So over the last few weeks I have been editing a short story I’ve been writing. I have been over, under, around, through and back through the thing about five times. So today, with my laptop that overheats in winter let alone summer I sat in a sweltering room and put in my final edits. So now I have sent it to a mate for a final read through, which I assume will come back with hundreds of edits, but oh well.
So now I’ve finished I kind of hoped that I would be elated and ready to get going on the next story that I have lined up and to my joy I was. I’ve jumped straight back on the horse and started my new story, about a minor character who I mentioned in the last story. I love who that happens, you write a character and think they are really interesting so you end up writing a whole book about them.
This who thing had got me thinking about inspiration and the metaphorical ‘muse’. I find it interesting where different people get their thoughts and ideas from. I find that I get mine from within my own writing or the people I know well. I rarely find a situation or a landscape can give me an idea for a scene or story but people are a constant source of inspiration for me. Indeed, I think it far to say that in all the things I have written every single character is based on a particular person or an amalgamation of two of three people I know.
A funny thing about writing about people that you know though is that I sometimes find myself projecting my feelings about my characters onto my friends and visa versa. This might get me into trouble one day but I hope it won’t. I remember chatting to a friend a month or two ago while I was still in Exeter and asked her how her brother Sammy was… It was a great conversation for the simple fact that she doesn’t have a brother but she played along for at least ten minutes before I twigged.
Anyway here is a short extract from the story I just finished editing; it is the part which refers to the character who will take centre stage in my next story.
“There are many tales from within the elven communities that there once lived a woman who fathered the wolves whom the vampires use as slave; tales of a woman who is even older than I am and for whom life is no longer a linear entity; a woman who is so beautiful that she could tame a starved jackal. This woman was so old and travelled that she no longer remembered her true name; some even say she had no name for she was never actually born. Legend has it that this woman has played a part in every major event on Earth since the dawn of the Ancient Egyptian civilisation some seven-thousand years ago. My father told me once that he had met a woman who may have been party to at least one of these legends and that one day I would meet this same woman. He told me that she was the wisest of elves and that she had taught him a great many things. He told me when she came I would have no doubt about who she was. He told me her name also, Ledacia.
She arrived at my sister’s wedding as a guest of Susanna’s having been a consultant for dance at the school. She too had set up various schools of dance on many of the new colonies; she specialised in the form called Ballet. I had heard both of the girls speak of her many times but always by the name Irisi and it was by this name that Susanna introduced her to us.”
So as you might imagine the next story is going to be at least mildly EPIC!!!! And lets hoe I don’t project this character onto anyone else they might have rather a lot to live up to.
Before I go to sleep here is one fantastical thought for you which came to me while I was writing this. What would the world be like if the worlds most treasured people were ‘muses’.