I write, therefore I am…

Introduction
Judging by other writers I’ve met and my own rather peculiar experiences, writing seems to encompass a form of catharsis. The writer is able to externalise sentiments, imbue a character with them and thus look at that feeling objectively. Ultimately, this compels one on an inward odyssey into the good, the bad and the ugly (what greater journey is there?). And in the absence of any tangible god or defining purpose to existence, it can become one’s raison d’être. Hell, it beats psychoanalysis any day with all its kwackery and pet-theories, eh?

What are my influences and why do I write?
‘Influence’ (not to be confused with ‘under the influence’), is axiomatic to any writer though often obscured from the reader. What I mean is, to exist is to be influenced; drawing from the inner and external world through the fluidic and perceptions of six senses (I include intuitiveness). Writing could be seen as an attempt to make sense of things through this amorphous dual point perspective by freeing the imagination to run riot in a virtual world.

On this shifting sand of self-knowledge and worldly insight, an individual is hurled into a tumult of conflicting sentiments. Afterall, experience is interleaved with triumph, tragedy, love and hate etc. In some, this crucible might inflame destructiveness. In others, it compels creativity. Allow me to illustrate this point with an extreme example:

Mr A and Mr B are both unjustly accused of a heinous crime by a most objectionable, bigoted and influential individual. Whilst neither party is guilty of this crime, they’re not able to convince the accuser of their innocence. As a consequence, they suffer the destruction of their reputation through a concerted campaign of hearsay. Both are suitably indignant at this effrontery, but the outcome for each is at complete variance:

Mr A is not a writer (and fears delving into his psyche). He decides to confront his accuser face-to-face. Naturally, this altercation proves futile. Since rumour circumvents both libel and slander laws, there’s no obvious recourse to justice. Inevitably, he becomes consumed by the rage of injustice and his thoughts turn to vengeance. Mr A feels obliged to take the law into his own hands. His subsequent murder trial is, of course, a direct result of his lack of introspection and imagination.

Mr B is a writer. He feels the same sense of injustice with the situation as Mr A. However, this rage against his accuser is tempered with a dispassionate and critical eye. Afterall, this is someone who’s allowed him to plumb depths of human grotesquery and thereby discover truths (even humour) that he might never have glimpsed. He writes feverishly, driven by this startling revelation. Ultimately, he’s grateful to his unwitting muse for exposing this new ‘truth’. Of course, the accuser is far too conceited to recognise himself in Mr B’s writing, but Mr B is nonetheless expunged of hatred. Moreover, he now regards his accuser as being utterly absurd.

And if you think I’m being melodramatic with my example, then consider the Columbine High School massacre in the US. Clearly, these are conjectural outcomes, but I hope they illustrate the radically different ways negative experience can skew people. Many of us have been ridiculed, slandered, betrayed or even demonised at some stage. But it’s how a person channels the anger, the stifled polemic, and even the desire for revenge and that matters. These are forces that can be unleashed in potent acts of creativity. In fact, it could be argued that – for a writer – to suffer is to be inspired. Yunno…don’t bl*ody whinge about it - write about it!

Obviously, this extreme example omits those ‘better angels’ in life such as friendship, compassion and love, which are equally inspirational. There’s certainly no point dwelling on ‘accuser-types’ who regard themselves as moral arbiters and enforcers. Personally, I feel pity for them since they’ve probably never had an original thought in their entire existence and remain blindfolded to themselves and the world by dogma and received ‘wisdom’. In fact, I’m grateful that the world contains these dullards since they represent such a rich seam of comedy. Anyway, I digress…

Returning to a major literary influence of mine, I would like to share with you some inspiring words from Voltaire:

‘A great work must be a novel without being far-fetched; frequently sublime, but always natural. The author must know the human heart, and how to make it speak; he must be a poet, without letting his characters speak like poets; and he must be a master of his language, using it purely and harmoniously and not letting the rhyme interfere with the sense. Whoever fails to observe any one of these conditions…though he may gain public applause with one or two plays, will never be reckoned in the number of good authors.’ (An extract from ‘Candide’).

Not all my influences are quite so highbrow. I think Tom Sharpe deserves a mention since he scrapes away at the veneer of ‘English propriety’ and exposes social division and sexual repression with humour. He also uses a lot of farce. I mean, life’s peppered by misunderstanding and misinterpretation. Comedy (and especially satire) exploits this. It also demonstrates the ultimate fallibility of language.

Feyodor Dostoyevsky is also an influence on my work. When I first read ‘Crime and Punishment’, I was blown away. The reader truly gets inside the head of his characters. Dostoyevsky carefully constructs a scenario where concepts of ‘justice’ are turned on their head. A world where good people suffer, bad people prosper, villains become heroes and the so-called ‘heroes’ are little more than self-serving bureaucrats. Meanwhile an impotent God looks on with indifference at the procession of human misery and injustice. Sadly, I see a lot of truth in this magnificent work. I think Dostoyevsky exposes the human condition like noone else I’ve ever read. It’s a masterpiece and I’d love to have even a fingernail’s worth of his talent!

