i. There many true paths - but even a true path can lead one in the wrong direction.
ii. Imposing order on a path is certain to result in frustration, as constrained paths will tend to revert to nature in unexpected ways.
iii. One must be careful while walking their path, and ever vigilant.
iv. Following one path, however well understood, should never completely quell a hunger to seek out new paths.
v. Information is never all good nor all bad, and learning all that is knowable, while on their path, is the true reward for journeying.
i. The path stretching before one may fork in unexpected ways, and only through careful consideration should the choice of direction be taken.
ii. There are always signs, subtle and discreet, which must be confronted, considered, contemplated, questioned, and understood.
iii. Some signs will be troubling to understand, and some will shake beliefs, though signs are neither good nor bad.
iv. One must accept all things for what they are.
v. False doctrines must be disregarded - only self-aware and conscious actions can reap the benefits of knowledge.
i. Paths are difficult to stay on if the traveller has no sense of direction, and treacherous if one knows the destination but not their way.
ii. It is better to hew a fresh path than it is to walk in one determined by others when one begins a journey, but they must take heed not to get lost.
iii. Knowing the lay of the land is preferable to blindly following the footsteps of others unquestioningly.
iv. Walking a path built on unsound foundations will result in disappointment and frustration. Shoring up a path with solid and material foundations is essential to a safe journey.
v. A foolish man can stumble onto the correct path unknowingly, and a wise man can leave it voluntarily.
i. The path will not always be clear, and must be actively sought out in the dark.
ii. It is in the darkest nights that staying on the correct path is most important.
iii. Do not trust in Gods to light the way - one must struggle to approach their brilliance.
iv. No-one will save the honest traveller - they must take responsibility for their own path seriously, trusting only themselves for safe travels.
v. To be successful of the path is to accept the universe and all its wonders, and not call on that which might lend assistance in times of need.
"Respect Buddha and the Gods without counting on their help."
Saint Miyamoto Musashi.
The Path isn't easy to explain without understanding what went into it's planning, and what I brought to it later. It remains a singular expression of a concept, removed entirely from anything comparable, and has had so much created for it that it almost defies any clear discussion. While it might be described, in the abstract, as a multiple-pathway narrative, with philosophical underpinnings to the choices a reader is presented with, there's a great deal of additional information which would - over the course of multiple read-throughs - have challenged the notion that it was simply replicating digitally what had already been done in print.
It’s surprisingly easy for people to overlook my propensity for adding in odd references within my writing. Some will discount a line lifted from a seventeenth century scientist as a character's odd dialogue choice, rather than being an explicit nod to theories posited. others might not think anything of the choice at all, and the few who fully comprehend any such allusion tend to be annoyed at my misrepresentation of historical documents - I've grown increasingly attached to adding these in, with proper citation, before a chapter, as Stephen King has done. Analecta sections are, sadly, by and large, a thing of the past, yet continue to hold great appeal in a world where modernity, and a rush for The New is all-consuming.
I've never been one to wholeheartedly embrace anything described as current, so it shouldn't come as a great shock to anyone that I would look to the novels of Victorian writers to find a style which feels perfectly natural to deploy.
Specific reference within my work to various aspects of philosophy is, however remarkably sparse, although I'll continue to throw in an odd line here or there. Mostly I'll deliberately ignore what has been repeated (painfully, and at length) over the past several hundred years, to hopefully find a new notion lurking within, largely untouched. There are a great many small details in various texts which, when one steps back and considers their implications, aren't really what they are presented as.
When I've pointed out that I read everything in my school's library, this isn't an exaggeration. It was never a deliberate choice to attempt this, more of a side-effect of needing (not wanting, but actually needing) to have a book in my hands when not engaged with other activity. Books on space travel, several atlases, The Bible, The Quran, a guide to Buddhism, a battered copy of Star Trek Annual 1973, the Mr. Men series, and - for reasons I'm not entirely certain of - several Haynes manuals. The rag-tag assortment of various publications on offer had a profound effect on my later book-buying, and even now I will never pass over a title merely because I don't read in that genre.
Incidentally, SF writers who patently refuse to consider reading romance titles, or horror, or some other genre, baffle me. It is impossible for me to grasp a reality in which I might be forced to forevermore be limited in my reading to single genre, and I find it unfathomable how anyone could so limit themselves. Various people over the years have waxed lyrically about titles which I have read, and considered derivative of older works in other genres, and seem incapable of understanding that there is a vast world of literature awaiting them if they deem it within their capability to look outside their preferred genre.
