Short story - Maybe Tomorrow

 Apathy is my attorney, and my prosecutor. My liberator and my jailer. As I approach a bus stop on the rainy street, a van decked in neon placards drives by. It’s showing part of a phrase which I read before I can tune it out. ‘Fifth consecutive term for...’. I know the name, don’t bother to think about it any more. Elections are a joke, votes are merely displays like damage numbers above an enemy that will respawn no matter what you do. And unlike in video games, life doesn’t give you a restart button, cheats, save states, or the ability to just put the game down if you’re too frustrated with it.

I stand at the bus stop, looking at the faces around me. My mother told me once that this place used to be diverse, full of people from across the world. Now Pantone 720 is literally everywhere. Even the beggars are card-carrying members of the great colonial host. So I am, on the surface. But my soul is not, though that counts for little. They digitise souls now in the great silicon farms that we must conserve energy for lest they lose a few nanoseconds of profit. The same music plays. They don’t import music any more. Or anything. They don’t export either.

I step aboard the bus, settle down, watch. Something shows in the bus screens, a new update from someone I don’t need to remember. It is a declaration that we are strong, we are beautiful, we lead the world. No-one has left our country for nearly a decade, and no-one visits us any more. But that doesn’t matter because I am told everything is good, everything is perfect. We founded this country, we reached the Moon, we discovered everything that the rest of the world insists it did first. Our leaders won fair and square even when people say they didn’t.

I say apathy is many things. Because it coddles me from what is around me, and stops me from doing anything else. There is much that I might say, but I do not. What is the point for me? Others do speak, and I believe they are findable amid the new AI actors and AI films and AI bibles and AI policies. They’re throwing another AI ball next week for the Silicon Giants. I’ll never be invited, but I watch. That dress is nice. That suit is nice. Why is that person at the back being clubbed? It doesn’t matter to me. That shirt is nice.

Somewhere a siren howls. Somewhere people are screaming. I don’t look at the bus’s bulletin board as it flashes red. Maybe the leader needed to talk about their latest social media post. They do that a lot these days, from their wheelchair with pipes covering all parts of their body. How old are they now? It doesn’t matter, they are healthy and always will be healthy. They aren’t riddled with heart trouble, dementia, or anything else. They are healthy, and we believe they are healthy.

My apartment is at the top of the building, where no-one can get to for cleaning. I accept it, it is my pay grade. I accept that this world will not change, that people will not change. People used to talk about change, but that shifted. Someone said something about rigging, another person said germs were good, another said life began before it began and must be respected. My mother died giving birth after someone made her pregnant against her will. We don’t mind. It is as we are told, and as we are instructed to believe.

My social media feeds are exploding as I ascend in the lift. A new trend, a new mega ultra super important thing is happening somewhere for someone. I must be part of it or I shall be missing out. Play this game, be outraged at this comment, follow this fashion trend, scream this song at the top of your voice. This is the new hotness, and I can’t smile. Why smile at something that has happened a million times before? And always with the same words, rearranged to fit.

I enter my apartment. It smells odd, but then it always smells like something. We are told the situation will improve, that we shall be fed more, that we shall extend into the infinite horizon.

The smell is coming from the further side of my apartment. I look at the hole there. It wasn’t there before, a hole I barely remember. It is a hole in my room, in my world, in my life. A hole through to the next apartment, which is blackened and melted into nothing. Somewhere again a siren is howling, somewhere else again people are screaming. Nothing for me to worry about. No-one on my social level has anything to worry about.

I lie down on the bed, and go to sleep, ignoring a new blast of sirens in the streets. Something very bright happening outside. Maybe I’ll find out what happened. Maybe tomorrow.

New Author Talks episode; the Time Travel discussion

 Another year, another attempt to do something vaguely entertaining. I previously noted that it was planned, but things ended up being...dragged out. This time for the first episode, it's an exploration through the medium of Author Talks focuses on time travel, and its use in one particular cult series. A series I kinda liked but also kinda didn't like but then liked again then really didn't like and then appreciated for what it tried to do and-- If you want more coherent thoughts and analysis, the episode's down below. Enjoy!

YouTube version

Spotify Version

Writing as a bisexual; being the quiet one.

