So in my last entry (read here) I was lamenting my inability to write a silly fanfic, to just have fun with something established like I once enjoyed immensley.
I can’t.
Point one the story is massive, and keeps growing – feeding off itself. More and more characters come and go, minor and major. And I am thinking of merging it with the semi done, abandoned story of ‘phoenix reborn’, and take characters and concepts from there, because they feel born to be here instead. The phoenix project was abandoned because i kept it witin the ‘monsters’ mold, and had to stick these 6 characters in there, and that was what killed it. I simply wrote myself into a corner because of that, no character could be used to move forth, and I couldn’t even go back and fix it because i can’t see how.
Now I did actually make my life easier, with starting to redo the phoenix project with other names, and a huge worldbuilding effort. And that is what I will be taking, well some of it – because in many ways they are revolving around some of the same themes. No need for me to discover the wheel really, when i can just steal my own shit and flip it.
But this also means that this project will neither fit into the fanfiction box, or the monsters box – And while Anne and I have not found time to chat for a while, I am thinking of perhaps it would make sense to merge the stories in monsters as a ‘flashback’ type story, but as one story. And perhaps have other non related to the 6 characters, but still within the ‘monster inside’ thrope in the book – because that is after all what the collection is about, sans the concept of the characters.
I did think of renaming characters, so the two stories i have would be their own beasts – but as I said, we need to talk about this for serious. It makes no sense that I have stories that are years old just laying there, and so does she – all because we wanted a concept, that I failed to complete (yep it is on me), because i can’t seem to finish the last damn story.
I do have the funeral lullaby story, and I will of course finish it if we decide to stick to the concept, I might need some test readers to help me out with moving forth, I mean it is actually fucking done, but I can’t make up my mind on the big ‘why’ does this chracter do this. As it is now, it makes no sense, and so i had to move on to other projects for a while. I mean it’s nonsensical to the point of leaving me with ‘it was a dream,’ or ‘psycho’ tropes. And I really don’t want to use either if I can avoid it.
So this post is mostly to say that I have decided to let this project ‘nocturnes’ live it’s own life and see what happens. Even if I am bummed out that I lost that fanfic vibe, I should perhaps still thank it for the shaky birth of this story. I won’t exclude that I can save one of the two first attempts, which is just left on my google drive as an unwanted turtle in a park.
Nocturne is french for ‘of the night’ but in this case it has a dual meaning (it’s me writing, so of course it has a dual meaning)
Now it needs a tiny bit of explanation, because my dad was a very talented blues musician, and loved music very much, me and my sadly estranged sister on my fathers side, are not, were not, and will probably never be very musically gifted – i chose to play bas because my dad said it was ‘guitar for retards’ – it was my biggest fuck you to play punk bas. But he did teach me music, and I have great respect for classical music, and don’t only know how to read music, but listen to it often when writing or reading. So this is why the duality makes sense to me at least, so…
A Nocturne is a specific type of classical music, it is a short piece written for evening (as the name indicates), it’s a stand alone piece that in the 1900reds were popular for relaxing, or dining in the evening – so basically the precurser to lounge music. haha
The most famous Nocturne is ofcourse Chopin’s Nocturne in E flat major (google it, you know it when you hear it). I am a Mozart girl, but his attempt at making Nocturne isn’t for me. Erik Satie made som Nocturnes that I love and adore (even if he is mostly known for his Gnosiennes, which is also amazing).
And why am I saying this? well besides the fact that a Nocturne is writting to be played at night, Chopin’s 21 nocturnes were written for a woman. Imagine that! Some of the most famous music in the world is dedicated to you. Do you have something decidated to you? I have a handful of lame poems, and that is in all honesty more than most.
And perhaps it’s because I am in a calm, good place in my life. I have come to terms with what I am, why I am. And I am completely at peace with myself that I even write that story.
So the title was basically born from the fact that the main character is a prostitute, pretty crude I know. But you know, prostitutes are people too, I happen to have known (and still do) several. They want what everyone wants, a place to hide and feel safe and loved – but finding that place is hard if life. And perhaps I am exorcising my own demons of youth as well – well I know I am.
Writing this story I know that the lead character will never find his ‘home’ because people like us don’t. He keeps repeating a saying, which is something I was told in my youth too, and have lived by that ever since, as the words rang true then, and still does to this day.