As noted, my taste for reading wasn't satiable with what offerings were present. Various bookshops, thereafter, became my home-away-from-home, and I managed to quickly discern between those which carried interesting works, and which were focused on a more mainstream audience - a simple glance at the median age of books within any used bookshop should tell you whether they are carrying titles intended to sell quickly, or have a real passion for obscure and undervalued tomes. Shops which found, through whatever majiks they performed, old and glorious titles of unknowable origin - often singular copies, of hitherto unheard of authors, of years gone by - were the best.
There is an argument to be made for having, in one's possession, titles which sit slightly outside of any general sense of belonging. While I have no particular interest in, nor any real need for, books about ducks, I own at least three titles dedicated to mallards, their biology, habitat, and behaviour. These have been present for so long that any oddity of owning them has long since passed, and I have, when some fact has been raised about these water-fowl, checked within these books to see if what has been mooted is, indeed, true. Their original purpose, if they ever had one, has long since been forgotten, and I happen to like these books despite any objection to their overall pointlessness. I'm unlikely to ever write, at length, about ducks (unless the ducks in question are named Donald or Daffy), but getting rid of them seems a needless act.
Reading widely - and not necessarily "well" - is important to anyone who considers themselves a lover of words.
When I have mooted that there is an artificiality to our understanding of genre, as it is, it is not to discredit those who see themselves as genre writers, but to enlighten readers that there isn't a precise, clear-cut line which marks a novel out as one thing or another. When we speak of a title being within the horror genre, it isn't to state that it shares anything in common with any other horror novel, but that some marketing choice within it’s publisher’s offices has deemed that the novel will perform better when emblazoned with the effects and marks of a horror title, irrespective if the author intended this to be the case or not.
Everything is subjective. There are no right answers.
Philosophy tomes get a bad press. Hack authors knocking out self-help books have clouded the perception of true philosophy in the minds of many, and distinction or purpose, inherent worthiness, and a book's objectives are often overlooked - simpler texts, which elucidate a particular core belief system are, perhaps, even worse for the market as a whole, readers being unable to separate them from simple entertainment. Real philosophy, looking at our world, and our actions, and asking important questions about our standing in the universe, our purpose, manners which we ought to encourage, and so on, are remarkably few and far between, the greater number regurgitating what has previously been published for a new audience.
There's something to be said for a book which challenges our perception of the world. Having my understanding of a subject be attacked, and mercilessly broken down into constituent parts, has been a delight, and there are acerbic writers who seem to know precise methods of getting to underlying truths. I'll always love Umberto Eco for this, which is why there's a great deal of his work in my collection. He's not viewed as being a writer of philosophy by some, but he could teach many readers, should they approach his work with an open mind, that their perception is not as acute and solid as they might believe. It's astonishing to think how long his writing has been with me now, having discovered him early, and having continued returning to his words over these years.
My fascination with machinery, also, has continued. I'm not going to place all this on titles which were encountered at an impressionable age, but having been exposed to the simplicity and beauty (yes, I use that word in relation to their type) of the Haynes manuals, I've gone on to purchase a considerable number. Large engineering works, too, seem to hold a wonder that isn't lessened by any understanding of their construction - indeed, several grand projects only become more amazing once full comprehension of their undertaking has been achieved - Lærdal Tunnel, a road through a mountain in Norway, has been stuck in my brain since learning of it. I don't know if there's anything about it which specifically scratches an itch, but knowing something like this exists is enough to keep aflame the hope in our species ability to cooperate to a common goal.
Novels shouldn't merely tell a story, or be limited to genre, but should struggle and pull away at any restriction imposed on them. Including snippets of historic writing, drawing on philosophy, accepting that there are things we cannot know without purposeful investigation of known information, and explaining technical detail are all facets which might be deployed. There's no correct answer to what is pertinent. We might, when approaching a work, state that something is not entirely connected to the rest of it's manuscript, but all such analysis is outwith any text itself. Attempting any modern analysis of Moby Dick, with all that has been said and written of proper narrative construction, of "showing your work" (a misunderstood mantra, at best), and of clear purpose, is a folly. Constant interjections in Victor Hugo's Les Misérables also, very probably, break modern understanding of "the novel."
