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November 3, 2014 by musehick

I am in Nanowrimo, deep up to my chin. I had some weird notion that I was writing a straight up science fiction story called “Wordsword” and a literary fiction thing called “Subsidence”. That is not what I am writing though. It is almost as if Ben Kenobi were stood there telling me that these are not the droids you are looking for.

It’s true. They aren’t. “Wordsword” is a weird little detective science fiction musing on existential matters with some environmental concerns spliced into it. “Subsidence” is about some huge conspiracy theory about property which I think might rope in disaster capitalism and a whole raft of other tangential bullshit that might seem relevant.

I write these novels by a kind of island hopping, or a pattern like female shopping where you start in one place and travel around and then end up back where you started. The most regimented or a-to-b kind of writing I ever do is with my flash fiction serials. It’s funny because it means I never really know exactly where I am going because it sometimes changes where I am coming from. I redraw maps like a bastard.

I look forward to seeing what these weird bastard hybrids turn out like in the end … I am always more of a jazz than a classical writer; more of a hip-hop than a what? Ah, who knows. Listen for the stuttering drum track, listen for the glitching electronics, the droning feedback, and you’ll be hearing the mental soundtrack that I write to. Sometimes at least – other times its Coltrane or Davis or Bird, but something pushing at the edge and tearing the envelope.

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