Hypercompendia

I’m done.  No, I’m not.  I’m done.  No, I’m not.  I’ve never been so unsure. 

Going through the architecture of this piece, brick by brick, I find a question, a gap in the mortar so to speak:  Who is Andrew?  Why’d Anne marry him–if, in fact, she did? Why back to Boston?  Why not hang out with the seagulls and collect shells on the beach for a while?  Why not make peach wine?

So a thread and a loop.  And another piece of the story fits together.  Even as I study the map view of the narrative, I try to relate to the title boxes.  Here’s where I might have been more astute in matching the ideas of the stories through the title of each Writing Space.  Planning for the reader instead of suiting my own thoughts as a writer (I’ll kneel before Barthes tonight to make restitution).

The titles I’d placed were to jog my mind as to where they played in whose story.  They were my own little made-up ‘spark’ words to be easily recognizable…by me.  In the frameshop, I do this regularly.  Forget what Matisse or Dali named his piece, they’re something else entirely to me.  And God help me if ever the proud grandmother reads upside-down on my workbook "ugly child with monkey or younger brother."

But it’s really too late (no it isn’t, I’m just lazy) to change titles now because while the main links are automatically corrected, I don’t think the text links and the guard fields are and that’d be a holy mess to unravel.  In Map View anyway; it’d likely be an easier task in Outline or Chart.  Gotta decide if the whole piece is worth it or if it’s time to move on soon.

Wanted to give this a separate post because I think it’s one of the important things I’ve learned in working on the project.  In the post below, I stated, "In this, my first experience with Storyspace, I had an advantage of a narrative that was purposely set up in anticipation of a hypertext format."

Well hah! to that. While I’ve left many of the original links between the stories in the hypertext version, I can sense that while I’ve taken many of them out, many more need to go.  Basically, in writing Paths for preparation of real (versus pseudo) hypertext, I fell into the simplistic pattern of word sparking.  That’s my own term for a case of linking morning in Story #1 to morning in Story #4 and Story #3, and back again, and toes to toes, etc. 

Well I knew that Anne’s cigarette toes had no relationship to Joyce’s toes. But what I did, and I think it was partly due to a necessity of bringing some recognizable ‘word link’ into a world of paper pages that included a sea of words around toes, was latch onto that idea as a tie-in.  The stories all do relate; the characters all recalling a certain time common to all of them, and yet I had to depend on words like hair and shower and plate and corn to tie them together for the reader.  Frankly, I now look at the four stories and without the vast changes I’ve done to them via hypertext, I think they’d be better off being read #1, #2, #3, #4, bam-bam-bam, just like that, without going from toe to toe.

What this tells me in Storyspace, is that I really need to look at every one of the original links between the stories to prove them.  To make sure they create the flow of thought that hypertext allows.  To ensure they aren’t even more obviously shown up in the hypertext format as counterfeit.

I’ll end this with another example of prep work in anticipation of the real thing.  Dancing With the Stars–I love dancing, I love watching them, I don’t care what you think–Sabrina was a hip-hop dancer and it was argued that she had an unfair advantage over the other contestants who really had no dance experience.  Sabrina did extremely well.  What helped her was her dancer’s mindset and discipline.  What hurt her?  She ended up with a bit of hip-hop in her waltz. 

Unlearning is sometimes harder than learning anew. But it was a poor man’s start toward the hypertext fiction format, and if nothing else, were the first steps towards an exciting endeavor in writing.

Once again I think I’m almost done with Paths.  Of course I can take it further, but I believe that everything that needs to be there, is there. 

In this, my first experience with Storyspace, I had an advantage of a narrative that was purposely set up in anticipation of a hypertext format.  The disadvantage is that I’d never realized the options that the format gives the writer to expand and branch into other areas that proved the original 5000 words to be a seminal work and in no way measuring up to its potential.

Aside from change of writing style (it has been a couple of years since the stories were formulated) and voice that constantly grows with the writer, there is a depth that the story didn’t even stick a toe into until I started working with the tool that provided a more realistic image of the hypertext view.  I’ve been working exclusively with the Map View (problems with conversion into Chart or Outline because of the particular setup of this project were covered in earlier posts) and personally, I love the big picture it gives me of the story development.  Several things become clear.