If someone were to proffer their editor with a MSS which evoked either Moby Dick or Les Misérables, they would likely be told to keep editing, despite the fact that both titles are routinely placed in lists of greatest works. The very nature of these two books is to break our knowledge of a novel's structure, and start afresh, no moment spared for any thought of conformity nor a reader's ease - they attack the reader in several ways, for several reasons, always with purpose. I find returning to them, after reading both multiple times now, to be as refreshing as the first time. Both are essential works.
Influence gets raised a great deal when talking about specific creations. It is easy - and, if we are to be completely honest here, both lazy and inaccurate - to state that anything is informed entirely by a single work, and I feel uncomfortable seeing others state such unless that work is deliberately restrictive in scope, derivative of what has been previously published. It is hard to imagine that anyone would wish such inferences to be applied to their writing, and I feel conflicted when asked to describe what comparable works any art is related to, unless speaking in broad terms. The Path, especially, breaks with all that went before, and is unlikely (for several reasons) to ever be completed in a way initially imagined.
Whether I am discussing Resurrection, Decline + Fall, or some other project, I tend to describe them as being (broadly) within a genre (urban fantasy, and SF respectively), with elements of other genres liberally applied. Resurrection is, technically, mixed-media rather than being a "proper" novel, and attempting to explain it without examples is a fruitless and pointless exercise, riddled with the possibility of misunderstanding. These things continue to frustrate attempts at categorization, and will likely need to be published in some manner I have not yet considered, freed from traditional publishing constraints.
It's been noted that I am incapable of creating small-scale projects, though - over the last thirty years - most of my writing has been incredibly tight. It is only my personal projects which sprawl, stretch out, and prove to be immense in their scope, while my writing for others being suitably restrained. I don't think a single ‘phone game script came in at more than two thousand words, descriptions included, and all of my short stories, which have appeared within collections, were mercilessly cut and pushed into forms which suited the needs of others. When left to my own devices, and without any predetermined thought on presentation, I tend to become far less concerned with an end result.
It isn't just in literature where my tastes cross boundaries without concern, as my musical influences are similarly touched. It first became clear to me that most music was firmly within certain constraints when I heard the KLF's Justified and Ancient, with rap, country music, house, and pop sensibilities seamlessly blended together into a cohesive entity. It was a breakthrough moment for me, hearing that song play on radio, and it's mash-up sensibility would reverberate through my other purchases over the years - Black Grape and Gorillaz both took this concept of disparate elements drawn together for a singular purpose, along with numerous other bands, and created a bastard sub-genre where anything might be brought to bear.
This is probably where my specific obsession with Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex's theme, Inner Universe, with Origa's stunning vocals, arose. No musical genre really escapes my attention entirely, with vast swathes of CD's covering all manner of esoteric bands and singers: Arrested Development, John Coltrane, The Incredible Sting Band, Jayeshbhai Jordaar, No Need for a Name, Harshavardhan Rameshwar, The Rutles, Screamin' Jay Hawkins, Modest Mussorgsky, Shoukichi Kina, Snuff, and Frank Zappa are all equally important to my listening pleasure. It shouldn't be any surprise that there are also a great number of soundtracks present also, and it was Natural Born Killers' blend of a variety of styles which, for about two years, was a constant source of new bands and singers to discover from it's presentation.
I am a self-confessed magpie. I will take whatever works for me, discard everything else, and combine several entirely unrelated notions together to see if something of interest in a resultant combination might provide use or entertainment. Whether this is expressed in prose, is a visual work, or some piece of audio, isn't of great significance to me - what goes into this mix is, likewise, not especially obvious. There is very little I can point to, and state why, exactly, it speaks to me, the nature of appreciation for a work being slippery, prone to in-the-moment feeling, and utterly without logical thought applied to why there is any inherent appeal. If something works for me, it works. And of my own work…
Creation is a goal, not a process.
Having spent a ridiculous amount of time surrounded by a medium noted for it's visual component, I have largely avoided writing at any length on what is aesthetically appealing to me. There are places where I have noted a preference for black and white art to colour, and this holds true across a great deal of media I have provided glowing reviews - D'Israeli (Matt Brooker), Gary Spencer Millidge, and Bryan Talbot are my current go-to creators for their exceptional abilities, though in the past I have praised Jesús Blasco and Denis McLoughlin for spectacular displays of talent. Having noted a preference for a particular look, I'll happily read Doraemon all day long, given the opportunity, and Masashi Tanaka's Gon has been (for almost twenty-five years now) a rather special treat.
