I've
been trying trying trying to write a various perspectives version of a story,
trying trying trying to write it light at first, as if ‘her side, his side,
truth’ kinda material, or ‘slow, fast, fastest…’ The problem is world building
and character arches for people I’ve never touched upon.
Namely, whether
it’s crime or romance or whatever, when you are writing a NORMAL book/story,
creating the characters and the world is the worst. Rules for NORMAL fiction
are the worst. The leads have to have some entirely generic, Anglosaxon names
like Greg and Claire or Luke and Samantha …… ffs. The lore has to be linear,
they must be very normal people whose relatable world changes because of
external event. I’m not saying I can’t write like that (to take a breather off
Goose over the holidays), but I got fucking bored three lines in!
Here’s a
‘romance’ version of the events example. First line.
Kyle and
Gracie clicked like Legos the moment their eyes met. And not in a tiny room of
an empty café or something like that either, no: across the field of a summer
festival arrangements, a field the size of a landing strip. Just one of those moments, two mayflies
colliding in the sky. 108 people had already been busy setting up the site between
them. Kyle, a tall, dark haired with decent leadership skills was over-seeing
construction of a small stage, while Gracie’s bus has only just arrived and her
and her ensemble of dance, music, art and stage instructors poured out onto the
lawn greeting, cheering and hugging everybody, as entertainment people tend to
do (you never know who’s future audience.) Even a few hours later, when groundworks
has somewhat quieted down and friends could mix or be made anew, they
gravitated towards one another through the forest of other people.
Sam, a long-time friend of
Gracie’s and Kyle’s kindergarten schoolmate from before they moved, introduced
them, which inspired Gracie to try and make a social joke – none of which have
so far come out sounding as cool as everyone had hoped. “Your name is really
Kyle?” she grinned.
“My dear,” replied Kyle in a
tone too condescending to be real, sipping the last of his soda, entertaining
their circle with the performance, “my name is Kyleroy James Atherton the
Fourth.”
People, not just Gracie, paused
before bursting into laughter. “You’re joking.”
“I joke you not.”
“Are you really rich or
something?” asked Marie, another friend of Gracie’s.
“You would think so, wouldn’t
you? My grandfather had the same idea. He named my dad Kyleroy James Atherton
the Third in a calculated attempt to make him sound important, because gran
really really wanted dad to make it
big and we'd all be rich. When dad didn’t prove to be so very up to schools he was
shoved into, the tradition passed onto me. My father has no spine, he caved
when gran insisted. Mum did all kinds of yoga so I'd be a girl. Then I would have been called Lucy.”
Embarrassed, people giggled and
chuckled and Sam man-hugged Kyle with one arm, shaking him. “Good story, man.
Tragic, but also kinda funny.”
“Lucy’s a beautiful name,” said
Gracie.
“Alas, her prayers weren’t answered.
So ye. I’m Kyle. Pleasure to meet you,” and in the final mockery of his grandfather’s
desire for riches, he took Gracie’s hand and kissed the knuckles, making
everyone laugh, except the girls who were themselves slightly interested in receiving
such a show, and Gracie, who blushed and imagined him naked, so, technically,
just Sam and two other roadies for the band who hung out with Kyle, because he
looked closer like a rock star than any of the other band members combined.
And that is how this story
begins.
Kill me
now. It’s like riding a race horse with their legs tied up.
I’m
veering back to the three-sided story I can use in Goose, where the characters
are all crazy to begin with and there’s no cap on sex, violence or additional
crazy. That’s where I feel home.
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