Workshop – Page 3 – Seeds of Fear

Names and Doubts

Something I’ve mentioned already, is that much of my work existed under a different name than the final product. To make a document, you have to give it a name it will be saved under, but when writing, giving something a fitting title before you even start is a big ask. So, after getting more familiar, I often find I want something different to be the icon of the work.

But names are not limited to titles. Character names are tough. One can always slap a random name on, but then you have to live with that choice for every appearance that character makes. Names matter.

Another example: when it comes time to name a new, fictional discovery. The fictional alien species I had to name gave me quite the headache. At first, my instinct said to follow how scientists name space phenomena: black holes, dark matter, pulsars. It felt reasonable to say that humans, having given out names like hagfish and sombrero galaxy, might give monikers as uninspired as “Carnivores” and “Bugs” to species fitting those descriptions. I certainly wouldn’t be the first fiction writer to take such a course.

But while being uninventive is a classic human act, I wanted a little more out of the names. After some consideration, I settled on names that sounded like they came from the species themselves. Khanvröst is a double-edged sword, it both sounds like a word in their language, and carries the seeds of words associated with their nature: Carnivorous, frost, tyrannical (Khan). Pliktik is simply an onomatopoeia for the sound of mandibles gnashing. Xalanthii, however, is a little more subtle. The species, to human kind, is largely mute, and communicates via a color-changing patch in the forehead. The name can’t originated from their gills, certainly. For this, I used a method called “It sounds and looks cool” but also wanted association the exotic from the moment the name appears: a rare consonant, a doubled vowel.

All of this has to do with the act of second-guessing when writing and editing. Any time I reread my work, I question certain choices I make, and wonder if I can’t revise them to better serve my intended purposes. Typically, if a character says or does something, I like for them to have multiple reasons to explain why they did. I hold myself to a similar standard. I can’t do something just because it moves the plot forward, it has to have an identifiable cause. If true deus ex machina is to occur, then I’d better know which deus chose to be ex machina and why.

Beginning: Sublime 1

Sublime. Where to start? At the beginning, right? After lifeless, I spent time revisiting old works and wondering at the things I left out due to timidity. This so possessed me that I took the time to put into writing a biography of sorts for what I considered my most thoroughly depraved villain. I rather enjoyed the process, as it justified going as far down the course as possible, and seeing where I ended up.

What I wasn’t ready for, was my sudden desire for just a little more complexity. It’s all well and good to experience the horrors and terrors of a grisly concept, but without levity to contrast, you end up muddling your way through the dark, not sure if you’re getting anywhere. So, the biography went from a place of depravity, to one of moral hand-wringing.

But I digress, heavily. With Sublime, I had a few requirements for myself. First, first person perspective. I wanted to increase the immersion a little, and even made an effort to keep the narrator very ambiguous. Every time the reader passes over “I”, hopefully they impose a little more of themself onto the story.

Second, I wanted to be both shocking and meaningful. A splash of blood loses its meaning when it’s already raining type AB+ from the heavens. To this end, I took pains to create contrast, to have serenity and violence as bedfellows.

Finally, I wanted to have mystery. It’s common to hear that “good storytelling doesn’t tell, it shows.” I like this idea a lot. I like movies where you have to think for yourself just a bit, to put things together and feel engaged. I am still guilty of running to the internet and searching “movie ending meaning” from time to time. That’s probably what drives me to write these. Understanding and certainty are comforting feelings.

I made choices in writing this story that reflect my feelings and interests at the time. I wrote from the belief that characters do just as much guessing as I do, and get the wrong idea a lot. I had also begun to embrace the idea of an open ended question, a rhetorical scenario. I, of course, had my exact understanding of the back story I imagined for what I wrote, but I also made space for the possibility of other interpretations. A sudden twist at the end of a movie could just as easily be a fan theory to explain a bit of withheld plot.

I could go on for a while, but I’d be contradicting my point about not giving everything away. Instead, I’ll let you imagine how to end it succinctly, like so:

Behind “Lifeless”

“Lifeless” marked a turning point in my writing style. Prior to writing this, my work almost entirely revolved around dark fantasy and the occasional sci-fi adventure. I always had a proclivity for the grim, but with this story, I decided I wanted to push the envelope, and tackle more than just cheap violence and gore. It started as a vent piece, taking an unsettling nightmare I had experienced, and transforming it into a creative work. Spoilers ahead, by the way.

The prototype name for this piece was “Unliving”. It revolved around a world in which some faceless “them” had taken control of society in ways it hadn’t before, in response to an event that altered life itself. Things are upside down in more way than one: The dead are more able than the living, and instead of being respected, they are loathed; Prostitution and human trafficking are regulated, successful businesses, while housing and medical care have fallen to the side. It felt compelling to paint this picture of a world with strange and maligned morals.

The key moment of the story takes place when a dead brother and his living sister see eye to eye, and both experience a shock that reminds them that their lives, (or afterlife), is not as it should be. Bleak as it is, I could not bring myself (yet) to write a story with a truly sad ending, and so left it bittersweet.

After recieving positive feedback from friends, I felt empowered to ruminate on the compulsion to explore risky territory. It seems fitting to start this archive with the story that initiated my journey into less forgiving topics.

While I hesitate to pull punches, I will put here the idea that, for a long time, prevented me from pushing myself to broaden my horizons: I don’t wish to be interpreted as a shallow sadist or some such. My work explores difficult topics, and frequently features characters acting in ways that are uninformed, biggoted, or unhealthy. This doesn’t mean I think people should act that way. Its because I believe in confronting that behavior, dragging it into the light, and examining it. The life unexamined is not worth living, supposedly. Pain, confusion, and loss are part of life. QED, I think.