 Last month, it was talking about my relationship to gender. This time, writing with my own sexuality in mind in a modern world where performing sexuality is...a thing, unfortunately. This post was inspired by Emily Inkpen's own article on the topic, "Writing Queer Experiences as a Bisexual Woman". It's only within the last five years that I realised there was nothing wrong with being attracted to both men and women. I found women attractive and alluring, but then I started having the same feelings for men and wasn't processing it well internally. I wasn't acting out, I just kept it bottled up to work through. And I found that just because I liked both didn't mean I was potentially promiscuous or anything. I was just me.

I fully admit, my experience with real life is limited. Due to various factors, I don't get out a huge amount, so many of my experiences of queer representation have been through media. And on the whole, bisexual characters have it pretty rough. Either they are labelled as gay or straight if they settle with one gender or the other, or are given negative character traits such as commitment issues or some variant on classical depravity and personal issues. Truth be told, one of my upcoming stories has elements of that, which will need to be addressed during edits.

Something that I've ended up being conscious about with regards to my characters, as I tend to put both men and women in my casts, is the inevitable "shipping". Obviously "shipping" happens regardless, but it's more the tacit assumption that of course man and woman will get together. It's not a fact of life, but it's a dictate of the society we inherited from the Victorian middle class that man and woman must get together at story's end. Some of the great narratives have been permanently crippled by this pressure.

I've also found a penchant for writing a certain type of character dynamic; a duo where one is gay, the other is straight, and they aren't the same gender. Or having the only real romantic element be outside the straight zone. I used to be concerned about this kind of thing, wondering what people would think. Then I realised that I shouldn't have to care about it, and if I just wrote what I wanted to and stood my ground, that would be better. Not just for others on the LGBTQIA+ spectrum, but for me. If I could write bisexuals with stable lives and characters, gay and lesbian relationships that weren't tragic or traumatic, trans and intersex characters living their best life, and asexual characters able to be who they are without being judged.

It's genuinely tricky to write about the queer experience when you haven't been that greatly immersed, having spent a lot of time online and living in an out-of-the-way part of the world where I don't know if someone being very openly queer would go down well. It helps that my usual gender presentation is very subdued male-coded, to the point I've heard some people surprised when I mentioned my orientation. But I've also learned through that and my tastes in fiction to never, ever judge someone by their external appearance. Because of that lack of stock or weight in external looks, I tend not to gravitate towards extravagant or extroverted characters. Instead, I've found myself writing people who are...just people.

That can make me feel almost guilty, combined with the fact that as a white man, I've got several engrained cultural prejudices working in my favour. Surely I have to be loud and proud, it's the expected thing, it's the norm! I say, who sets that as the norm? The more I looked, the more it felt like what started out as a genuine sign of rebellion against the establishment is now being encouraged by the establishment to act like an ID tag, and because of that I don't see people like me. I see angst and flamboyance, which is all well and good, that does happen. But it's still saddeningly rare to see.

I guess this is less about writing as a bisexual man, and more about writing as me; someone retiring, shy, a listener and writer who still likes to talk a lot, but also likes his quiet times. I'm not a party animal, I'm comfortable in my gender. I don't fit into the 'pattern' that it feels like queer romance or queer existence is still being squeezed into. I understand there's an appeal of seeing any kind of queer representation, but it's starting to feel rather one-note. I'm pleased there's increased diversity being pushed through, especially now with basic freedom of expression under attack.

I write as a bisexual man regardless of what I look like, and write to include as much diversity as my stories and characters will allow. And I try to write about my own experience of bisexuality; the sort who's just part of the crowd, walking down the street in everyday clothes, but still able to--to appropriate a phrase--have my emotional bread buttered on both sides.

Looking back at my study books...

 So, I've been going through the process of getting myself an English Language and Literature degree with the Open University. Still got stuff to do (not the end of Academic year yet), but in the name of education, I needed to read through not one, not two, not three, but...FOURTEEN books. As a reader, on the one hand, that was great. But as someone who had to read Dickens during my Level 1 studies last year, I also know that some of these pieces were likely to be something I didn't enjoy and would be going on an out/charity shop pile. So I'm deciding to make use of them outside my education and post my opinions on these fourteen books I had to read through between October last and now.

Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray: This was easy to assess. I enjoyed it. I also enjoyed the greater academic insight given into this definitive piece of Gothic literature. I'd already read through the story via audiobook, so this was an easy yes in terms of keepers. I still think most people focus far too much on the sexual elements of the story, which if you actually read the darned book play third fiddle to other themes, but it's still interesting.

