Day 21 of #ayearofwriting and I am back with the Mausu story, making some tint corrections and holding myself back from doing too many big ones. I need to make some lines clearer, some images crystal but not to much to make the story a trip in to telling rather than showing.
Day 22 of #ayearofwriting that is all.
Day 25 of #ayearofwriting and this evening I am making notes, plotting conflict and being all noir. Well, certainly in the photo filter stakes. Sometimes you need a little perspective and distance from the things you are writing, so you can question and get the big red pencil to make necessary answers.
Day 26 of #ayearofwriting and the climate change denier is the root of my story now. The suburbanite in Hurley, down the river from Windsor, and watching the neighbours move out because of a little rain. The oddity is not the denial but the fact that he is hiding something, something has happened between him and his wife, and he isn’t talking about it. The problem is, I haven’t figured out what has happened yet and he’s not at a stage to tell me. I am slightly worried.
I think about a world to come
Where the books were found by the Golden ones
Written in pain, written in awe
By a puzzled man who questioned
What we came here for
All the strangers came today
And it looks as though they’re here to stay
– Oh! You Pretty Things by David Bowie (1971)
I drop this into a document and decide to put the date of release on, then my next page simply says 2135, and I am struck by the juxtaposition of dates and the flood maps. I am considering the cults in this society, in a world that is increasingly hot. I drive home from work and listen to the song, and I feel afraid, I feel it is necessary to write this novel and it has to be based in the North because by this time, there will only be a North, the south will have ceased to exist. This is not scaremongering, it is simple science, the world is melting and my story is about the boiling point. I want to thank Tiffani Angus who in her email got me considering the story more rather than the science, rather than the landscape. Though I can write bloody good landscape.
Day 28 of #ayearofwriting and the location for my story comes out of Three Men in Boat, I consider The Thames and the projected flooding and I am drawn to Hurley Weir and Magpie Island – I remember that in the book they put down on such an island but I think this was at Runnymede on Magna Carter Island – but the insistence of Magpie Island and the idea of bad/good luck sticks with me. Yet, I find myself drawn to flood maps of London and consider what it will be like further to the west in the land of my story as the last great deniers cling on as the gates and dykes are breached. For I know that in the end, London will try to hold on as long as it can because the capital though in a bubble, stands for an ancient idea, the idea of what our culture means and when it falls, it will be the end of our nation as we become island states. All this is being thrown into the mix on my novel.
‘I have told Charlotte to up her security, spy cameras have lowered our home insurance and made a damn impact on those thinking of getting in because any facial recognition is sent straight to the new branch of the police and army, the water-men; smart, officious and dealing out penalties on the spot.’