Hypercompendia

As ya’ll know, I’m a stark-raving maniac when it comes to my love of hypertext fiction and that, teamed with my overbearing, hard-headed, determined to make people see it-nature, made for a rather unhappy and tormented artistic soul at best since I can’t always have my own way.

Persistence is key; persistence and insistence can swiftly become unbearable to those upon whom it is focused. Even with my own experience of hypertext (and IF I might add) being one of cursing and slamming fists onto keyboards (I’m small but highly volatile) I still sought an avenue that was gold-paved and happy-treelined and as invitational and welcoming as possible.

And then came Maude. Maude Nichols was the fun, learning experience of hypertext. It is not put-offish, it’s a humorous easy read, it directly relates to the reader, and it looks like it’s brought in some writers interested in the medium now that it doesn’t seem so scary.

I belong to an online writers community called Fictionaut and the writing quality there, I must say, is phenomenal overall (I’m in awe and feel like I’m reading the best of the best contemporary short story writers and poets around). I’m easily intimidated but what the hell, I threw in a couple flash fiction pieces I wrote specifically for posting and then a hypertext piece. The piece was The Perfect Woman (also, like Maude, one of the 100 hypertexts from last summer’s project) and got a bit of interest. A few weeks later, I put up Maude. Maude now has twelve “favs” to it and more importantly, the comments indicate that these seasoned writers like the medium; had fun with it; some even impressed enough to try their own hand at it.

I just love it.

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.

The Mating Ritual of The Modern Man

This came out different than planned and not quite as focused, but I doubt that anyone will realize or care.

What inspired the story was the reality television shows such as The Bachelor, The Bachelorette, More to Love, etc. All those “true love true story” shows that are recognized by their overuse of the word “amazing” when describing the rejectees.

I am more intrigued than ever by the hypertext form of narrative and yet it’s still so damn hard to convince others to read much less write in this style. I’ve used Storyspace for the first couple of stories, but have used Tinderbox for all the rest and have paid homage to this exciting software by Eastgate in this last story of the 100 days.

My thanks and appreciation to all who have taken on this 100 Days Project. Now I suppose we all shall be busily writing our first semester compositions on “What I Did on My Summer Vacation.” After that, I may just have to take my hypertext show on the road.

Oaks and Acorns

As we’re winding down to the end of the 100 days of summer stories, the relief is mixed with a dash of desire to shine. To include what could be the best of our narratives, the working of words and images and hypertext to its finest.

But it’s all been a learning process and that won’t stop at the 100-day mark. This story is a more tender, gentle tale of a father and son. The bridging of time and space between generations. The hypertext is a series of alternate paths that lead through the woods to the pond.

Perks

What set me off on a trail from Steve’s story this morning was the idea of things. Little things carried back and forth. Things that we accumulate to make a home, a life around us. Things that change a person’s character to make him rationalize and justify.

The course is one that may go around and around, but then, the lexias are short and emphasize a building process. “Perks” here indicates the perquisites that one may have become too used to in this new economy. All that’s going to change, I’m sure, and it too will become as obsolete as the concept of hard work and the reward of the good life we may have known.

The Scent of Sundays

This is the fourth attempt at yesterday’s story and completely different from those I’d halfway finished and tainted by a restless night of visiting ghosts.

It is an unhappy story, yet one all too often suffered by so many. The mapping is random though I believe that the story is contained within any of the multiple paths that lead through the narrative.

Feeling rather melancholy tonight, thinking of the last four stories to write yet in this 100-story saga. I have six color themes left–geared that way so that I still have a choice of colors to blend with the tone of the hypertext. Not that I haven’t tweaked some changes even after I think I have the right colors.

Big difference from a few days ago when I really didn’t want to write another word. I mean, really didn’t want to write, not one more word. Stoicism and being true to my word, along with a touch of the masochist indeed made me push myself every day to produce when it was even physically painful to do so.

Now the focus is on what do I want to say, what do I want to leave within this legacy or better, what is it that is important not to leave out?

It’s going to be an interesting next four days.

Dimensional 2

Just a continuation of hypertext #10 Dimensional. I’d written just a couple of spaces of this story right after I finished the first installment back in early June (day #10!). I’ve been wanting to explore the world of Jam and Jane as Jane’s world level is destroyed in a loose translation of string theory. This also covered the idea of their dual identity and where each fit in the space of time they inhabited. What, I wondered, will happen when both are in the same time zone?

Links are included within both stories.

Ambitions

Actually, if you follow your gut feeling in clicking links here you’re probably most likely to get the full impact of the story. I like this one. It’s probably one of my strongest metaphorically disguised political statements which is something that’s always fun for a writer to do when it combines with a futuristic outlook of society.

Or, it could just be fun.

Concurrent Continuity

Just an exercise in hypertext pathmaking.

This is a pattern that works well in the hypertext form; similar to the movie Sliding Doors where one little change leads the character on a different course in life.

So while the threads are linear, they are simultaneous–or as much so as I was mentally up to preparing. It doesn’t quite have the impact that I would like, but it is open to rewriting and further exploration of this literary device so readily available in hypertext.