“people like us never stop running, and always have an exit.”
Roughly translated of course, and with an exit I don’t mean suicide, though it could be read as such. No it’s more like always be ready to change direction, formulate a new plan. It’s somehow very Focault’esque, you know – The reason people get power over you, is because you let them.
It is a weird catch 22 thing, because when I got divorced I lost so much, like my best friend, the future I thought would be, and my shield from the world, and had to wake up in a reality where my soulmate was not real, what I thought was our future, our achievement – was worth nothing at all, and just a dream in my head. Now I did see it coming, and I was the part who filed for divorce to begin with, but that doesn’t take the grief and loss away. Because after all, a divorce is just paper, I lost all that before I ended our marriage.
And then? Then I hit the ground running never looking back.
It is a lonely way to live, but if you are anything like me, formed by life when it shows it’s teeth, you know we are always guests in someone elses life, always waiting for the small signs that you outstayed your welcome.
We shine with a special bright light, and a intensity that blinds most. It is the inherent urge in man to control which cannot be controlled. Like a nuclear plant, we control the atoms and they make us energy. Untill we are reminded that we just caged them, we didn’t control them. It is the same story over and over, like we know how to fuck, but not how to make love. for many years I said that we are mimics, we walk among you – but we are nothing like you.
And I do know how utterly insane that sounds, but really it’s not. Damaged children grows up to be damaged adults – period. Think of it this way, if you eat poached eggs on toast every day, and someone tells you ‘honey that is eggs benedict’ – you now know it has a name, but it’s still a damn egg on toast to you. I thnk that is the best way I can describe it
I find my demons are like little boxes, safekeeping my swansong. They tell a tale of failures, dead dreams and the deepest lonliness. But they also tell a tale of victories, love and beauty. And perhaps that is why people like me keep running, perhaps we are lucky enough to find someone along the road that share our pain and dream – cherish it, drown in it for a little while, and then feed it to your demons, that way it won’t be tainted. That way you can take it out and look at it, hold it tight and know that someone, at some point, thought you were worth it.
But sometimes lifting the lid and letting my demons sing, feels so fucking good. I hide it behind fiction and unreal events – but they are there, I know what part is them, and what part is lie. And that is the beauty, that is therapy in it’s purest form. Like something something old, something new and something borrowed – A fucked up marriage of lies and truth for entertainment.
Having said all of this, please know that when I write, or should you ever read Nocturnes (if i finish it) – I am not the main character, you can’t compare any of it to my personal experience in life. What I am trying to say is that my demons help me write it, they know what it’s like to be abandoned and unloved. But what the character does with that, is a complete fictive scenario.
I think the only thing that is relatable 1:1 for me, is more on a philisophical level so to speak. Like the metaphors of wolves and rabbits. This is something I learned the hard way is true, but in the story it is presented as a entire concept.
Wolves are those who do unto others, as has been done to them. They pretend to have no guilt, no shame – they are survivors, twisted into something else, something that cannot feel anymore. Always alert, always on the hunt for weakness or innocense to exploit. Destroyers of dreams, and betrayers of trust.
Rabbits are those fearful ones who have been hunted, they are agile, fast and always know where they can hide, alwys has an eye on the exits available because they know they cant fight a wolfpack. They are skittish and lost – the purpose forgotten and is only trying to survive. Rabbits rarely gets cornered, and almost never walk into a trap – they are much too alert for that.
Lambs are the ones who either break right away, and just accepts their fate. They are pushed around and obeys because they have lost their own will. they stick to other lambs because there is safety in numbers. However that is not always true, and lambs often meet a terrible end – exploited by wolves.
Rabbits with fangs/claws – they are masters of deception, they can pretend to be wolf and lamb both. But are none of them, often they pretend to be lambs only to sprint for the exit when the wolves close in – and leave the ones whom it swore allegience to, to die.
These are all, in a metaphorical sense of course, people I knew and know – and of course I myself is counted among them. This is exactly what I mean with lifting the lid to my demons.
Perhaps Nocturnes is my ode to all things ugly I know hide in us all. And when everything is shaved down to the nude – we’d all gnaw off our leg to get out of the trap, or die trying.
I did write up a ‘addendum’ to this blogpost, but I will leave that to simmer for a little, since it’s very personal and I have to think about if I want to post it or not.
DREAMS OF A LOST MOONCHILD 
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