Even when he has one big, must-be-done thing to concentrate on, the writer’s brain always seems to find time work away quietly at any number of various other ideas. Which is fine until it has an unexpected and ill-timed eureka moment. Mine happened at 5.31 this morning, and concerns my Musical stories.
Long term readers (are there any? really?) will remember my occasional attempts to smersh together musical theatre and short fiction. The first two–pirate adventure, The Last Note Of The Song, and 70s punk coming-of-age story, Arrhythmia–dealt in different ways with the idea of the music of the world–the background music that swirls and swells unceasingly around the characters in musicals–as destiny. That destiny might present itself as a capricious, whimsical intelligence or as an oppressive, jackbooted straitjacket, but in both cases the characters have ultimately no control over it.
For a while now I’ve been planning a third in the series in which the characters do find a way to escape the demands of the music. Basically, a love story in which the characters are determined not to fall in love with the people the music has chosen for them, about ignoring the swell of lush strings and romantic guitar. About the consequences of breaking destiny.
This morning’s little revelation involved some specific ideas on how to achieve that. Almost to that point where the story demands to be written. I’m pleased, but for now I’m resisting it. Placating the urge with this blog post. For now.
Sooner or later I’ll give in and another of Neil’s Follies will be unloosed on the world. It’s inescapable, but until I succumb to the will of destiny, back to the novel.