Backgrounds are as important as figure-work, and in Ryoichi Ikegami's art for Crying Freeman I discovered an appreciation for negative space which had, until reading that, been largely relegated to a consideration of page layouts. Seeing it brought to such amazing use in a narrative made something click in my brain, and now it is as vital as every other aspect of a visual landscape. Most of my art throughout the early 2000s took this to extremes, although I eventually learned a little restraint in it's application. Restraint, here, is probably an imprecise word. I can’t think of something more suitable, though.
I've never gone into detail on why I don't employ a more selective nature in what I read, listen to, or watch. I think - properly taking this moment to consider it - that I was born in a particular place and time, where all things were available, easily, where they could be purchased cheaply. Stall markets were filled with piles of kung fu films for a pound each, Manga Mania, from 1993, reprinting Akira across it's first thirty-seven issues, bhangra albums on cassette tapes selling for fifty pence each at a nearby record shop... Everywhere I turned there was something new and exciting, and I founf it impossible to restrict my purchases to what might be considered "safe bets" (read: known entities).
Indian comics, with blue-skinned characters walking about, and multi-armed goddesses, were sold in various places, and one could - knowing where to go - easily find handfuls of American underground comics from the sixties and seventies. There was a shop which mostly sold incense sticks of varied description, posters, and statues (largely being skull-faced figures in a number of poses, and engaged in various activities) which had the largest collection of foreign cassette tapes imaginable. It also sold an embarrassing number of Pogs, trading cards, collectible coins (Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles ones, purchased there, have, over the years, rusted), and all manner of *stuff*.
From the late eighties through to the early 2000s, in Britain at least, it was possible to build a collection of nearly any obscure and wondrous thing imaginable. There was a wealth of content sitting right out in the open, drawn from across the globe, and from all eras, presented to a young and impressionable kid whose mind was ripe for taking it all in. It's a wonder that I ever had any money, with all the delights on offer. There were, inevitably, some disappointments, such as a pair of Greek-language Lucky Luke reprint albums, which proved utterly indecipherable, and a few seventies graphic novels which... were of a dubious nature, and entirely inappropriate reading for a young teen. I also discovered Metal Hurlant at this time, which outweighs any of the less desirable revelations, so it all evened out in the end.
In 2011 or 2012, the precise date being largely irrelevant, I discovered The Principia Discordia, and immediately fell in love with it's bizarre, incomprehensible text.
Setting and location. Everything leading to something else.
All things brought me, inevitably, to this work, which set off a sting of - in retrospect, likely too obvious - writings which reflected this new addition to my arsenal of knowledge. There were barely hidden links to this document in other works, previously read, heard, and watched, whose origins were finally illuminated, and I began piecing together some of their references. It hadn't occurred to me that a great deal of what I previously enjoyed traced their lineage back to a single work, and in discovering The Principia Discordia I found that there was renewed interest in those properties.
In a similar way to how others had re-evaluated their output on the addition of a new piece of information, and included elements not normally found within their genre, or medium, I found myself looking at it's mixture of imagery and text, and pondering to what extent this could be pushed. I had come across numerous books which contained adverts by this point, as previously noted, and my appreciation on picture books aimed at younger readers hadn't waned, although the likes of Dave Thorpe's Doc Chaos: The Chernobyl Effect were far more potent. The longer I continued to ponder this blend of prose and imagery, the clearer it became that there shouldn't be arbitrary rules about what might be included within the text of a novel, and greater freedom to explore concepts might be permitted if such narrow thinking was pushed aside.
A depiction of some valuable stamp reproduced between chunks of text? Sure. A three-page comic strip in the middle of a novel? Why not?
It hasn't been explicitly noted anywhere, to my recollection, but there was a short period of time during which I held a strong aversion to novels which reproduced, precisely, the same image at the start of each and every chapter. This small mark of style always felt like the simplest, laziest option available to a creator, holding no appeal whatsoever. This always felt like a clearly missed opportunity, crying out for someone to take it and develop the notion into recurring imagery which shifted and altered with each subsequent depiction. Whenever I sat down to create my Great Work, I found that there were a multitude of things which I didn't particularly care for, which others seemed to hold sacrosanct.
Influence is not singular, and no specific thing, already extant, informed any of my thinking. Magpie, remember.
