EFA

I am toying around with a writing idea that I’ve thrown out to other people because I like the idea of it, but have frankly been afraid of trying myself solo. With a writing partner, possibly. Solo? It seems well outside my wheelhouse.

As previously mentioned, I think I should overcome these reluctances of mine to go outside my usual writing and just do things that seem hard, but ones that also use my “natural voice”, whatever that might mean.

The idea I’ve floated to several folks in the past is writing an epistolary story — one told in letters or other methods of communication between at least two people (one people might be only implied). Always suggested as something they should try ‘cos I’m chicken. But it sounds like some fresh territory for being an old technique, so with hockey helmets on… here I come.

I’m going, at least in the background, work on such a thing with some twists to it, which I won’t go into here in case it doesn’t make it past the workshopping stage. “Modernized” is probably a safe, spoiler-free adjective — no quill pens and blotter here.

I’m tentatively calling this project “Everything Falls Apart” (EFA) after something from my real past. As some of you have undoubtedly guessed (those who are music nerds, anyway), that is a veiled reference that hints at the Twin Cities hardcore music scene of the 80s and, yes, the “Your Flesh #4” discovery emerged from checking a few details before I even wrote my first paragraph.

The story of EFA is related to that time. But now. And includes other stuff. And stuff I wish was related to that time but not in the way that it is in my actual personal history books. “Natural voice” and all that shit.

I like the first bit I’ve written. Quite a bit, really. Now I need to get all of the ducks in a row and clean up my brainstorm session so that it makes actual logical sense. Right now, there are some unruly loose threads in the logic that are frustrating me. If I can tie those off, and still fit within my self-imposed guardrails, then you’ll likely see some more of it.

Or if the next couple of sections go poorly… well… you probably won’t see a stinking thing. Except the first chunk. I like that part.

Back to the scribbling.