It’s the first of November; that is, it is National Novel Writing Month season once again. Which is my excuse, if posts are spaced out a little bit. (The link is to Wikipedia, because the NNWM page is swamped every first of November.)
This is what I’m writing —
* * *
This is a story that begins with one of the protagonists waking up god.
Not as in, kicking one awake, but waking up and noticing his bedsheet has turned into a Shroud of Turin, and his tapwater into wine. He’s not all-powerful, not all-knowing, and not all-good (because what would be the fun in that?) — what he is, is confused, scared and on the run. (What from? Well, the police and Other Gods for starters. Just for starters.)
The main peculiarity of this novel is that it is not a novel of mysterious things happening for no reason except ooh shiny religion metaphor thingies; it is not an allegory of anything, or an insightful examination of spirituality. (The author knows some of his limitations.) Above all else, it is not a story where a materialistic secular person discovers the love of god and the sound of gospel and makes a leap of faith off the cliff of reality into the devouring blind mists of superstition and all you need-a have is have faith.
Atheists like me don’t write stories like that.
This one is a much weirder story, an adventure story, a story of logic and confusion.
* * *
— and yes, given that I have opinions, I’m conscious of the risk of producing 50 000 words of god-bashing, but trust me; I know the plot, and sort of know the characters I’m going to involve in it, and I’ve designed it and them to not be conductive to something like “I don’t like religion” times twenty-five. I’ve no interest in kicking straw men, and because my beef is with the idea(s) of religion and not religious people, I’m not going to go tilting at them as villains either. There’s no fun in that.
And yeah, this is going to be either a silly trainwreck, or… or a silly, entertaining trainwreck of a novel. I’ll tell you how it goes.
(PS. It’s in English, too! Variety, spice out life, etc. etc., the possibility of sucky updates of novelistic installments for forever, later! 3500 words done today, so far; will go eat now. Brain hurt by many big word.)