Sunday, March 16, 2014

Commentary: Only Sweeter, Part 1

You can view the original piece here: Only Sweeter, Part 1.

This commentary contains many links to other places, most of them my own writings, both on here and Reading all of these links is not necessary for understanding, but if you liked an aspect of Only Sweeter, Part 1, and would like to read more of my writing that references that aspect, the link is a good place to start.

This was originally going to be an interpretation, like I do periodically for my poetry, but for a story, that hardly seems appropriate, so instead, I'm going to call it an "author commentary," which essentially means exactly the same thing, but is going to be exclusively for prose and fiction pieces.

Only Sweeter, Part 1, grew out of a stream-of-consciousness session. Sometimes I do those because I haven't written in a while and feel it's due time but find myself disastrously uninspired; sometimes I do them because I'm itching to write something, but have no desire to make progress on any of the many other projects I have.

I should note here that most of my poetry (probably close to 95 percent) counts as the product of a stream-of-consciousness session. That's just how I write.

This piece was originally going to be called "Butterfly Kisses," in reference to the first two paragraphs, which speaks of someone I've lost. If you've read any of my older writing, starting in late 2005 and well into 2007 (an occasionally later, as I still write of her), you probably know her name: Kit Becker. However, as I was in the process of researching connotations that might be drawn from that title (namely, a song written by Bob Carlisle), a random line from a Fall Out Boy song I was listening to earlier today (and several times in the past week) popped into my head.

I feel that titles and title ideas that just pop into my head are generally more appropriate for my pieces, especially when those are products of s-o-c, than planned titles.

After the first few paragraphs, the story starts diving into a directed setting change, something I've played with a lot when working on different versions of Descent Into Oblivion, my CYO (another project that deserves more work). I didn't plan on going into the same setting as D.I.O, but I wanted to go somewhere, and just telling a story about riding my bicycle isn't terribly interesting.

Being the s-o-c that this is, it came to me my love of storms, my crazy list of things that I want to try, and another, much older project that I once tried to bring together in my late-high-school and early-college days, where (through a somewhat obscure American Gods reference) worlds of fiction are capable of becoming just as real (or more real) than the world we live in (that I am fond of calling the "consensual reality").

This apocalyptic story (which will probably never see the light of day) was based on the idea that an army of super-gods or beings from a higher plane of existence were coming to destroy the earth, but had no way of manifesting on their own. Instead, they were limited to worlds of ideas that were brought onto the war-plain by the people who were going to fight it (namely, my closest friends at the time). We, ourselves, would be limited by the same guidelines: allowed any weapons from the same worlds of ideas.

At the time, those worlds would have been predominantly .hack and NGE (anime), German war fiction, and Ragnarok Online (video game).

Only Sweeter is (hopefully) going to be a lot simpler. First off, it's just me. Secondly, the super-gods will be taking ideas from my head (Ghostbusters reference). Thirdly, the writing style is conversational, which makes it easier to write without a full "battle plan" so to speak. Fourthly, it all may change in Part 2 (if I ever write part 2), and this may become some other kind of story that I can't even think of right now.

That's the wonderful thing about stream-of-consciousness sessions: even I, as the writer, have no idea what's going to happen next, and I'm okay with that. I'm just happy to be along for the journey, and I hope you'll join me.

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