Ending The Curse


About a week ago, I got a letter telling me that my nan had passed away. You might wonder why a letter and not a phone call. My nan lived in the same house as my mum, and my mum threw me out of the house two years ago, and I haven’t been back there since. And although my nan lived in a separate household, and although I would probably have been welcomed there if I’d gone back, I couldn’t bring myself to go there. And so my uncle, who was looking after her, never realized what had happened, and we lost touch.
Yesterday was my nan’s funeral. I was determined to go. I loved my nan, and I feel bad that I never saw her again after that row with my mother. Nan’s memory was going by then, and she didn’t really know who I was, but even so, she was always pleased to see me. I didn’t know what sort of reception I was going to get from my uncle, or any of the rest of the family; so the day felt like High Noon as it approached.
In the end, though, it went well. Nan was laid to rest, and I had a chance to talk to my uncle, and explain. He didn’t bear me any malice, he was only glad I was there, and he understood now what had happened. Better still, I met relatives I hadn’t seen for years, we reminisced and caught up, and the hours flew by. It’s odd how jolly a funeral can get.
All though the week, my wife was fantastic in keeping up my morale, and she was wonderful with my relatives. I always think of her as my Princess Diana, the woman who makes me look good. She’s wonderful with other people, even complete strangers open up to her.
It looks as though the family home, the house where I grew up, will be sold, soon, and everyone living in it can move away to wherever they like; and I couldn’t be happier. It was not a happy house. To me, it seems like the House of Usher. I hope whoever buys it can put some happiness in it, and end the curse.
I come from a weird family, and when I see people from close families, I feel like I carry some curse with me; the curse which began when two generations of a family bought it and began living together. My nan was happy enough through her life, even right at the end when her mind started going; but there was a lot of sadness in that house, a lot of unnecessary misery. I genuinely hope that now my nan has passed away, the people in that house can find happiness.
*
My writing is going…okay. Cautiously. In fact, when I re-read my last post, it feels awfully melodramatic. All I needed to do, really, was wait for the clouds to lift. Which they have.
I don’t feel quite so bad about writing horror fiction now. It may be a lowly genre, but it can be done well or badly, and I’ve enjoyed writing it. I finished typing up a story to present to my writers’ group, and felt that it hung together pretty well. I think that even that jokey vampire story I mentioned last time won’t be quite as bad as I thought. In my experience, very often when you reread something of your own, it’s usually better than you remembered.
In any case, I’ve begun working on something else. Something which isn’t in a genre. A contemporary, mainstream, straightforward story. I had a story idea kicking around. I won’t tell you exactly what it is, you’re not meant to give away the details of a story you haven’t written yet, but supposing it was this: Cinderella updated. There was a little more to it than that, but not much. I was using an archetypal plot, anyway, like Cinderella, a plot capable of adaptation, one which I knew other people had used before.
Well, I had a reasonable story idea, but I couldn’t seem to bring it to life. In any case, I was sick of beginning projects with a story idea. I felt lately that my stories were becoming plot-driven, and that the characters were mere puppets to move about. Here, I had an opportunity to create a real character, a character who would move the plot, rather than the other way around. I have a conviction that, in the best fiction, characters make mistakes, even when the stories ultimately end happily (in most cases, characters should learn hard lessons as a result of their mistakes, but I can think of at least one story- Waiting For Godot- where they don’t). Here, we had the chance to follow a character trying to achieve a goal, making a mistake and learning a hard lesson. Perhaps even stretching to a novel.
Except I couldn’t bring it to life. I didn’t know who my Cinderella was, who my Prince Charming was (in the film Rocky, which is also a varation on Cinderella, the ‘Prince Charming’ was the fight with Apollo Creed- see what I mean about adaptation?).
Then I read Paul Chown’s post, which I reprinted, about creating character. And I began making notes about my Cinderella. I found it helpful, too, to make notes about my protagonist’s parents, too (my Baron and Baroness Hardupp- no Wicked Stepmother here). The results have been interesting, and I’m glad to say that I have written something every day this week.

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