Hypercompendia

Interesting principle brought up by one of the speakers yesterday at the Festival. Sandi Shelton, author of several fiction and non-fiction books and articles mentioned that she felt the internet was often an enemy of the writer as we spend precious minutes surfing the web or checking email when we drift from the business of writing.

True to a certain degree, yet I feel obliged to stand up in defense of internet connection as its benefits may well balance out or even tip the scales in its favor as a boon to writers.

For one thing, research is more quickly done and readily available: a click away instead of notes scribbled for a trip to the library when you get a chance to go.  For me, the function of the weblogs–all three of them–keep me writing when I might otherwise be playing mah-jong or some such time-consumer as I hit a stumbling block of white space in the narrative.  I’ll mention too the wonder of the strictly online Hypertextopia which was the only way A Bottle of Beer even would have been created.

Less obvious are the resources other than clear research that the internet provides.  Grammar and language tools, fine literature available to get one in the mood, images and stories that go on every single day to create inspiration.

I’d say, it’s all in how you use the web to your advantage as a writer that makes the difference.  That and a heavy sense of guilt when you’ve clicked too far away from a justifiable purpose.

It’s true, I’ve fallen in love with one of my characters and likely given her so much attention because of it.  A Bottle of Beer’s Yolanda is a survivor.  As I read her story and realize what she has experienced, I am sorry that there is but this one last evening left to have learned about her.  We know she shares a tradition of submission to men with generations of women, yet she has found it within herself to fight back in a most terrible way when it came to her children.  What that brings to mind is a mother bear and her cubs–one of the most used metaphors for the protective maternal instinct.  It is not surprising to me then that the bear has turned up twice in this story, though not in this context at all.

What hypertext has me doing with story is carrying the burden of story that has all the elements of voice, style, tone, arc, pace, structure, etc., but allows the inclusion of what has been learned through experience yet not closely aligned within the story as a contributory plot.  It is an "oh yeah, and I remember once…" that is behind the words that get into the main highway of information that fit in someone else’s experience as a similar incident or lesson in life. 

I like the tone of Yolanda’s story, I like the humanness of it.  Her experience is frightful and yet she has overcome to be able to relax on her front porch in the sunset time, just stringing chile peppers.  It’s everyman’s story with different devils.  It’s the calm that follows the storms.  She is still ready to fight if she has to, but somehow knows that her battle has been won and she can walk off the field with grace and dignity into peace.

These are the methods: the hypertext format of thinking.  There are more characters that need such revelation for their simple efforts to live a good and honest life, yet have seen more than a simple linear narrative can do justice.  Storyspace is calling.

Unbelievable:

husband – gender-specific expression.  A gender-neutral word like ‘spouse’ may be appropriate.

Tell me, do you really believe we’re smarter than we were?

I use iPages right now in the Mac for my writing and just got the time to try their "Proofread" feature and it’s even more ridiculous than WinWord’s:

whores – Sexist expression.  This word may offend some readers because it is pejorative and can be applied only to women.

Give me an effin’ break. Small-breasted, large-breasted, wombed wonder–all the best terms down the politically correct tubes, er, shoot.  At least ‘endowed’ may be still used since it’s gender-neutral. As far as I’m concerned, vive la difference!

Preparing a paper on my life with Storyspace and how even at my age and far from higher intelligence status the transitioning of story, of writing from all aspects of the process adjusts itself to the new form and format.

Transitioning was my first word choice for the phenomenon.  Then Evolution, since I see it as an adaptive change that necessarily affects both writer and the product of his work, writing.  This is partially what I hope to cover in this presentation. 

But me being me–that is, the part that has not evolved/transitioned/plainly changed–I have to come up with the opening line first, or at the very least, a title, as it then acts as a crowbar to open the gates (keys and unlocking is just soo0 overdone, yaknow?).  And this is what I’ve settled on:

The Hypertext Effect: The Transfiguration of Writing and Writer

Just to make sure I was offending as few as possible, I did bother to look up the dictionary definition:

transfigure, v. t.  1. to change in outward form or appearance; transform; change, or alter.  2. to change so as to glorify, exalt, or idealize.

