Oh Those Titles, or Lack Thereof
Sep. 14th, 2012 09:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
handful_ofdustWith typical idiocy, I find I managed to short myself substantially on the Experimental Film deadline--though by God, I was absolutely ready and willing to try and meet it! But no, it's actually September, 2013. A lot more doable.
At any rate: Spent the bulk of today inputting notes, to the tune of 1,777 words added, and managed to break the back of my narrative structure, which is...difficult, and nested, but I think is going to be all the more fun to play with as a result. Essentially, I'm writing it as a non-fiction account that slides back and forth between third person omniscient ("narrator/author voice") and duelling blocks of testimonial interview that you can play off against each other, as in Nicholas Pileggi's Wiseguy or Jean Stein's Edie: American Girl. (It was also used to great effect in a "biography" of SoCal Punk I once read but can't recall the title of, as well as that recent Warren Zevon bio.)
I think I've found one of the opening quotes, too: “I need a world filled with wonder, with awe, with awful things. I couldn’t exist in a world devoid of marvels, even if the marvels are terrible marvels. Even if they frighten me to consider them.” —Caitlin R. Kiernan.
This is a good quote to frame most things I write with, IMNSHO, but definitely this particular project. Without giving too much away, Experimental Film is a story that's about as far removed from the Hexslinger-'verse as is humanly possible. It exists as an outgrowth of my “Toronto Dark” world, the one many of my short stories are set in, contemporary and urban and stand-alone. On the one hand, there's an M.R. Jamesian ghost story/mystery whose roots date back to the end of the 19th century and the beginning of cinema; on the other, there's a character who's not quite me, other characters who aren't quite various figures from the Toronto experimental film scene, and a lot of the stuff about Canadian film history I used to inflict on my students.
So yes, it's stuff I've touched on, most recently in the 2010 Shirley Jackson Award-nominated novelette Steve and I wrote together (“each thing I show you is a piece of my death”), but since I've never had to spin it out for 80,000 to 100,000 words before, it's quite fairly terrifying to contemplate. But energizing. And God knows, I really needed a pants-kick on this on...on my whole schedule, generally. I'm cautiously optimistic.
Otherwise: Took Cal to his second post-grad psych assessment at Surrey Place, which was interesting; he treated it as a total joke for the first ten minutes, probably out of anxiety, until I eventually "had" to push him hard enough he had a minor melt-down and cried, at which point he began to perform at the level I know he's capable of. I was happy to reinforce all his good work with clapping and praise and prizes (one Sun Chip for every correct answer, but only the real ones). Oh, we still had the occasional bout of oppositional behaviour and pranking here and there, like when he'd deliberately choose anything except the thing he knew was right, but the rest was kind of perfect, until he ran out of steam and hit a bunch of stuff he just didn't know the answer to. Still, we had interesting conversations about guessing vs. just saying "I don't know", and how both were allowable.
I'm also about halfway through my period, generally feeling like I've been kicked in the crotch, and prone to moments where I simply cannot take certain behaviours anymore. Steve is stepping in, though. I appreciate that.
Okay, that's the news of the day. Back to...chores and then resting, frankly. I did well today.;)
At any rate: Spent the bulk of today inputting notes, to the tune of 1,777 words added, and managed to break the back of my narrative structure, which is...difficult, and nested, but I think is going to be all the more fun to play with as a result. Essentially, I'm writing it as a non-fiction account that slides back and forth between third person omniscient ("narrator/author voice") and duelling blocks of testimonial interview that you can play off against each other, as in Nicholas Pileggi's Wiseguy or Jean Stein's Edie: American Girl. (It was also used to great effect in a "biography" of SoCal Punk I once read but can't recall the title of, as well as that recent Warren Zevon bio.)
I think I've found one of the opening quotes, too: “I need a world filled with wonder, with awe, with awful things. I couldn’t exist in a world devoid of marvels, even if the marvels are terrible marvels. Even if they frighten me to consider them.” —Caitlin R. Kiernan.
This is a good quote to frame most things I write with, IMNSHO, but definitely this particular project. Without giving too much away, Experimental Film is a story that's about as far removed from the Hexslinger-'verse as is humanly possible. It exists as an outgrowth of my “Toronto Dark” world, the one many of my short stories are set in, contemporary and urban and stand-alone. On the one hand, there's an M.R. Jamesian ghost story/mystery whose roots date back to the end of the 19th century and the beginning of cinema; on the other, there's a character who's not quite me, other characters who aren't quite various figures from the Toronto experimental film scene, and a lot of the stuff about Canadian film history I used to inflict on my students.
So yes, it's stuff I've touched on, most recently in the 2010 Shirley Jackson Award-nominated novelette Steve and I wrote together (“each thing I show you is a piece of my death”), but since I've never had to spin it out for 80,000 to 100,000 words before, it's quite fairly terrifying to contemplate. But energizing. And God knows, I really needed a pants-kick on this on...on my whole schedule, generally. I'm cautiously optimistic.
Otherwise: Took Cal to his second post-grad psych assessment at Surrey Place, which was interesting; he treated it as a total joke for the first ten minutes, probably out of anxiety, until I eventually "had" to push him hard enough he had a minor melt-down and cried, at which point he began to perform at the level I know he's capable of. I was happy to reinforce all his good work with clapping and praise and prizes (one Sun Chip for every correct answer, but only the real ones). Oh, we still had the occasional bout of oppositional behaviour and pranking here and there, like when he'd deliberately choose anything except the thing he knew was right, but the rest was kind of perfect, until he ran out of steam and hit a bunch of stuff he just didn't know the answer to. Still, we had interesting conversations about guessing vs. just saying "I don't know", and how both were allowable.
I'm also about halfway through my period, generally feeling like I've been kicked in the crotch, and prone to moments where I simply cannot take certain behaviours anymore. Steve is stepping in, though. I appreciate that.
Okay, that's the news of the day. Back to...chores and then resting, frankly. I did well today.;)
