The Rubik’s Cube of Plot

Photo by William Warby from London, England

We are all emitting and absorbing information every day. Those who are not are dead or non-existent, or irrelevant. Their pictures will be found unmarked in shoeboxes, not rooted in anything, thrown out. In this selfie age, everything is spectacular, noteworthy, easy. The recorder is always on. In just half an hour I can publish something for the world, tell myself I’m a writer, and believe it — and that’s the problem. It’s too easy. Like armpit farts, it makes pretty convincing sounds.

In keeping with the meta-theme, this post is about the writing of my last post, why it’s my favorite , liked by exactly four people (Ross, Beth, Yahooey, and my wife) — and why that’s okay.

‘Writing is like jazz. It can be learned, but it can’t be taught.’ (Paul Desmond)

I was mixing generic-brand Nyquil with alcohol, hoping for a good night’s rest, had done so a couple nights in a row, and banked-up enough sleep I was wide awake at 4 in the morning, turning on a story idea that presented itself, coupled with the sound of an owl hooting outside in the dark.

I lay there thinking it was a good idea and I should write it down before I forget, and so I drafted it by the light of my laptop, in the dark. I had the beginning and the end, all of about 1,000 words, by 5 o’clock.

And then, for two days I turned it inside out, over and over, at least 19 revisions, sometimes reading it on my phone, making note of the parts that didn’t work, how to improve the ending. I even sent a draft to a friend, asking him to pick a photo for it.

When I published it, about 48 hours later, I knew it was my first piece of fiction that was ‘done.’ (It gets quotes there because I was done with it, which doesn’t mean it was done-done.) Like a Rubik’s cube, it may look like I got all the sides from afar but if you were to turn it over, I’m not sure all the squares line up.

It’s the first time I’ve been able to create an arc in a story, to create a character that felt real — a character I loved and enjoyed torturing a little, like a Voodoo doll. Because, as in our dreams, it seems all the characters we imagine are really us.

For more than a year now, I’ve had weighty themes tied to The Meaning of Existence that I haven’t known how to talk about, because I have to write it to fully realize it; that’s the only way it will come. It seems the act is tied to the resolution.

And so when I published What happened to Brown, there was a freedom in not needing so much acceptance of the post because first and foremost, I liked it. It’s personal, but better here than discovered in a shoebox with photos of people no one will ever recognize, puzzles bound to be forgotten, stories of how they got their name.

About pinklightsabre

William Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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8 Responses to The Rubik’s Cube of Plot

  1. ksbeth says:

    sometimes the smallest groups have the biggest field of vision.

    Like

  2. Bill, my friend, I missed your post and just went back and read it. Can I just say it’s what I’ve hoped to see from you? It’s a beautiful piece and worthy of many likes. It makes me wish we could sit around a campfire and talk writing, because you have some chops!
    PS – I’m adding a Like, just to mess up your post today.

    Like

    • pinklightsabre says:

      Wunderbar! I think this is the campfire, Michelle. Snuggle up…so delighted you liked it, and you reading it alone made it worthwhile to replay it. I think I have Ross and your writing voices in my head often, and I’m glad for it. Makes for a good stew, for good people. Happy to see you back posting again, too. – Bill

      Like

  3. Karen says:

    I’ve published a handful (3, to be precise) of posts of my fiction on my blog. Other than the one that was Freshly Pressed, I’ve never gotten a lot of response on any of them. I’ve thought a lot about the Liking and Commenting system on blogs and after three years of blogging, I still don’t understand the motivations behind Liking and Commenting (though I have my theories).

    As a blog reader, I’m not sure how to respond when someone posts their fiction. Were you looking for feedback?

    Like

    • pinklightsabre says:

      Hi Karen – thanks for your thoughts. My opinion about commenting and liking is it’s a potential crazy-land if you start thinking about it too much. I don’t know any of this to be true, but suspect the medium may not be as conducive for fiction as other content. I say that without any real experience other than one post, which was 1,300 words and admittedly unusual, non-traditional, a bit of a mind-fuck, so the fact I didn’t get much response could be any of the above, and not blamed on the medium. If I did want feedback about the story itself I would have been more explicit about that; it was just really funny and ironic to me…and not unusual I’m sure to other bloggers, to receive a great response to something that took 10 minutes and then zilch, for a more thought-out one. I wonder if we’re accustomed yet to curling up with a bunch of blog posts on the sofa vs. curling up with a paperback, I don’t know. I like my cat better.

      Like

  4. rossmurray1 says:

    I like this “director’s commentary.”
    All of us are shouting in some way, “We are here, we are here, we are here!”
    I have an email started. It’s been a crazy long weekend with the play and hard-drinking houseguests, and I think yesterday I hit the ground hard. Hope to get the time this week to finish it.

    Like

    • pinklightsabre says:

      Brother…hard-drinking house guests can’t be good. Take your time and settle in. Happy belated thanksgiving, congrats on opening.

      Like

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