Impressions

I've often smiled to myself secretly (half-smile, half-smirk, as some of my friends call it...) when I see someone who prides on himself/herself being an independent person, when I, myself, can see that he/she is still an unwitting slave to the things that the person admires and idolizes.

True, we simply define independence as the ability to not allow oneself to be influenced or confined by what society tells us is the right thing to do. It follows that a person who is independent in thought and action is automatically a kind of iconoclast, but an objective one.

Still, it amuses me to no end that even these people are often predictable, and just happened to be influenced by people or things that are slightly offbeat as far as most people in the world are concerned. All of us are, in some way, slave to the idols and ideals that we grew up believing. Certain things make deep impressions on certain people. To me it often seems that there is really no such thing as free thinking (barring the advancement researchable in Civilization 3).

But even these thoughts couldn't shield from the shock of discovering that the same thing applies to me. Not that I didn't know it already. It's just not the same, knowing something and experiencing something for yourself.

A necessary digression now in order to explain this properly.

I've long held a wish to write a novel - a series of novels actually - in my favourite genre, fantasy fiction for young adults. Some years ago I started writing it. I wrote three chapters and didn't understand why they made for such boring reading. I continued till seven chapters at a later point of time, thinking that the experience can only be instructive. It was, and I realized that I had to apply some of my experience in theater for writing the novel, as my characters lacked depth and individuality. I mean, they were all turning out to sound like me.

Ok, one obvious error in writing style discovered. I started over and wrote upto ten chapters this time. I still didn't like what I was seeing. It struck me that I'd completely neglected to build a picture of the world I was creating. In fantasy, this is even more important because you are talking about something that people are not familiar with. My characters don't live on Earth as we know it. I must pay more attention to describing places, landscapes, people, objects, etc to bring out the feel of the world I am creating. Back to the drawing board.

I started afresh and got till approximately the same stage. And, you guessed it, I was still unhappy with what I was reading. I was not striking a balance between making the book interesting in a continuous, absorbing manner; and building up the story according to the big picture, the overall plot of the tale that I had in mind. Worse, it appeared to be very similar to existing works of fantasy fiction. I know the overall story is quite original, but as I read it, I couldn't help but feel as though I've read all this before.

Nearly two years after I abandoned the project for some kind of a flash of inspiration or enlightenment, I finally understand. I just re-read Magician: Apprentice by Raymond Feist and realized that I've been subconsciously copying his basic characters in that story. That particular book was one of the first books I'd read in the fantasy genre that really made a huge impression on me (I'm leaving Tolkien out of the discussion for now...). And I know now, that I just have to change a couple of basic ideas and I'm all ready to start writing again. And revise it any number of times it takes to get it right. So far I've written about 30,000 words over all these attempts. I have no doubt that I will require at least that much effort again before I can get past those first ten chapters and be satisfied with what I'm writing.

Unfortunately I've already made other plans for my life over the next few years. Perhaps, by the time I'm thirty or forty I'd have written one complete book. For my satisfaction alone. I don't care if it's never published. But I know that I will write. It's as though it's in my blood. As though it's been prophesied.

Impressions.... they creep in, unnoticed, unannounced. They make us what we are, they make us believe what we believe. Perhaps it is only for the best.

Cheers,
Prashanth.