the ramble dump

So, dragons.

Dragons like to do everything on a grand scale. Flamboyant, ambitious and perhaps a tad egotistical, they love to be the centre of attention. Or so it is according to the Chinese zodiac.

One day I'm going to create my own zodiac, probably, and those born on the exact date and the exact time as myself, with the same name and characteristics, will be the great ones. But for now, I'll stick with what we have, and with that, I'm probably more in line with my supposed Western sign, Scorpio.

But I noticed an interesting thing about dragons.

And, inevitably, it's to do with writing.

To come from a seemingly total otherdirection: why do I write?

No...that's too big a question for just yet. How do I write? Cinematically. This is something I've realised quite recently, especially during the bigger, more action-orientated events in a story. Even if it doesn't always turn out that way in the end, the approach is cinematic. I get an image in my mind's eye, sometimes a very specific image, literally looked at from a certain angle, and I try to put it into words. In City of Anarchy, there's Hermes being launched into the sky as a building explodes underneath him, for example; Chimaera in SciBoard Fiction forcing the snout of the shotgun into the top of the alien's head and firing; or vehicles being hurled into the air and thrown into buildings as the fat men in tweed pursue the Mini Cooper down the street in The Aberration.

But why do I write like this? To impress? To turn to the audience and go, 'Look what insane and spectacular stuff I can make happen!'

'Woah,' said the detective.

I think I'm guilty of this even more than I realise. I do tend, I'll admit, to get a bit carried away. When I first posted City of Anarchy I had people going 'Is this story going to give me nightmares?', and while I was staging a zombie versus pirate fight in SciBoard Resurrection, the climax of which was a hundred barrels of gunpowder and rum igniting and tearing the pirate ship apart, I was too busy having altogether too much fun with it to realise how over-the-top it was, and ended up having someone commenting, accompanied by a shocked-looking smiley, 'My dear God. Not afraid of spectacle, are you?'

So is that all it is? Spectacle? Am I some sort of literary showman, with trailers and posters and general enthusiasm, trying to gather an audience to witness this showcase, this freakshow, that I have brought before the public?

It's that dragon thing, in a way. Eccentricity and flamboyancy. Showing off. Being the centre of attention, which all writers love to be, even though some might pretend otherwise.

But then, while I'd be lying if I said I didn't take some delight in people responding with pop-eyed smilies when I present the absurd, the dark or the unusual, entertaining other people is actually a very small part of it. It's much more selfish than that. I do it to entertain myself.

Picture, if you will, a dark and eerily-lit laboratory. Its centrepiece is a large slab, upon which lies a dormant creature of freakish qualities; and somewhere to the right is I, the mad but nevertheless genius scientist, cackling maniacally and bringing down a giant lever with all my force. Impressive lightning effects ensue, and the monster becomes alive. I shriek with glee at that which I have created.

Enthusiasm, sometimes demented, is needed to bring ideas to life, whether it's being curious about or taking interest in some line of thought or image, or throwing yourself full-force into a concept or hypothetical world, either way exploring it and seeing what interesting things you can find.

This is why I write. This is what I love about writing. It can be figuring out a way of telling or presenting a story, through the way I use language and the way I construct different scenes and situations, or it can be examining what-if scenarios: what if there was a universe with giant slugs that wore wigs and slippers? What would happen if such an aspect of history was changed in this way? Fat men in tweed as seemingly inhuman, terrifying monsters...weird, eh?

Entertainment. Imagination. Perspective. Causality, history, humanity.

Exploring, experimenting, seeing what happens. Making something good out of it, and making something interesting.

Labels: boardfic, city of anarchy, excerpts, fat men in tweed, i am the ramblemaster, starcustard, the aberration

# posted by Chris @ 7:39 PM