Talking to myself, and answering back · 1:13am Jan 16th, 2014
Sometimes I talk to my muse. Physically. Another self, who looks over my shoulder and alternatively criticizes and lauds my work. Call him my “shadow” for you psych majors – slash – Persona fans out there. Or my muse. Or a crack illusion. Whichever.
He sometimes raises good points, but mostly he’s kind of a dick.
We were metaphorically fishing one day and I sighed.
“Sad that your fifteen minutes of internet fame are over?” he said, sending me one of those contemptuous glances.
“Not really,” I shrugged. “The whole thing was a little odd.”
“How so?” he asked.
It was hard to put the emotions into words, but I tried. “It was almost embarrassing. I’m damn PROUD of ‘A Great Endeavor.’ I researched that shit. It took me over a year to write. It’s my baby. I posted it, and it got something on the order of five readers.”
“’Glory,’ on the other hand, was conceived, sketched, and written all in the space of one hazy night. I don’t even remember much of the writing or the thought process that went into it. It’s like I was half-asleep. Wine might’ve been involved. It was rough around every edge, but I went ‘eh, why not,’ and kicked it onto the site. And the damn thing got featured.”
He shrugged. “You unhappy with it?”
“Nah,” I said. “Feels a little weird, sure. But I’m not an idiot. Inspiration strikes unpredictably, good attention is gratifying, and just because you spend a lot more time on something else doesn’t mean other people will like it more. And just because the other thing is more popular doesn’t mean I need to like it more, either. I like Glory just fine. Hell, I like it a lot – I’m not gonna write something I don’t even want to read. But it almost feels like it’s another person who wrote it.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. “But it’s not. Now are you going to write an epilogue or what?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I replied, drawing the line back and casting it out again. The fish weren’t biting. “I really like the idea of the ending being ambiguous.”
“So write two endings,” he came back. “Duh.”
“I don’t know,” I said again. “As it stands it’s rough but it’s... ‘pure,’ I guess. Made without anyone’s influence, or thought of what anyone wants but me. I can’t help but wonder if I’d cheapen the whole thing by tacking more onto it. There’s certainly no way I can recreate the tone. Even if I could summon sleepless creativity at will, the after party and/or funeral would be a completely different animal. It would focus on events, rather than internal feelings. It would sound, read, and feel completely different.”
He cast his own line out again, giving me one of those raised-eyebrow looks. “Well, don’t worry about cheapening it. You’re doing this for free, so there’s nothing to cheapen.”
“You know what I mean,” I grumbled back.
He snorted. “And you know what I mean. By ‘cheapening,’ what you really mean is ‘other people wouldn’t approve.’”
“Some wouldn’t,” I countered. “And others have asked for an epilogue. So…”
He tapped a foot, glancing irately to the still water. “So no matter what you do, some will want you to do it, and others won’t. Which brings us to the most important question, then. Do you want to write epilogues for the story.”
I pulled my line out of the water again. Still no bites. “Maybe.”
“Well, call me when you decide. Now let’s go watch some TV. The fish aren’t biting.”
“What are we watching? MLP?”
“Nah, let’s catch up on the new season of TMNT. Booyakasha.”
It ended with hope. Tenuous, poignant hope. On the other hand, it had me shedding tears like crazy, mainly because Blues still thought life was so empty, in spite of loving so deeply that even will-sapping magic couldn't stop him.
Enjoy the teevees.
Cowabunga is dead.
MANLY TEARS WERE SHED THAT DAY
Such introspection.
In the FWIW department... I've looked at Endeavor again, and, though I did hang a "like" on it, I'm baffled at how I failed to hit the "fave" button. I've since remedied that. I'm re-reading it, as well, but it'll take me a little while to get through it again.
Take heart - some of us are listening...