It’s a little bit dystopian; a little bit sci-fi and every bit me. I have a style and a general concept behind all writing that relies on philosophical premises and the obsessive fixation our society, especially the men, have on sex. The truth is, even the most devout Christians find themselves secretly fantasizing in manners that would, essentially, be considered as some form of objectification.
We objectify ourselves and the opposite gender in every way imaginable. This is not really limited to being a male issue, but I happen to be a male thereby better able to see myself than to see what it is like to be a woman. But do not let the “sexual revolution” concept fool you; most of the ‘freedoms’ I see taken by women in media are nothing more than continuing an institutional pattern of sexual objectification.
We objectify ourselves then project that objectification outward. And we do not see how we are doing this to ourselves and our children.
So, I was working on the mainstream project, Hammer, but this other project is practically consuming my mind both day and night. Here I am, during my lunch break ruminating of this story rather than the more mainstream story. Sure, I questioned in the past whether this was simply a ruse to keep myself on the fringes of society and writing by avoiding something that might have more mass appeal. But it is also me sitting in front of a keyboard with something to say feeling that this is a better avenue for that artistic expression.
Plus, just being honest here, this story gives me room to play with structure, tense, narrative and a whole host of artistic concepts to both challenge myself and the one or two people who dare spend a cup of coffee on a book instead.
So, I started the first chapter and finished it, beginning the second. I was going to tell an entirely first person story and wind backwards as he finds out who he really is, but then it dawned on me the other things I want to do with this story – the sci-fi element, the dystopian element – those things do not work well, maybe not at all, in a first person account working backward through time when the primary character suffers from retrograde amnesia.
So, solving this problem, the second chapter jumps backward in time with a narrator, a prescient narrator, looking at a different version of the same character. This begins to explain his departure from an entirely conscious person with no qualms about identity, place or time. And I am thinking I can weave this story, the story from a narrator about a character who is known, into the story about the man who wakes up with no memory. By doing this, I can bring into the fold other complex characters and make the story deeper and more complex.
Of course, it could backfire in stunning fashion into a long-winded ball of confusion. But that is a journey I must take, I feel, in order for the vision I have to become a reality.