Freedom From The Mundane

Conscience And Art

Image: Macnolete

I sent off the rest of my submissions on my pending list. Stories that have come back from publications, have been turned around and were ready to go back out. I just never got around to it. I seem to get do this in phases but it’s something I should keep on top of more often. I should really send out more poetry submissions, too.

Speaking of poems I wrote three new ones last night. Two kids poems and one more serious effort. The serious one is quite, how shall I say it, to the bone, so I’m no sure how/if I will ever use it when it’s polished.

A great friend of mine is in a bit of a dilemma over a character. Devon Ellington is facing the predicament of delving too much into one of her characters, a very dark character by all accounts, and the question she is faced with is how much should she let the character overwhelm her for her to be able to write about him/her.

It’s something I think all writers face. In the same way as method acting requires, a writer will very often submerge himself consciously into a character in order to understand him, to figure out his motivations, desires, hates and loves. To work out what he will do next. Other times that submersion comes without it being realised; the writer finds they have become at one with a character without realising it, and so breaking off can cause emotions linked with grieving and sadness.

This is all very fine if the character is a nice chap who works for a charity and feeds ducks on a Saturday, but what if he’s darker than that, what if he’s a prowler, a killer, sexually violent or worse. Becoming that character can cause major problems for the writer. How far do you go to get inside that character’s head? And when you get there, can you handle what you see and feel?

There’s no right or wrong answer, it all comes down to the nature of the writer involved. Sometimes too much is simply too much—did you see the state of De Niro after he played Jake La Motta? But sometimes digging in can reap memorable rewards—De Niro again, The Godfather II.

Good luck Devon with the direction you take on this, and for every other writer out there grappling between their conscience and their art.

Back to writing. I thought I’d check out Meetup.com for any local ghost hunting groups and found one right here in Edinburgh. I signed up and waited for the administrator to let me through, but instead he sent me a bunch of questions about how serious I was and was it just research I wanted to join up for. I told him I was looking for information about Major Thomas Weir and the haunted area around West Bow/Anderson Close and without so much as a remark, he deleted me from the group!

I think these paranormal people have something to hide. Or certainly, this one does. I thought the Freemasons were secretive till I met this bloke! Very odd and inclusive and quite frankly very rude—or at least, the administrator Tony Stebbings is.

One thing I did notice before I was kicked out is that he charges people money to be a member and to go on ghost hunting missions, something anyone can do for free in almost any part of this city. One might call it exploitation of the passionate, others might just call it a scam.

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