Despite it being a repeated - and demonstrable - fact, that nothing new can be created, I have always sought out opportunities which permitted at least some play. Rigid structure isn't something which I can work within for long without wishing to subvert, and in prose alone there wasn't enough freedom. Others would point, at this time, to House of Leaves by Mark Danielewski and The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman, as expressions in pure text which broke conventions - and I have, myself, applauded both of these works over the years - but I wanted to bring everything possibly available to the table. If I was to state that there was a single impetus here, it was pure creation being a goal in itself.
Order and Chaos are often depicted as belonging to opposite ends of a scale, with some transposing the words "good and bad" for them. Order is not good, and chaos is not bad, and in seeing that there needed to be change, I was fully devoted to the message of chaos in presentation. Creation, itself, is a kind of chaos, each draft of a novel being in some state of chaos, and by mentally separating notions of "order and chaos" from "good and bad" I proceeded to bring as much chaos to my work as possible. Settling for that which had already been done, in some form, was unacceptable, and it became incredibly important to me to avoid duplication of anything already on the market.
If Kit Williams hadn't started the treasure hunt genre in 1979, with Masquerade, that would have been a perfect avenue of my need for a new form of expression in print...
A book series which has spent an inordinate amount of time lodged in my brain is Art Attack, based on a television series co-created, and hosted, by Neil Buchanan. It offered a beautifully simple framework on which to hang something greater, and it became clear that nobody had ever approached such a publication with nefarious intent. All books of a "how to make..." nature tend to stick to well-trodden paths (no pun intended), offering little beyond examples of what a regular reader might be expected capable of putting together. I bought a great many of these in preparation for my first foray into something which seemed genuinely new.
Challenge 52 was always, from it's inception, intended as a novel, but I've consistently described it - at every opportunity - as something else. To have given away it's secret would have ruined the surprise, but (because it's time has, largely, passed) there's no point in remaining silent now. Intended as a lavishly illustrated work, every page filled with photographs and illustrations, it would walk the reader through one year of creation, depicting fifty-two simple-to-achieve pieces which anyone might be capable of reproducing. It also needed to tell a gripping narrative hidden within it's pages, which took some more consideration that I had initially planned. A great deal of thought went into my pitch, including how much alteration the setting of each week's photographs would need.
It wasn't in my mind at the time (I'm sure, although it's hard to remember precisely), but a degree of In the Mouth of Madness' reality-bending needed to be present. With each creation the main character of this title, depicted in photographs, created, he would have to age ever-so-imperceptibly. Backgrounds would have required careful staging to properly depict the passing of a year (a Christmas tree seem within the December weeks), with it's closing chapters being noticeably darker and of a less well-maintained nature, the book’s real nature opening up. Illustrations, also, needed to evolve through the span of it's text, beginning as incredibly sharp, extremely technical imagery, devolving into things seemingly scribbled on scrap paper with an unsteady hand in it's final pages.
With each creation, the main character would be one step closer to unleashing whatever ancient and unknowable entity needed the power of creation to fuel it's emergence...
While it wasn't an entirely unique idea, it's presentation, storytelling, and appearance, certainly separated it from everything else. That pitch must have been sent to dozens of publishers, always receiving a polite "no thank you" in response. Everything is subjective. Knowing that there are no right answers, and that nobody knows anything, for sure, doesn't make the sting of rejection any less painful.
Seeing there was hesitation to explore what might be accomplished by bringing the nature of separate markets together, I realised that a less radical approach was needed, and began to distil everything into a simpler form, which would not have required additional expenditure for a vast amount of photographic material. It's scope - and required length - was also a problem, and it became necessary to think about other, much more achievable, forms. Reluctantly I discovered that in order to accomplish anything of my ambition, pushing against assumed visual limitations of books, I had to abandon the notion of print altogether. It took me a while to put all of my ideas into a less revolutionary format, but it was in stepping away from print that a solution to several of my frustrations with this process were alleviated, and it took what I had already been doing with 'phone games to it’s logical next step...
Choose Your Own Adventure books were big business back in the eighties, with a multitude of iterations, and appearances, being published relatively close to each other. First, and most recognisable, were paperbacks which were actually released under the umbrella line of Choose Your Own Adventure, and although I had managed to pick up a few of these I generally found them lacking. A Masters of the Universe title called He-Man and the Memory Stone - published as an Adventure Game Book - held slightly more interest, but was still stuck with some of the format's less appealing qualities, and Diceman, a side-publication to 2000 A.D., was only marginally more compelling, largely for artwork present.
