Speculations of a Dark Nature – the triptych – is complete. The three pieces are available individually and in combination. Enjoy.
How did it come about?
Well, it’s a long story, see, and it started so long ago that I’m not really sure. But . . . my first published story happened when I was 8 (yep, eight years old and published – non-fiction). Of course, I’d been telling stories for a long time before that, but that was when I realised it was important.
And once I realised how important it was, the stories just kept jumping up at me. “Pick me, pick me,” they all screamed at me. They can’t be ignored; they come at you when you sleep, when your mind wanders even the littlest, tiniest bit; when you’re supposed to be doing something else (important of course, or boring, you know – that stuff). They can’t be ignored, or they get louder and more insistent and more determined to get you right where it hurts you most.
So, what to do?
Sit down and write the bits that come out hardest, fastest. Give them a covering of words that will settle them down for a while. Wait and watch and see what happens to the seed. Some of them take a long time to germinate, to pop up the next piece of their growth. Some burst up immediately and you have to feed and tend and nurture and train and trim and nourish – until the fruit bursts forth and can be picked and shared.
That’s what this triptych is: some of the more insistent stories that wouldn’t wait; the stories that wanted to be out there and part of the world.
Of course, some of the stories are already part of bigger things (See the Shadow serial and Beasts and Dragons for examples), and there are already hundreds more waiting for their chance to shine.
Short stories, even though they’re here and visible, are very hard for me. To give enough words to show the feel of what’s happening without too many of those precious words; to stop myself from filling out the bits and pieces and turning it into a novel (it will happen to some of the stories, though; that’s inevitable). I also have to leave room for the reader to think through some of those pieces – why does Inasit have to wait until her friend understands? Why doesn’t she just tell him? You know what, maybe in the long story, she will tell him, and tell him and tell him – and I can show exactly why he can’t hear the meaning behind the words; why so many of us don’t hear the meaning behind the words.
My job, as the story-smith, is to let these stories find a way to have meaning and reality and substance – for you. All of you.
And for me.