Mark
I don't write stories.
I write scenes.
I write movies.
The last few pages of Mark have been almost entirely dialogue. Spoken words. Now and then, I throw in a few narrative lines to explain what's happening and who is talking, but generally, I see this as a movie and I write it as I see it. I see a lot of things like a movie. That's why I occassionally do something a particular way; it looks the most cinematic in my mind.
Sounds crazy to me. But it's true. I walk through my life imagining that everyone I speak with is either a true character, or an extra. Each time I turn in an application, I see a short film about the journey of that application to the desk of whomever is in charge of hiring people, and I see it get glanced at, filed away, and forgotten. And when I awaken in the morning and wonder what time it is, how late I've slept...I don't look at the world as if it has passed by without me. I look at it as though various back-story events have occurred, but in the end, the world is now getting going again.
I swear, I have the mental state of the Truman Show. And occassionally I wonder whether there's some truth to it, for me or for everyone.
I don't believe so. But it makes me wonder, when I really look at how my mind works, on a semi-concious level. I wonder if something in my brain is picking up on things, or if I'm just losing my mind or being crazy.
Maybe that's part of why Mark holds such fascination for me. The story begins with Mark waking up, and going for a walk. The scene changes, and Mark has arrived at a friend's apartment, hoping to chat with her for a bit. Then, it changes again, and he's with a third person. Soon, it's discovered that the timeline of these events isn't unidirectional...and not long later, the timeline begins to dissolve entirely. For brief moments, three or four scenes seem to meld all at once, where one girl is leaving him while another is just arriving, and the third is on the phone asking whether she can come over.
Mark's view of reality is collapsing around him. Perspective and perception, which in essence rule our lives, are falling apart.
And for some reason, that absolutely fascinates me. And now that he's beginning to cope with it, even manipulate it somewhat, it's becoming more and more clear that very little of what he sees is real to begin with...that, creative mind that he has, he is successfully inventing his reality. As for the reader, they are given almost no firm grasp on what is actually real...and are even led to believe, due to the wording and course of events, that perhaps absolutely NONE of it is.
This is among my crown works, and it is the most incoherent, the most bizarre...it is among the least story-like creations I've ever done, including the screenplay that I wrote (and maybe even finished). It's hardly even a movie anymore. I'm not sure WHAT could describe it.
And I'm extremely proud of it. Even though I doubt more than a small handful of people in the WORLD would understand why, or share my affection.
I write scenes.
I write movies.
The last few pages of Mark have been almost entirely dialogue. Spoken words. Now and then, I throw in a few narrative lines to explain what's happening and who is talking, but generally, I see this as a movie and I write it as I see it. I see a lot of things like a movie. That's why I occassionally do something a particular way; it looks the most cinematic in my mind.
Sounds crazy to me. But it's true. I walk through my life imagining that everyone I speak with is either a true character, or an extra. Each time I turn in an application, I see a short film about the journey of that application to the desk of whomever is in charge of hiring people, and I see it get glanced at, filed away, and forgotten. And when I awaken in the morning and wonder what time it is, how late I've slept...I don't look at the world as if it has passed by without me. I look at it as though various back-story events have occurred, but in the end, the world is now getting going again.
I swear, I have the mental state of the Truman Show. And occassionally I wonder whether there's some truth to it, for me or for everyone.
I don't believe so. But it makes me wonder, when I really look at how my mind works, on a semi-concious level. I wonder if something in my brain is picking up on things, or if I'm just losing my mind or being crazy.
Maybe that's part of why Mark holds such fascination for me. The story begins with Mark waking up, and going for a walk. The scene changes, and Mark has arrived at a friend's apartment, hoping to chat with her for a bit. Then, it changes again, and he's with a third person. Soon, it's discovered that the timeline of these events isn't unidirectional...and not long later, the timeline begins to dissolve entirely. For brief moments, three or four scenes seem to meld all at once, where one girl is leaving him while another is just arriving, and the third is on the phone asking whether she can come over.
Mark's view of reality is collapsing around him. Perspective and perception, which in essence rule our lives, are falling apart.
And for some reason, that absolutely fascinates me. And now that he's beginning to cope with it, even manipulate it somewhat, it's becoming more and more clear that very little of what he sees is real to begin with...that, creative mind that he has, he is successfully inventing his reality. As for the reader, they are given almost no firm grasp on what is actually real...and are even led to believe, due to the wording and course of events, that perhaps absolutely NONE of it is.
This is among my crown works, and it is the most incoherent, the most bizarre...it is among the least story-like creations I've ever done, including the screenplay that I wrote (and maybe even finished). It's hardly even a movie anymore. I'm not sure WHAT could describe it.
And I'm extremely proud of it. Even though I doubt more than a small handful of people in the WORLD would understand why, or share my affection.