Developing a narrative style.
As a failed, or as yet, unpublished author, I don’t expect anything that I advocate to be taken as gospel. I simply hope to offer a keyhole into my own creative processes. I’ve mentioned characters and the way that their words might excavate aspects of human nature or even facets of the author. But a plot is also driven by narrative. This amounts to the omnipresent words of the storyteller. With this ‘power’ comes responsibility and an obligation to the reader to reveal the inner workings of characters. For instance, narrative can expose discrepancies between what is said and what is actually meant. It might also (hopefully) provoke introspection in the reader. This is an onerous responsibility for a writer since it’s all too easy to fall into the trap of being preachy or didactic (although blogs are a species apart from this). In my experience, narrative works best if it assumes an ‘amoral’ perspective. It’s up to the reader to discern the ‘morality’ or ‘immorality’ of any particular character based on his or her own particular standpoint.

Personally, what matters more than anything in narrative is ‘neutral truth’. I realise that truth could be seen as subjective or abstract, but I refer to the integrity of a character. Truth involves the author engaging with a character’s mindset and giving him or her a voice that’s unstilted by his own set of values. Moreover, imposing one’s own morality on a character would be disingenuous. Afterall, can’t those patronising sermons and self-eulogising be left to politicians or the clergy…? It’s just unfortunate that political might confers an enormous narrative power and an ability to rewrite history and turn it into some bullsh*t fable. Take Joseph Stalin, for instance – he considered himself a great hero in his diaries. However, Stalin’s crime wasn’t in his storytelling. His felony lay in the falsification of character (himself) and then presenting this as a truth (oh yes, humanity’s fiends prefer to pose as saviours in their own internal narrative…).

Hmm…I’m waffling. Anyway, it’s my belief that the creed of good narrative should aspire to reject theological dogma, received wisdom, political propaganda and even tradition. Paradoxically, it should also unreservedly reject every idea contained within this ridiculous blog entry. Its primary objective remains simple – to excavate ‘neutral truth’.

Realism or Fairy Tale?
I have a confession. The plot for my novel has a ‘happy ending’. I can’t tell you how much this bothers me. It seems, somehow, a betrayal of my somewhat cynical nature. Let’s face it – happy endings are, well, like twee fairytales that contradict empirical evidence suggesting that, invariably, quite the opposite is true. Personally, I can’t say I’ve noticed any universally-prevailing, benevolent system of justice or creator of happy endings. But then, should I be dealing with realism in a work of fiction? Erm, yes it needs to be realistic and credible, but no it’s not real. Even the bad guys in the plot end up confronting their nemesis. That’s not real either. Did Joseph Stalin or any other despot face theirs? I guess that my neutral truth isn’t so neutral afterall. I must be guilty of nurturing hope…


Farewell and chin-chin!
Allow me to leave you with the synopsis of my novel before I loose the bally plot. My next blog will take the form of a rather risqué little number about the perils of modern policing. It’s a fairly dark satire, I’m afraid. Anyway, it’s about time I called for Jeeves since my glass appears to be suffering from ‘premature evaporation’. I only hope that his foreign gentleman caller won’t detain him from his more pressing contractual obligations regarding his employer’s whims...

Have fun and be nice.
Edwin B, x


‘Touching Base’ by Edwin Black ©

A satire, Touching Base tells the story of Winston Grub, an ex-jailbird no-hoper with a nightmare job, an alcohol problem and a penchant for Voltaire. Whilst struggling to make sense of his drink-sozzled existence, he’s tormented by a ghoulish mob of conniving work colleagues who secretly uncover his criminal past.

As Winston sprawls from one calamity to the next, he discovers unlikely allies in a mystic, sexually rapacious flatmate and a drug-addled lover. Despite their counsel, he remains haunted by memories of a…‘crime’ that he’s struggling to reconcile himself to.
However, just when he believes things can’t possibly get worse, an old adversary, Detective Inspector Walton, begins a tireless vendetta to put him back behind bars.

Faced with rabid bigotry, loss of privacy and death threats, Winston grows increasingly indignant as he realises a paradox; he can’t vindicate himself from crimes others are convinced he is yet to commit. As he shadowboxes these unknowns and his life disintegrates, he is driven to perpetrate an outrageous and debased act of revenge. When repercussions follow, his workplace becomes embroiled in scandal, public outcry and litigation.

However, as the police dragnet closes in, Inspector Walton begins to suspect Winston of instigating this odious felony and becomes hell-bent on ensnaring him at any cost - even if this means falsifying evidence.

In an explosive final showdown, overshadowed by accusations of terrorism and sexual perversion, Winston is ultimately compelled to confront his demons. But can he truly embrace those painful home truths and begin the ascent to a better self?

Note:
The events and characters in the Touching Base are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is purely coincidental. Views and opinions expressed therein do not necessarily reflect those of the author. A copy of Chapter 1 is available on request or visit: http://www.oneandother.co.uk/participants/Edwin (chapter within somewhere).