Because I had to have a simple goal for readers to maintain in mind, I took inspiration from Anabasis and Journey to the West, with a quest to get from A to B. It seemed the most appropriate narrative to hang a story on, being immediately clear what the reader would need to work towards - everything along the way, however, permitted free reign to indulge in anything I wanted to include. As I would be telling several iterations of this story, through branching narratives, it allowed for a far more experimental nature in what was on the page (or, rather, screen). It couldn't be recognisably Earth, in the present, as that would have raised too many disturbing questions and implications, so either a fantasy or SF setting was needed, and I chose SF for it's more solid underpinnings.
Freed from arbitrary word count limitations, armed with a basic concept that was pretty much bulletproof, and with a great deal of the visual and storytelling requirements already in mind, I approached various people to see if they were willing to come in on it with me. It's title was always simply The Path, as it spoke to both the philosophical nature of it's presentation, and was as literal as possible. Opening with a crashed ship, it's pilot (the protagonist) unconscious - and with memory loss, when discovered and revived - the narrative would follow several routes he might take back to the manned station where he departed from.
Although this was intended to deploy all possible tools, I was acutely aware that some readers might not appreciate audio randomly playing at inopportune moments, nor appreciate several animated sequences I had planned. These were to be coped with through setting out, in initial screens, how the reader would want to proceed - there would be variations at each point in the narrative where audio or video would appear, with prose alternatives presented. Not merely replicating, in words, what would have been presented in other media, but telling a completely different story again. More work than really needed, but it felt necessary to provide everyone with their own experience.
Journey to the West, and specifically Monkey, had been on my mind for a long time, and this allowed me to engage in a great many small tributes to the television show I had watched in childhood. There were bits lifted from Ulysses 31, H. Beam Piper, and a ridiculous amount of Adventures of the Galaxy Rangers in the mix as well (robot horses are always appealing). I was considering this experiment canon to what I was already, at that point, developing with Decline + Fall, replete with similar quotations as was present throughout that novel - then in an early draft, and not yet a sprawling, immense, unwieldy text encompassing a mind-boggling number of characters. It's main character, who readers should feel a certain affection for, was explicitly a chaotic neutral character, allowing far more narrative possibility than a standard cookie-cutter hero.
Choices made, on the way through this story, would offer up all manner of strange encounters, and yet everything needed to gel seamlessly. It went through several iterations, gaining and losing several story paths as I reconsidered throwing cyborgs, various aliens, transhumans (lizard people, hippo/elephant people, and others) and robots at readers without some explanation, and I refined what it's extent of supplementary media was required. This was right around the time that mainstream media had noted a proliferation of ARG's, and it made complete sense to create one to set up the world I would be exploring.
Between the time this project began and the point it was finally put to rest, more than three million words had been applied to it's main narrative. I don't know precisely how many paths, through various choices, were presented to readers, but it was more than I have any desire to replicate. In addition to all this, I planned on writing a handbook to the philosophy which the protagonist had on him (being the text above), with various saints and Popes mentioned (basically being a Discordian text), as well as various things which, by following the ARG, one might find in torrents, or hidden on websites across the internet, or even in print.
A remarkable number of creators were read in on this, various publishers consulted, and even a games company, but no-one wanted to tackle something of this nature, with so many moving parts. This, remember, was meant to be my simpler expression of a notion originally applied to Challenge 52, and although I had done my best to present it as cleanly as possible, it's extent was soon apparent to everyone who wished to know what was available. It was clear that, having already committed so many words to this, that it's size was something of a stumbling block. It also became clear, soon enough, that it's narrative held problems for some.
It was important that each piece of my narrative experiment contained a specific message, with a core messaging that one should never let the moment overwhelm the self. Fear response, particularly, was given a rather harsh criticism, with panic being looked down upon, although I also held little time for overwhelming passion clouding one’s senses - all very much within a larger attempt to permit discussion about what is possible when one becomes an unfettered, complete, and singular self. Being true to one's core was the essential message, but also a part of what the world around my protagonist represented - to move through the world requires deliberation, determination, and clear purpose, and abandoning anything important to indulge oneself is dangerous.
And then there were the endings...
