Friday, June 4, 2010

Different Masks






In a desire to show the universe that I haven’t been entirely blocked over time, I’ve decided, for a bit of fun, to put up my novel Davey Ribbon on the interwebs in installments.

Many years ago – probably during the 90’s I thinking - it would have been unthinkable to have your unpublished novel displayed for any individuals to read in such an intimate and prolific setting. The tales were carried around in the fabled ‘trunk’ – or existed on a floppy disk. Why not take advantage of this tech and broadcast that ‘dreaming awake’ state a bourgeoning writer carries around with him or her all the time?  

As it currently stands, Davey Ribbon is around four hundred pages. The material you see online is raw and un-edited … but that’s what I love about working on it: it’s the first thing put to page that feels like celluloid in its construction (albeit without any collaboration) – with dozens of scenes having been deleted or re-written, and ‘The End’ written on two separate occasions only to be erased and continued. So, have a read and tell me what you think. It’s not in sequential order so forgive me for making you scroll down.

Many submissions have taken place recently and it seems I'm finally getting my shit together. These include Midnight Echo 5, Afterburn SF, the latest Chizine competition, and also the AHWA one. Even if no results are yielded it sure feels good to be in the game and submitting regularly ...  

I’m writing this on Saturday June the 5th. A few days ago, my Tonkinese cat had to be put to sleep. Oscar and I had been inseparable for thirteen years and it was an agonizing decision to make: although relatively healthy in all outward appearances his large intestine had been playing havoc for years, causing unfathomable constipation that not even daily doses of syrup could remedy. It’s strange to think how much they are entwined in your life: he was here, by my side, for every word written at this desk, every guitar riff written on the chair next to me, every good and bad movie – and every episode of The Simpson’s repeated hundreds of times. We know they are mortal and their span is diminished compared with ours. That notion, however, does not salve the pain when the advent occurs. I’ll miss you greatly my old friend, and even if I live to be an old man I’ll still remember you fondly as the greatest being I knew on this side of the veil …

2 comments:

  1. Matthew I think this is a brilliant idea - I think writing is so much more about the process than the end product.

    You know how I feel about Oscar and what a observation you make - they are so much a part of us and also I note that we realise this even more so when the are gone. I have a strong feeling you will attract a new friend into your life very soon to accompany on your journey and be beside you - word by word.

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  2. Only just noticed that comment. Thankyou. Your beginning to feel like an old friend.

    Matt.

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