Rewriting, 10 years later
Wednesday, December 13th, 2006 at 11:45 amRoughly 10 years ago I wrote a story. It was the first story I’d written - as in, started and finished and filled with the stuff that goes in between those two points - since high school. It was called The Art of Dying, and it happened when Gwynn, a character who’d been in my head for several years, suddenly appeared in a smoking den in the company of two women, Mona and Vali. These two, I soon realised, were lovers, and Gwynn in this particular incarnation or role was Mona’s old flame. The den was in a city on the edge of a very high cliff. The city was called Sheol, after the abode of the dead in Hebrew mythology. Since Sheol was/is supposed to be an underground place - basically, the dirt where the dead lie - the top of a cliff seems a strange place for its namesake, but there you go. Even in the highest heaven, the dead are still dead.
It was published in Aurealis magazine, at least partly because Trudi Canavan, who was reading the slush, liked it. I’ve written a few more stories since then. In each case, the process has been one of writing, rewriting, sending out, seeing the thing published, then filing it away. All except for that first story, which now and then tempts me to go back and tinker with it. As a result, I’ve now got six versions of it. The events in the story never change, only the words, the characters’ reasons for their actions, their thoughts and dialogue. It’s easy to understand why you might want to alter these things. Tastes and interests change over time, and ideas that seemed fresh and important ten years back seem a bit stale and oh-so-1996 now. Still, I ask myself why I keep rewriting this particular story and not others. Gwynn’s in it, and I like spending time with him, but that isn’t the only reason. To be honest, I think it’s because the story stumps me. I don’t actually know why the characters do what they do, except for one, the outsider, a young journalist who follows the main three around. Very little of the story gets told from his perspective, but he’s still somehow my eyes and ears in their world. When I write their thoughts, I might as well be writing his conjectures.
I’m now redoing it again for translation, collating all the versions and making yet another one, with a sprinkling of new variations. I have to give up on the idea that there’s ever going to be a final one, or that it’s even asymptotically progressing towards something ‘final’. Maybe I’ll be tinkering with it till I drop and settle down for the long dirt nap myself, ridiculously obsessed with this strange object that flew by one night and landed in my lap.
December 14th, 2006 at 12:58 am
It’s your Mona Lisa! (DaVinci was, supposedly, working on that painting on and off through the years until he had a stroke and couldn’t anymore.)
Will you be posting your re-re-re-(ad infinitum)write of it anywhere? (Because, well, as you can guess, I rather like spending time with Gwynn as well. :D)
December 14th, 2006 at 7:24 pm
Gwynn says he likes spendin’ time with you, too, hon. He loves yer hair, and would you meet him in a mariachi bar?
December 15th, 2006 at 3:07 am
I read the version on Infinity Plus and rememer thinking afterwards something to the effect of, “Well, that’s quite incredible for a first story, despite it being a slightly modified version.” I reread it a few times and each time found myself speculating on the moral paradoxes resulting from Gwyn’s deed during his moment of “divinity.” Mona’s resemblance to Audsley King in “In Viriconium”, whether intentional or not, is eerily effective. Who knows what will happen to the reality of the scenario after several more manefestations? I reckon it can only get more interesting; dreams aren’t exactly stable are they?
Although it’s off the topic I just have to mention this: I returned earlier this week from a trip to Bangkok. You live in a fascinating place… So many contrasts.
-Christo, Cape Town.
December 15th, 2006 at 10:04 am
Well spotted, sir; Audsley King was definitely an inspiration for Mona. That story fascinated me; I couldn’t understand why Audsley wouldn’t leave the plague zone - and whatever Mona may say about her reasons for wanting to die, it’s only her talk; I can’t see into her mind at all.
This version won’t be too much different. The first one was more sparely written and my tastes have swung back that way, and Gwynn and Vali have a few new thoughts. But after this, who knows? I’m happy for it to be a recurring dream with a chronic lack of fixity.
Side note: One of my favourite books is Pier Paolo Pasolini’s “Petrolio”, which was unfinished when he died, and has been printed from his manuscript notes exactly as he left them, with ellipses, undecided words, differently written versions of the same paragraph, etc. The unfixed text makes for a rich effect, I think (but it’s still disciplined and anchored enough to be read without pain).
I imagine Cape Town must be pretty interesting too. My Teleute Shelf is like an enlarged Table Mountain, actually. If you’re ever back in Bangkok and you’ve got time, give me a hoy if you like and we can go down t’ pub.
December 16th, 2006 at 3:19 am
I think you have just given a practical demonstration of post modernism and not too many people could say that!
Anyway, it sounds like much more fun re-writing a story than re-writing a PhD thesis (which is all I seem to do these days). As they say - ‘there’s no such thing as writing, only re-writing…’
December 16th, 2006 at 6:48 am
And my postmodernism is all natural and 100% theory free to boot!
I suspect that licking dead slugs off tarmac might be more fun than re-writing a PhD thesis.
January 17th, 2007 at 7:30 pm
Are there going to be any more stories about Gwynn? I read and loved both The Etched City and The Art of Dying, and would love to see him again.
January 17th, 2007 at 8:29 pm
I think so. In fact, I’m writing something about him now, but it’s very peculiar and at the same time quite low-key. Even though I think about him a lot, he’s a challenge to write. Bishounen that he is, he wants to be in a manga, which I want to arrange if it possibly can be done. Just need an artist…and, er, a script…
January 18th, 2007 at 5:57 am
The Art of Drowning is *the* story that turned me on to short stories qua genre. I kind of despised them before that.
And I think it’s the impenetrability of the characters, and their, I don’t know, quantum indecision or apathy or ennui - just the feeling that the stuff happening in the story transgresses every species of logic and rationality - that’s what made me love it so much.
January 18th, 2007 at 11:11 am
Wow. Thank ‘ee. =D (Does the Happy Ego dance).
Have you read M. John Harrison’s ‘Viriconium’ stories? If not, you might like them. I got the idea of writing in that oblique way from them. (And the quality of his writing is something I can still only aspire to.)
February 9th, 2007 at 12:12 am
I’m glad I’m not the only one who sees some of her characters as bishounen. Makes me feel better about the realisation that I don’t think I’ll ever be growing up. =D
February 9th, 2007 at 10:26 am
Never wanna be a groan-up! I’ve been drawing Gwynn chibified lately. He looks cute holding his Beth doll. (Not only refuses to grow up but refuses to act like a proper serious writer.)
February 9th, 2007 at 7:42 pm
Ah, that’s me, dead from the cute. =D
February 1st, 2008 at 10:16 am
Thanks for sharing