. Spinning .

It’s Day #87 of the 100 Days Project. Day #16 of 24/7. And, Week #16 I believe of the 52/250 Challenge. So I’ve been writing my fanny off this summer.

Meanwhile, I’m putting together an essay on Magical Realism using some stories by fellow Fictionaut writers. It’s been one of my favorite genres to read and with all the writing of flash fiction the past couple of months, I’ve dipped my own pen into the inkwell to practice this whole new world of story.

A few of the stories out of this effort have been selected for publication, and one just came out today at the Blue Print Review, Issue #25. My story is called “Descriptions” and it was one of my favorites that Dorothy Lang happened to read and snap up. I’m excited that one of the Pittsburgh images is up on the Author’s Notes page, and another will be included with one of the other stories by many talented writers in this issue.

Also focusing on going back over my years of postings and presentations on hypertext in Storyspace and Tinderbox to help clarify a writer’s position on using this fabulous form.

It’s been a busy, productive summer this year and it’ll likely be a busier fall.

The publishing of my latest hypertext, Blueberries in the Fall 2009 issue of the highly respected New River Journal.

Thought I already had posted on this exciting event but realized I’d only tweeted and Facebooked it:

(Click on the image for more information)

It’s going to be an informal, pajama-party-friendly gathering of great minds and minds that do great things with hypertextual software and concepts, as Mark says, “a weekend-long writers colony for electronic literature.” It sounds like it’s going to be exciting, informational, and fun!

Yeah, it’s got to feel right. If it feels good, do it, so they say. And as I suspected, even with all the personal enthusiasm for hypertext narrative, the creative flow open full blast, and the best of intentions to get something accomplished before year end, I don’t think NaNoWriMo is right for me.

For one thing, I’m not a groupie type person. If there’s real camaraderie and team support–and there could be here, though I don’t seem to find a group compatible with my own interests and I sure as hell don’t need to be a team cheerleader again–it could be fun. But there seems to be a huge number of fantasy genre, youth-oriented, starry-eyed or ego-driven participants among the serious writers but none interested at all in hypertext form.

Which brings me to the second point, that my main purpose of gaining some interest in hypertext and new media doesn’t seem to be a likely prospect. No one’s really responded to two inquiries in the forums. Judging by the forum discussions, I’m not fitting in real well with the attitude of writing nor the experience.

And, back to my original reluctance to join this over the past several years, I still don’t like that “push the words out, don’t worry if it’s crap, it’s word-count that matters, kill your inner editor, blah, blah” that may work for some writers, but it sure doesn’t appeal to me as a skillful approach to a craft.  Hell, I’m constantly editing and though I find it more likely to be written decently the first time than it used to be, it’s more from the editing phase of the experience (and from reading well-written literature) than from pushing words out.

So while I’m signed up at NaNoWriMo, and still have a week to make up my mind, I’m not thinking that I’m going to be participating. Besides, I still don’t have a story concept, November’s my busy time at the shop, and my neck and back are still screwed up from the summer’s 100 Days Project to feel real excited about taking part.

In this case, methods of working up funding for a project that someone may feel passionate about but can’t get others interested in backing.

Led by the notorious Anne (who has more skills at tunneling through the web than a mole underground) to Kickstarter, which seems to be a place to lay out your idea and hope for some promises of dollars to help you get started. This one, for example, caught my eye because it’s so close to what I took part in with the 100 Days Project: 50 Characters in 50 Weeks, spiels the maker, is,

“…an exploration of humanity. It’s an exploration of acting and storytelling, but also of what it is to be human. There are lots of laughs, there are some tears. There are nice people and mean ones, but none of them are two-dimensional. Each film is designed to transport you, to make you laugh, think, and feel, if only for a few minutes… and I’m trying to create fifty of them in a year.”

Hi, my name is Brent Rose. I’m an actor, writer, and film-maker, and I’m working on the toughest project of my life. I am trying to create fifty short films in under a year. The project is called 50 Characters in 50 Weeks (or “50in50″).

An ambitious endeavor, and as of this moment, he’s got $1748 collected with 44 backers and 26 days to go.

What then, can I promise in return for some cash to fund CD’s and a website on hypertext stories? This is a possibility to get this project off the ground, not just for the money–which would take it above the personally-funded hokey stage to a more professional level–but for the chance to generate interest in the hypertext medium.

Ach, more thinking to do.

While I’ve still not recovered from the 100-Day project to get back on track with reading and reviewing literature here, tonight along with five of the 14 participants I will be presenting a brief talk on the creative process.

Relaxing today, mentally coming down from a three-month routine that included anxious waiting for inspiration from 5:00 a.m. for a couple hours until a more reasonable hour of deliverance. From straining the brain for a new path of story through trails of possibilities. From learning more about code to development of narrative through color, pattern, choice, anticipation of reader input.

I don’t know that I’ve inspired anyone to try reading or writing hypertext fiction–except perhaps for Mary Ellen–and that was one of my own main goals, aside from the experimentation and learning of fiction first, hypertext second and all the extra bonuses that come with an undertaking of this sort.