Zadie Smith, White Teeth: Our first dud destined for the out pile. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure this book has fans and it's interesting to look at how it's written. But it's also a prime example of a culture I wasn't part of, and I don't mean it's Muslim Indian and Jamaican diasporas (the former actually resonated with me a lot because Batley, where I grew up, had a Muslim Indian community dating back to the Partition). I mean how White Teeth treats subjects like suicidal depression, marital relationships, Islamic radicalisation, and cultural pressure to conform. It treats them all...as jokes, ala lowbrow 90s comedies. Seriously, the opening chapter plays a suicide attempt as a joke. The 'wit' in this book either hasn't aged well, or was always in poor taste. Also the ending... Very Dickensian in the worst way.

Sylvia Plath, Ariel: The Restored Edition: I'd never encountered this poet's work, and it's not for the faint of heart. Even untangling it from the context of Plath's own struggles and tragic death which followed hard upon completing this collection, these poems aren't for the faint of heart. Self-doubt, dark pasts, familial strife, all feature as themes here. This edition also comes with Plath's reproduced type-written versions of the poems, complete with amendments to the rhyme and metre. I'm stull not sure whether I'm keeping this one, but it...has something. Just not something I'd dive into for comfort reading.

Colston Whitehead, The Colossus of New York: Another one I'd never heard of, and one I'm definitely keeping. This exploration of New York City, dated to around the same time as White Teeth, explores not from the POV of a travelogue, but more akin to a bird's eye view. As if the city itself is guiding you. And in this case, the wit of the writing has aged pretty well, and the context is deliberately ambiguous enough that you can see more than just one demographic enjoying this. This book doesn't self-isolate through being of its time, it makes itself timeless. A keeper for sure.

Wordsworth and Coleridge, Lyrical Ballads: I'm gonna say it, Wordsworth is one of the most boring and uninspiring poets I've come across. There's only one of his poems in this absolute slog of a tome, 'Michael, A Pastoral Poem', that I think even vaguely enjoyable. The book as a whole is standard, droning, and if you know anything about real rural history insultingly patronising and romantic. And don't even get me started on Wordsworth's 'Introduction', which says with fifty words what could be said with ten. Coleridge's 'Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner' is its one redeeming property, and I don't need to keep one book for one poem. Out pile.

Anne-Marie Fyfe. No Far Shore: Described by Fyfe herself as a book of 'lyric essays', this is a strange little thing and not one I expected to enjoy as much as I did. Baring one poem about a dog trapped in a harbour, I found everything enjoyable, engaging, and entertaining. There's a distinct quality to this book that's difficult to quantify beyond; it's good. Being someone who lives near the coast myself, it resonated with me strongly, and how Fyfe incorporated poetic elements into her prose was something else. Keeping this.

Patricia Grace, Potiki: A story I didn't know I needed in my life. I've had some mild contact with Maori culture through pop culture influence, but this in-depth piece of work from someone within the Pākehā (colonial white-Maori) population was truly eye-opening. There's a fine dance along the line between low fantasy and social history, immersing you into the culture. It also has a strong anti-colonial message, and ultimately a hopeful message. A keeper for sure.

William Shakespeare, Measure for Measure: This doesn't need much space. It's just the notorious problem play in an academic edition with a massive introduction and footnotes galore. I enjoy Measure for Measure, and this book has good reference material for writing essays and similar, so keeping it.

Abdulrazak Gurnah, Gravel Heart: Again not an author I'd encountered, and once again I was impressed. It's not a read I'll go back to in a hurry, because oh boy is it a hard read. If White Teeth is the over-optimistic and jokey view of the immigrant experience, Gravel Heart is a more realistic and occasionally cynical one. The main draw for me was its examination of a broken family, familial expectations and abuse, and the outsider finding something of value in a place they're othered in. Keeping it, but not re-reading for a while.

George Orwell, Essays: You can really tell a lot about Orwell as a person from this collection of his essays. From his anti-colonial stance to the complete lack of faith or belief in any kind of governance, to the remnants of Imperialism that colour how he sees and talks about non-English groups. Many of these essays are also quite funny to read through, and led me on a bit of a rabbit hold about his life. So, yeah, keeping.

Thomas More, Utopia: This book...is such a waste of space in my shelves. I didn't connect with it. I got it a bit more after having gone through the first half of the book, not just the second fictive half as most seem to. But still, it feels more like something for academia than pleasure reading. Interesting to see how the concept of 'utopia' emerged and how different it is for a Tudor man compared to today, but... Yeah, out pile.