The way I have it set up, I can immediately see the original story line (of each individual story) and recognize all the loop-de-loops as the new writing.  The new writing produced over the last three weeks is twice the amount of the original form (This has to say something for the Muse-abilities of Storyspace).  What worries me a bit is that even with rewriting some of that original text, the voice difference between Susan of Two Years Ago and Susan at Sixty is a bigger problem of discombobulation than I myself will be able to pick up on.   Storyspace does assist tremendously in that I can see at a glance exactly where the old line runs.  What the old has effectively served as is an outline (something I never ever did in writing, prepare an outline). 

The stories have grown so far beyond the boundaries of their birth as text form, restricted to the cradle of the numbered page, that I’m amazed at how much I now feel I didn’t know was happening.  Now I’ve gone back and rewritten short stories and "padded" them–with good information that progressed the story, but not in the same way that the hypertext format allows.  Heck, you can be a kid and question every Writing Space and then as the adult, have to supply an answer, therefore doubling your exposition of story.  This isn’t the way to do it though, at least as intent. Rather it’s a case of adding only something that you find interesting to add.

Still, I believe I’m almost done.

The TV drama CSI New York is an offshoot of CSI (Las Vegas) which had first spawned CSI Miami.  It’s typical in TV land to clone a success and sit on your laurels for a while.  Evidences by the rash of reality shows, Legal dramas, the cop shows such as Law and Order, and of course, the talent shows for dancing or making a complete fool of yourself. 

But this is going along the lines of all those commercials where they animate real people via software programming.  CSI has latched onto Second Life to make a virtual crime scene where you’re invited to help follow clues and discover the perpetrator. 

It’s curious to think that as we get further and further away from real human contact–via e-mail, weblogs, gaming, Peapod delivery, families moving around instead of remaining local, working from home, and going to college online–that it’s going to be hard to remember what a handshake feels like, or if people have huge eyes and round heads like their avatars.

So it’s the writers’ dilemma:  Are five too many?  Are three enough?  (a ’70s Sunsweet Prunes commercial) When do the boxes stop stacking up, tumbling over and breaking open to reveal more?

It should stop when the story has been told, but with a format such as this with Storyspace, there’s really a lot more opportunity to wander, add, tweak, offer examples, reveal by episode.  But there must be more (cripes, I just looked up to watch a few seconds of TV and went looking for "Save" — a Storyspace habit that’s spilling over to other areas of my life evidently) As I said, there must be more of an indication when enough is enough. 

I think my characters have purpose, made decisions, have rounded themselves out to be believable, likeable in their vulnerabilities, deserving of a reader’s interest.  There are trickier things to learn in Storyspace, but I don’t necessarily feel that I need take advantage of every program option unless it makes the story sing more sweetly.

Maybe I just need a day away from it.  I’m near to 225 Writing Spaces now, but I really need to know that the  only way Storyspace is driving the story is by offering opportunities, not by simply providing a zillion boxes to fill and stack up.  Yes, it’s that much fun.

I feel very guilty doing this, since the whole purpose of the program is to link things, not repeat them, but for the second or third time now I find myself duplicating the text within a Writing Space.  This was done once for convenience, just to avoid the link to a single Space and back again with all the guard fields necessary to keep the reader from going ahead into one of the other stories where things wouldn’t make sense.  Now I find it a useful way of tying things in without linking (sorry, Mark!). 

What happened was this:  I saw another scenario for the end of story #1, and in writing it, realized that something similar had come up (out of the blue, unrelated, different person, blah-blah) in Story #3.  Well, in working traditionally, that snippet likely wouldn’t be there, and if it were, it’d be moved once I saw this better spot for it.  I have the option to link, but since I want to take that particular snippet and change a word or two, as well as expand upon it here in Story #1, I think it’s neat to be able to repeat it, though not verbatim.  A reader will make the connection, I’m sure, once he’s read both pieces of text in their own contexts, and will not need to go back for confirmation.  Plus, maybe I don’t want him to do that. 

Now you just couldn’t do that without considerable skill in unhypertexted narrative (unhypertexted, def: old-fashioned straight linear text without reason or ability for wandering unless that much of a skimmer).

The capability of duplicating a piece of story here is along the lines of creating leit motif perhaps.  A recurrence that becomes recognizable.  Maybe it’s just reinforcing a notion of possibilities, or relating the characters to each other by a pattern. 

It’s another use of the tool. 