But I do know I studied and learned daily from reading, watching, comprehending the artistic processes extended by the others in the group:

From Steve, the courage of going behind doors, into the corner, to leap given boundaries to find story and then sit and pick at the words.

From Carianne, to see things in a different way, to pull apart the strands of life and look inside for the colors.

From Mary Ellen, the indelible drawing of character by noticing the details of their interaction, their reaction, their actions.

From Maggie, the setting and environment of the story is just as important as the character and object.

From Susan, that the most intimate and common familiar items offer a match to the most wildly imaginative story.

From Neha, the power of poetry to produce using familiar language in unfamiliar settings to create an image.

From John, that story can cry, can holler in jubilation of sound, and that point of view changes angle of story.

From Denna, that an image can be so pronounced even when pulled from the vaguest of references when experienced by details.

From Mindy, that nature is in a constant state of narrative that changes with light and wind to tell a different tale every day.

From Jessica, that using the same medium and the same subject can offer at the very least 100 new angles if one seeks them.

From Jim, that code is a living thing that can be taught to dance.

From Steve K., that the planning is a part of the beauty of the process of building.

To them all I give thanks for the ability to watch and learn and wish them all lovely days of wild creativity.

While I’ve had the best of intentions, it’s obvious that I’ve little time to read the past couple of months. But what’s better than reading? Only writing, and that I’ve been doing dawn till hours after dusk.

We’re at day #51 in the 100 Days Project and I’m working on that fifty-first short story in hypertext form right now. Over at Hypercompendia I’ve posted some thoughts as we reach the midpoint of the effort. To be more personal here about my own work, I’ve found that I can respond to deadlines; I can come up with a new idea every day; I can follow prompts or be inspired by outside forces; I can write humor, mystery, contemporary, poetical prose, change voice, braid stories, and most importantly, learn something new every day both about story form and hypertext.

Though I am still reading as much as possible, possible seems to be near zilch with gardening, housework and job all screaming for attention. I’ve been really tempted several times to back out of this 100-day project deal for lack of time, lack of group support, and lack of being able to bend my left ring finger. In the end, this is more than an important exercise for me, it is a step forward in a plan to create a website dedicated to hypertext fiction for all ages. A free site where there will be a library of short stories, poems, and visual graphics all in the hypertext format that will be added to on a regular basis by writers and artists willing to share their work in order to generate more interest in the hypertext form by example and instruction.

So that’s were I’ve been. Not lazy, not dropping out of sight here on Spinning, but dedicating my creative energy and time to a project I think will blossom into more than just some summer stories.

In the middle of this 100 Days Project I’d like to point out that our chief storyteller here has just been published in the latest issue of the literary journal online,  #10 Drunken Boat.

Steve Ersinghaus‘ piece titled That Night, is hypertext poetry. Steve’s hypertext is a beautifully spun piece of eloquence and imagery and employs beyond the usual hypertext format the element of stretchtext which enhances the interpretation of the piece through visual effects. Kudos as well to James Revillini for his work in jQuery on this.

I’m hoping that more and more people realize the abilities of hypertext and overcome their fear and preconceived notions of seeing hypertext in narrative poetry and story as distractive elements and take the time to enjoy this exciting new trend in reading.

I did a whole presentation on this at Hypertext 2008 in Pittsburgh last year: story wants to be laid out not according to the writer’s whim, but rather where it wants to go on its own. Of course, before the web and hyperlinks, we didn’t have the choice of hypertext versus traditional linear story. There were the options of form however in prose, poetry, etc.

With the 100 Days Project I am writing a story a day in hypertext form. Neha is doing story in poetry. Mary Ellen is doing writing character sketches, others are contributing photography, watercolor, script, and meals.  Steve is doing linear text story.

Now there are many times I’m writing something that seems to want a straight linear–and it’s hard to use the term linear here because non-hypertexted story needn’t be linear–and I either have to stop and think about it or squeeze it out as best I can. This is forcing it into a form which the story doesn’t necessarily need to be.  There is a third option that I’ve taken a couple times: dump the story and start a new one.

I’m guessing that just as I come upon stories that want to be straight, Steve imagines a few that want to be hypertext. He’s proficient at either and once you have the tools, it’s always a part of the initial conception of story. One thing that’s helped me keep in a hypertext frame of mind is creating a base map of story in Tinderbox with writing spaces based on the average (about 16 with a half dozen smaller links to inspire intersections). This serves as a blank piece of paper or monitor in the hypertext version of writing.

It does get easier as one becomes immersed in the style to maintain that style of story; I find myself reading a paperback novel looking for links.

Been spending most of my waking hours writing hypertext short stories and often there’s a need to remind myself I’m a writer–or at lease I’m supposed to be writing down stories. There are several methods I use to bring myself back into the black depths of writing, but one of them is to read one of the previous hypertext stories–up to #34 done out of 100 planned–and get myself back in the mood as well as copyedit what I may have missed before. I’m noticing a lot of double “a” or “the” and I laugh because it usually comes prior to an adjective or an action verb where I either don’t know what’s coming or I’m trying to think of a better way of saying it. Then when it hits, the fingers automatically type the article before the word.