Mary Elizabeth Braddon, Lady Audley's Secret: A crown jewel of sensation fiction, and one of the best books from the Victorian period I've ever read. The writing is so good, sparkling even, and the story kept me hooked even when it strayed into the stereotypes of its day. Braddon has crafted one of the great anti-heroines, and her writing has aged magnificently compared to others of her day, or even most others that came decades later. Keeper. I also got her Aurora Floyd for good measure.

Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden: This is a good piece of writing, no question. A classic, indeed. And I'm keeping it. But... Some parts of how the story changes during its second half really don't sit well with me. I came to this after having watched in my youth the 1993 film version, and there's a shocking amount of context they add without actually changing the narrative. They also keep Mary Lennox as the focal character, while the book basically boots her into the chorus in favour of REAL PROTAGONIST COLIN NO FOR REAL HE IS THE MOST IMPORTANT CHARACTER IN THE BOOK FOR REAL WAIT COME BACK HE'S REALLY IMPORTANT. Can you tell I don't like this shift?

Isabel Allende, The Stories of Eva Luna: My very first exposure to South American literature, and also my first dip into what has been called 'fantasy realism'. And I couldn't have struck a better first time. Written in a Scheherazade-style narrative of loosely-connected short stories, this book hooked me hard and wouldn't let go. I was lost in its stories of love, connection, innocence, and the subtle magic of reality. A keeper for sure.

And that's it. Fourteen books, fourteen opinions, and only three definitively going on the out pile. Quite an achievement. Here's to reading for pleasure and for learning, and to not hating books after needing to study them.

Me, Gender, and I.

 

Provocative title? Yes, but it'll make sense when you read the rest of this. Also, yes, potential trigger warning for people dealing with issues of gender identity and associated discrimination.

I decided to write about this because recently, in a context where I was just sharing something fun, I believe I was on the receiving end of what I think was indirect transphobia. I referred to a character I'd created and was playing as in Baldur's Gate 3 as a trans man. And...well, suffice to say there were some gif-based comments that made 'feelings' felt. I felt happy and bouncy, enjoying playing as this character. And I got...Obama Raised Eyebrows and Bruce Willis Look of Horrified Disgust? I don't know whether it was the phrasing or the fact I just mentioned it, but this otherwise inclusive community that I shan't name here and I'd been on the edges of for fun showed a proportion had seemingly excluded the "T" in LGBTQIA+. I've left that community, never to return.

That interaction reminded me of a part of my youth that for a long time I thought was just silly. When I was under ten years old, I once thought I might become a ballet dancer. Of course with how I've grown I'm now too tall and the wrong build. But the dancers I saw, and the characters I enjoyed most in the media I consumed, made me think something; I can best sum it up with the sentence, "Maybe I'll become a woman at some point."

At that point, I didn't know anything about biological sex, presented gender, chosen gender, questions of sexuality and gender dysmorphia, or the whole thorny issue of transgender people's right to be who they were. I was brought up in an immediate and extended family with a lot of strong-willed women, most of my fictional role models were women, and my private life didn't have any solid gender binaries forced on me. My sister and I wore similar clothes, and the only people I'd ever seen wearing skirts were complete strangers.

This initial feeling was from the 1990s, when the infamous Section 23 was still in force in the UK. You know, THAT bit of media censorship. As I grew up, I became more settled into my biological and presented gender. I did see some bits of media that played into unpleasant tropes and stereotypes including the depraved lesbian and a trans character being treated as a punchline. But I didn't know about the prejudices, so they didn't connect with the "you must find this funny" part of my brain. In fact, in the latter case, I didn't find it funny. I found the rest of the movie funny, but not that bit, because I didn't understand why it was supposed to be funny. And when I did understand years later, I still didn't find it funny.

I've now come to fully accept myself for what I am; cis male, bisexual, and while I don't broadcast my sexuality I'm also not the type to be uncomfortable around those that do. If anyone's seen me being stiff, I'm like that around everyone I don't know. It's my shyness showing. But when I get to know something, at least in a 'we know each other by sight' situation, I just see everyone as people/ Straight or queer, anywhere on the spectrum, cis or trans or fluid or neutral, we're all just people. Anyone can be great, anyone can be mean, most are just average and normal.