The briefest path to the final location would be see the protagonist arrive in time to hear that an aggressive alien species’ ship was approaching. A longer path would find him arriving amid a pitched battle, and the longest paths saw the base already overrun, and it's surrounding landscape swarming with these beings. At no point did I consider the possibility of a "happily ever after" ending where everything was perfectly wrapped up, leaving all of my characters living long and fruitful lives. That was, very likely, an oversight on my part.
There's a whole essay which could be written about the protagonist alone, calling himself Tao Paleogenesis when asked for his name. It was as much a nod towards the increasingly absurd propensity for wilfully strange screen-names as it was a discrete nod to Vernor Vinge’s True Names, and in this there were more problems to navigate. More than a few people saw what I was attempting to do as being, for whatever reasons, "improper" - as if I have ever attempted to represent myself as being proper...
For one reason or another everyone declined to participate. I created hours of music in an attempt to entice other creators to assist in it’s completion, and even provided generous licenses for the tracks, permitting their use with no conditions. Nobody took me up on sharing in The Path’s creation. Without the time - or ability - to completely cover this work's artistic requirements, there was no way that I could upload it somewhere myself, and I didn't want to present a half-assed version in place of it's true scope. It always felt like it needed an extra boost which the presentation of art alongside text provided.
I would say that nothing went to waste in all this work, but that isn’t precisely the case. Some of the plot and secondary elements snuck into the (ever-increasing) manuscript for Decline + Fall, and I churned out three novellas with one supporting character who took my fancy, but those largely came and went without anyone caring in the slightest. Because there was no drama in what those contained, and I had purposefully obscured any direct link to their originating source, it wasn’t necessary for any backlash to my notions being carried forward. If I had been smarter I would have focused on Tao, and taken what free publicity I could from the fallout. Embracing easily-marketable ideas is, however, cheating, and I am loathe to consider myself a safe option.
Much of the music remains, on one of the 4TB hard drives, but the full text hasn't turned up again. I don't know if it was on one of the hard drives which died, in terrifying rapidity, on moving to Brighton - surely a curse hangs on that place - or if it remains on one still remaining in storage. I have found two hitherto-unknown drives present already. Having listened back to my recordings, they are full of specific references which, in isolation, make little sense, and it's difficult to imagine them in isolation from their original purpose - a couple need to be remastered from their original files, having been done on my old VAIO, and spat out in remarkably bad shape. The soothing, ambient pieces, intended for the opening pages, are fine, but largely background noise, not really intended for listening intently to.
A few incidental moments were rewritten for my German contract novellas (all now disavowed) as nobody there had the slightest idea I was merely reworking things, rather than writing new material. Some bits and pieces of business were later incorporated into my Ghost Bureau novel (which still requires a polish or three, bringing it under four thousand words) with appropriate modification. What I consider most important in all I had created for The Path was what was presented above. This, a pure and unfiltered expression of the story's essential points, is a perfectly respectable stand-alone piece, although I would, if it were to be reworked for any print use, make the total number hit either five or eight, rather than the slightly awkward four it remains on.
I'm glad this was written at a remove from my work on the main story, preserving it on disc, as it gives me the opportunity to tell a little of The Path. It was with some amusement that I noted Bandersnatch, a Black Mirror special, using the Choose Your Own Adventure format, in video, and what surrounded it’s release. Given the shitstorm from the rights holders to that book series’ on seeing a competitor, it is probably for the best that things didn’t progress farther than they did - a second protracted legal battle would have been financially fatal, although the mess I left in Spain is all on me.
The notion of a completely self-sufficient protagonist, unbound by any social niceties, was dusted off and reworked for a revival of Fantômas. That particular work failed to get anywhere with anyone, it’s first chapter being a (roughly even) split of French and English - before transitioning into English for the remainder. Because I treated it seriously, with no translation convention in place, I couldn't have Fantômas speaking English without explanation, and was determined not to pander to any particular audience.
If I was more mercenary in my approach to writing, and accepted everything offered in advice, I would likely have no problem whatsoever in getting things placed. There should be room, within a great expanse of printed material, for things which sit outside of easy categorization, and challenge reader expectations with each turn of a page, and I fear that a certain complacency within readers is being nurtured. It's been almost five years since I have read any new title which has truly shaken me, and that was an account of a true crime, so is slightly separate from works in which an author sets out to get under the skin of a reader with their ability alone.
Given it's protracted editing journey, I may make some of Decline + Fall, which is tangentially related, available online. Any decision on that work is still up in the air until a final edit is committed to.