In going back over yesterday’s story and comments, I realized that in rereading I had completely forgotten a line of the story and thus didn’t even answer the question of what was in the pastrami. So I came upon this, and maybe found out:

He went home not wanting to believe she’d been taken. He would never be able to eat anything again.”

After fiddling with a new theme and layout in css, I finally am getting down to the business of writing out today’s flash fiction hypertext. There’s a pretty specific starting point for the story because in this case (for the 100 Day Project) we read Steve’s story and float away in different directions from there. I read the story once quickly and note down what might get me going, from today’s story:

PLOT
Pushing the envelope
Gullibility
Mob mentality
Social Networking communication methods
Morality/social norms
Protagonist changes in facing 1st conflict

Plot made the biggest impression on me in this since one thing led to another in the typical cause and effect manner. But this guy was outrageous, and his actions escalated until someone questioned him–the hair being a metaphor certainly for more meaningful actions.

It would seem that the underlying themes of the story might also be mob mentality, and the public’s willingness to believe any b.s. they read or perhaps just how the media influences us, the ignorant public. How mistakes are forgotten, how far we can be pushed. So it may be a moralistic tale as well. One meant to provoke into looking at one’s own reality as pointed out in fiction.

I may read the story a couple of more times if something doesn’t scream out at me to be written. Then I find it and go from there.

In the 100 Days Project, Steve Ersinghaus generously shared two versions of a story to show how the writing process works to sometimes show us when we get bogged down and how to turn the story around by approaching it in a different way. Some of the other participants showed us dual examples as well as to what works and what doesn’t.

In my own hypertexts, I don’t edit the way I do in straight text, although I have dumped a couple of stories, I usually play with what I have since the structure is a large part of the work and a lot of the effort in creating the narrative. So I don’t have a way of showing a story that didn’t make it.

But I thought about it in between bouts of inspired moments and played with Tinderbox to show a visual of a story that doesn’t work:

I’ve been having some fun within the frame of intense work in writing a hypertext story each day for a grand total of one hundred through the summer if I can manage to keep it up. Even if I don’t, I’ve been forced to learn and relearn elements of story through the deadlines and the desire to come up with something new, something fresh and different than whatever I’ve been doing before.

The real roadblocks for me here are the inexperience with working within the hypertext format so each story needs double duty thinking. On top of that is the process of exporting each work into .html form and ensure that’s it’s working online. Sometimes in changing the titles, colors, etc. from one story to the next, a simple semi-colon goes missing, or a link has lost a character and it ends up pointing mid-story to an Error 404 page. Then there’s a lot of detective effort and time in tracking it down. The final kicker: I get to read it online in presention form and get itchy to edit. That takes several clicks to open the server page for the files and wait- we’re not done–make the changes to the hard drive .html file and the Tinderbox version as well.

So in the last couple of days, just when I was about to throw in the towel, inspiration came in the form of magical realism; a fun thing to do when story gets too serious and too formal. I tend to get “Byzantine” with words sometimes and overly explanatory and magical realism lets you cut that off at the pass. It’s a “because I say so” tool for the writer, somewhat like freeform poetry where the creative force negates most (not all) stringent and smothering restrictions on writing. It makes it more fun.

Been doing some short–8 to 10 lexias–hypertext stories and while much of the basic elements of writing are of course the same, some things to point out the differences.

In hypertext, there is a movement between segments of reading that in some cases might simulate turning a page. There’s one quirk however in hypertext; one normally will, after reading a writing space, will finish by looking at the entire space as a whole, as an image. Whether looking for links or just as a finished area, the space being smaller than a page, we look at it as something that we will be leaving behind, knowing the nature of hypertext is to move forward. But isn’t that what we do with a page of a book as well? We have no intention of rereading a page again, yet don’t have the same feeling of leaving it in the past. Is it the physical property of a paper page then that dispels that reluctance to leave it behind?

There’s another thing I’ve noticed–and much of this I’ve previously covered in a presentation on how hypertext changes the writer–and that is the relative freedom the need for concise sentences proposes to the writer. Can restriction offer freedom? Yes, in that it eliminates much of the unnecessary detailing of movement and environment that we try to keep out of all of our writing. In a post today, Steve Ersinghaus notes how his attention is drawn to the best use of each word and sentence and element to force them into doing double duty.

Likewise, in White Dwarf, conflict is “suggested” or “restricted” by dialogue, the source of which the reader can infer.

“Look how the water explodes from the sole’s of his sneakers after he walks through puddles on stormy days. They needed four grown men to pull him from the concrete he stepped into. The ferry rides low, you know the work day’s done.”

In this section, I was trying to get a large amount of data to the reader with as little narrative insulation as possible, using dialogue as the sole device of carrier of conflict, character, and time.

Each writing is an experience and yet there is so much more to learn.