I'm very fortunate in that I've had an upbringing that left me without internalised homophobia. I have near relations that are on the spectrum, I myself am on the spectrum, and I've made a circle of friends and colleagues who are either within that community or completely open-minded and chill. I'm glad of that, but I think that early internal fluidity about my gender was a seed for what would grow. I used to cringe at that early idea, but now I'm just content to remember when I thought changing my gender was as simple as shapeshifting in fantasy.

All this is relevant now as the LGBTQIA+ community are coming under attack from discriminatory laws, and the world is leaning more conservative in its governorship. Also the world is inured in another time of open and brutal war, where people want stability and are more liable to lash out at groups who are seen as out of the ordinary. Which is why need to remain obvious and push back against laws that seek to belittle and hide us. This applies across the world at the moment, including the UK. Just remember those times in your youth when you had silly ideas. They can be the gateway to a tolerant and inclusive view of the world. And they may help you walk away from a community where you suddenly seen a deeply unpleasant streak of discrimination.

My new video: An analysis of Cocoon

 

I've been intending to make this video since November last year, but other stuff (including a failed project I've written about recently) got in the way. Getting this together into what I believe is my most ambitious video project to date, I hope people will enjoy this analysis of Cocoon, a 2023 puzzle video game that incorporates elements from the abstract, cosmicism, and maybe even a touch of Lem.

In this video, I not only do a rough story rundown of this game -- which features no dialogue and no text and no voice over of any kind -- along with its thematic parallels and some developer titbits on the story. This is truly an analysis, but not one that goes into extremely over-exhaustive detail on why that rock is the shape it is. This isn't one of those. It's meant to entertain, and be digestible, as well as informative.

I hope you enjoy!

Video link

The Hard Truth: Failure Happens

 So....since last month, I've been doing a thing. It's a thing that I thought would be fun and enjoyable and entertaining and all the rest of it. Instead, it's becoming wearing and frustrating and eating up time I want to spend on other things. And it's doing something much worse: it's eating up my ability to actually enjoy what I'm doing.

I'd decided to do something along the lines of a commentated Mass Effect playthrough. Me as a writer, and a fan of the series despite its many issues. And I've reached the point where I'm recording stuff from Mass Effect 3. And now it's hitting me. My mood's been growing worse, my engagement with this project is growing worse, EVERYTHING about this is making me feel worse overall. And it's not just that I'm getting little engagement with this, it's that I'm getting NO engagement. And if I'm doing that, I might as well just enjoy it in private and do stuff I know is sound.

I already created a video for my Author Talks podcast on the series, and I'm not pretty sure I should've just stopped there. I did once do a runthrough for fun of different video games, "AER: Memories of Old" and "Sphinx and the Cursed Mummy", but that was different. I had to read out dialogue, I was more engaged. This time, it's starting to feel like going through the motions. And looking back on episodes, I realise I wasn't actually SAYING anything worth saying. It wasn't very funny, it wasn't very engaging, I wasn't very emotionally invested, and there weren't that many bits and pieces that were actually talking about something. I was just tooting my own horn, which...is something I need to do as a writer. But not like that.

Not that this aborted project hasn't taught me things. It's given me more of an insight into putting videos together which will be a lot of help going forward. I've found out some stuff about sound editing that I need to do.

It feels completely demoralising on one front that this project which I've put about two months of my time and effort into is just...nothing. But on the other hand, I can now enjoy going through the rest of Mass Effect 3 as a game that I have fun with. I probably won't abandon this kind of thing entirely, but it won't be for this series. It'll be for something else that I can just...enjoy doing. And talk about properly. Because that's what I like doing with you, talking or writing about things. Encouraging some kind of dialogue within your mind. And this video series wasn't doing that.

Failure is hard, mostly because we both can be judged from outside, but also because we realise that we had the responsibility to a point of realising the project probably wouldn't work. That doesn't mean don't try new things. If I hadn't tried this out, I wouldn't have known that this isn't the format I'm fitted for. I enjoy piecing things together, creating analysis videos, not walkthroughs.

And if you enjoy analysis and walkthroughs, this is a video I'm still very glad I made. And I hope to be able to create something I'm equally proud of going forward. For now, it's time to chill, destress, reclaim Mass Effect as a guilty pleasure I actually enjoy rather than dread going back to, and refocus on the important things in my life. Stay safe, stay happy, and see you again in the future.