I like it. Sort of like a miraculous bolt of lightning type of experience.  I can see it now, that flash of insight, that moment of discovery, the martyr-nature of the average writer tripled, quadrupled by the endless possibilities of paths and woulda-coulda-shoulda’s.  And the satisfaction of a righteous God who allows that this self-doubt and bold but blind confidence that can endanger and deny, well that can all be passed on to the reader via the little but mighty link.

Okay, back to work.

Oh and yes, raised Catholic, I did of course play a bit with Transubstantiation but that gave me a definite feeling of the creepies; traditions and beliefs die hard.

Repeating this here from a writing exercise post at CW ’cause I like it; it may just fit into the hypertext on the boomer crisis, though I hadn’t wanted an apocalyptic bend to that one. 

I personally find that normal with just a little quirk to it is scarier than the fantastical creation of the mind.  Anyway:

In the new
democracy that took form after the war, when literally the dust had
settled and with the help of rains that dug themselves into lakes, the
ashes were molded into cities, flattened into roads and smoothly
grooved into parks and recreation areas and lawns.  And painted
appropriately white and black and green; whatever they decided looked
the most like what it used to be. Sometimes an artistic soul,
emboldened by the relative peace and saddened by the perpetual grey of
daylight sky, might offer to shape some trees to soften the angular
environment. These would most often be painted green, but one fellow
down on Center Street was from the Northeast.  His trees always were a
blur of oranges and reds.  Very few in this area understood why, but
let him be. Color was welcome.

In the new world order, every man and woman, every child of thinking
age was given choice.  Sadly, many of the older folk who still believed
in God and promises of Heaven, looked around them, thought a while,
then chose to die.

 

(Am doing this via MarsEdit so I’m not sure how the post will come out as far as the reference.)

Another push in the direction of hypertext for me; another reason to popularize it for the common reader and make it more accessible and interesting via story and genre base. It needn’t be taken away from academics and techno geeks, but rather added to encompass this much larger starving audience of readers.

Book notes: “”

(Via Megan McArdle.)

I did get the impression today that the one drawback to writing in hypertext format is that your available readers are at a premium.  Either that, or I need to find some younger, more with-it, open-minded friends.

Just discussing the project, talking about what I was doing and how exciting it is brought out the admission from two separate friends that they didn’t like the original narrative that was laid out in text form on real paper.  They hated flipping back and forth between pages.  Ah, so that’s why they never mentioned reading it.  Even my explanation that it is totally a different animal now brought further excuses–it seems both much prefer reading a book in book form; not on a computer.

Now I’m not ready to have anything read, but I’m thinking that up ahead I may have to form another writers group, specifically for hypertext writing.  I’m not as concerned with proofreading, that’s one thing I do almost as well as any writer can on his own work (except for tense and semicolons). Outside of a classroom where hypertext fiction is studied, I think a writer may find it hard to interest friends and family into service.  It’s hard enough to force them to read straight stories sometimes, and two out of five of my hardiest readers, those that made it through a novel ten years ago, are dead. 

Something to think about.  Though Christmas is coming, and what better gift than a story…

Really should have left well enough alone on the Paths project.  I’ve messed up the ending and have empty Writing Spaces hanging by threads.

Just not happy any more with the tone and style of it all.  I think I’m forcing it now, reluctant to recognize an end to the project because, well, so what?  I think that’s the rock that’s burdened my creative energy in the short story writing too.  Likely the reason why I edit so well–or at least, so much.  Taking the time, dragging it out.

Anyway, need to throw something in the boxes or eliminate them and reconstruct the way I had it that I didn’t like anymore, call it Finis! and move on into something fresh.

It’s normal for me to call a halt to a project, decide enough’s enough, and just as normal to sneak back in and play some more.  So for a while yet, I’ll still be on Paths, though another Storyspace project may soon start and be posted upon concurrently.

I’ve been going through, Writing Space by Writing Space, putting some finesse on the language.  Making sure that with the Storyspace capability of seeing everything via Map View (or one of the other views) laid open with some text showing, that it hasn’t affected the voice of the narrative nor the characters by such random editing.  What did I find?

I see a small cast of characters standing in blue light onstage, taking turns as the spotlight shines down on one, then another.  They step forward into the light, speak their minds, step back into their place on the map.

Love it.