Featured

Long Form

Hello.

I’ve been writing. Writing a lot. I’ve written at a faster rate than usual these past days. That may have to do with how I’ve been completing certain sections I’ve had in mind (and completing parts tends to be faster than coming up with them). Or it might be me settling into a good rhythm (I doubt so). Or it might be how I’ve been completing my other work, which would be well and good if it were true. No, I’m not saying that it isn’t true; I just can’t tell sometimes what rate I’ve been completing work at. It’s easy in writing, sure, because there’s kind of a plan, and there’s kind of a word count to measure it by, but try doing that with the diversity that is work outside of writing. Impossible to measure.

(But no, it’s not affected my work in any way, which is brilliant, because I’d always assumed that it would. I’ve also managed to do more work than I’ve done in the weeks prior to this recent productivity boost.)

And I digress.

I wanted to point out some interesting things I’ve realised about my current project. They probably took me a lot longer to realise than I would’ve thought, but I suppose it simply means I’m not very bright.

For one thing, it’s long. I don’t think I’ve ever written anything so long before (by which I mean its prospective completed length). Of course I kind of cheated, and if you looked at its structure, you’ll realise why it ends up being so long, but that’s kind of beside the point, isn’t it?

It’s taking a lot out of me too. I remember the process of writing The River, which was a kind of self-inflicted torture that I thought I would see for the rest of my life as long as I kept on writing. I was deceived into a sense of optimism when writing Bukit Merah. I think it had to do with how it was such a different form, and how it felt as if I wasn’t under any pressure to do anything.

But this one, this is something new. I’m doing new things, trying different things, but let’s just say they’re things that come at some kind of cost. It’s strenuous, but I guess I knew that from Day One. It wasn’t ever going to get any easier. Besides, it’s far from the worst job in the world.

It’s expansive, by which I mean more than its size. I mean more specifically its subject matter, actually. It covers quite a lot of ground and tries to make a Renaissance Man out of me. I’m afraid it’s going to be disappointed, and the end-result may all be quite diluted and shallow. There’s always that fear. There are more pressing fears, but this is one among many, and I’m afraid (in a somewhat ironic way) that we will not go into the subject of fear in the interest of avoiding digression.

I actually have no idea where I’m going. Still. I’ve changed my ideas for the ending three times. I’ve slotted in ideas here and there. I’ve got the general idea down pat, but too many things haven’t figured themselves out yet. I suppose it will work itself out eventually. Who knows, really. I may approach my ending half a year or a year from now and grow painfully aware that I can’t possibly have any ending. Then I will weep and eat Tim Tams. Or something.

It’s about a third done. That’s just a guess. I actually don’t know, but in the interest of giving you something concrete, there.

I found the perfect epigram to open the thing, except that it implies a certain pressure. Well, I don’t reckon that it will matter eventually, so I’m keeping it. I’m so happy to have found it. It was under my nose all along and I feel a bit like a fool for not having noticed in the first place.

Who is going to read this book? Actually, I don’t know. If The River is a rock opera, Bukit Merah a progressive rock adaptation of a folk album, then this current project is an experimental album driven by reckless ambition. It’s weird. It’s enormous. I realise those aren’t the adjectives that will prove most saleable, but it’s a struggle to think of adjectives that don’t have any shameless positive connotations to them.

Oh wait, I deflected my own question. No, I don’t know who will read this book. I might not read it, but I suppose that’s just how it is. You can’t really enjoy anything you create. Do I know anyone who might read it? One or two might take a chance. I guess this doesn’t bode well.

So, there you have it. I’ve just said everything and yet close to nothing about what I’m working on right now. I’ll add that it has partly to do with art, and something to do with myth (as always), but I just really hope that it comes across as a book about people. I’m quite sorry I made you read so much of nothing. I know that’s infuriating. It just makes this seem like a self-indulgent exercise, which it probably is. So I don’t know why I wrote this. I think it’s just useful to consolidate my position a bit, and to understand what I’m dealing with by talking to myself. So, thanks for indulging me.

I hope I don’t get distracted. I’m a long way from home, and it would be really stupid of me to get lost just about now. That said, I probably do plenty of stupid things, so I wouldn’t be surprised if that happened.

d

© 2010 a modest odyssey.