. It's about a girl that goes on a coach to spend her holidays with her grandparents. The story is quite funny and charming and I'm planning on keeping all that and add a bit of fantasy to it. A kind of fable feel to it. I think it can work quite. Only 8 comics pages. Which I still have to know if it can be done. 'Cause I think they were expecting me to write an illustrated short story... only 6 pages long...

We'll see...

Peace.