Steve Ersinghaus has an interesting posting regarding endings and what they traditionally mean or as construed in various patterns of thought and form.

He says, "A better question may be why multiple paths, not alternative endings (which assumes a primary and secondary set), may be called for in a given story. "  Steve has produced a novel, The Life of Geronimo Sandoval, in hypertext format using Storyspace, so he fully understands the question of paths and variables based on choice.  His novel has paths that run concurrently in time and space, as well as overlaps in these areas–meaning, alternatives.

In focusing on my plan to give Story #1 two endings, he says, "What’s interesting here is the implication for Story 1 that it has two endings and not one. But how can this be so?"  Actually, in adding another "ending" to Story #1, I’ve in fact added a third or fourth, since the four stories themselves are all alternative paths.  That may not make sense, but the whole piece is based on the concept of choice.  Choice and regret; choice and satisfaction; choice and action, inaction, and reaction. 

Then throw character perspective in there and you’ve got a whole lot of options.  As a matter of fact (dammitdammitdammit!) there’s an idea swimming around that maybe the main four stories aren’t really the full story.  I can easily see a few more possibilities, even based on one summer back somewhere in the 70’s.  I can see dreams and wishes as clearly as memories.  That’s no reason they all can’t be part of the narrative; aren’t they, after all, a part of every man’s life?

Something’s at work here; just as the form of poetry inhibits extraneous words and description often comes down to an immediate metaphor, Writing Spaces appear to be doing the same thing for me.

Now from the manual, it seems that Writing Spaces (which appear on my laptop screen as approximately 2-1/2" x 4-1/4" in writing area) can be enlarged to accommodate more, or can work via a scrollbar which automatically appears if the text box is kept small but the text rambles on.  The manual also tells me that each space can hold 32,768 characters, or the equivalent of 5000 words. That’s a lot.  I don’t think that for story use this capability will ever be used to its maximum.  It’d sorta defeat the purpose, becoming like a mini-version of any writing program such as Word, with the bonus of link ability.  And even Word gives you that if it’s an URL you’re planning on linking.

For me, as I’ve said before, the space becomes part of the story process by influencing not only the dramatic breaks in narrative flow, but as with poetry, the tendency to overwrite or ramble is overcome by the visual limit of the "page."  It also inspires closer revision to make each word work, and to present each sentence and event in its most inviting form.  For example:

Original:  A tall thin boy stiffly held her with a hand on her back, knowing that fathers watched closely.

Revised:  A tall thin boy stiffly held her with a hand barely touching her back, feeling the eyes of lions upon him.

Not a huge difference, but a poetic one that adds a succinct image by metaphor.  I really believe that the often tiresome job of revision (though I’ve always loved it personally…well, up to a point) becomes almost a challenge taken in smaller, more easily accessible and so, successful doses.  The smaller focal point is a magnifier that sees the sentence rather than the page.

The idea finally hit, in the middle of making chicken’n’dumplings for dinner tonight:  The Writing Space that’s held me hostage has now officially given me two endings for story #1.  As mentioned before, that involves the "special link" in Storyspace of ?(n) — in this case, (n) being 2, or every other time it’s read.  I was going to leave a loop and text-link one of the endings, but hey, what’s better than a couple readers arguing about how it ended when only you know that they read two different things?  Hee-hee.

Besides, in this particular narrative, there not only is no ending, there are several.  Figure that out.

One thing about the folks at Eastgate, they do seem to care a lot about their customers, the users of their software such as Storyspace, Tinderbox, etc. 

On his own weblog, Mark Bernstein has kindly pointed the way back here to my experiences with Storyspace. One thing I’ve always been strong about is that feedback to a writer is vital.  Boo’s or applause, it’s all helpful.  Didn’t realize that writers of creative programs often appreciate this just as much as writers of story.  While I’m very glad to offer any and all help back to the providers of this program, I sure wish I’d made sure my postings were a bit more professional than my odd but adorable way of drifting off into metaphorical fantasy or practicing my Faulkner. 

A good thing: Mark wisely linked to the category archives that will follow the Storyspace experience and this will be updated with every new posting I place under that specific Storyspace title, so my futher adventures will be available there on new project areas as well as the initial novella of Paths.  And with a little luck, I’ll remember to put things a bit more clearly and concisely.  And I suppose, be on my best behavior…for a little while anyway.