I know, it’s a bit rambly but bleeeeh. I was up all night so I’m pretty shattered. In other news, I slipped on some icy cobblestones this morning and have a huge bruise down my back, I fell over a door step whilst carrying half a ridiculously heavy set of drawers and have taken the skin of my ankle and it is likely that I will need a root canal at some point in the near future so, y’know, yay for me!
I’ve been trying to write a description for The Caitiff; I figured I may as well have it all ready and raring to go by the time that I actually release it, unlike with Adjective Narcissism where I had absolutely no idea how to explain the miasma that that eBook was and spent hours staring at that description box slowly driving myself insane.
And here’s where I’ve been having trouble – I’m no good at marketing myself or my own work simply because I hesitate to offer it any title, genre, classification et cetera, et cetera – however, whilst I’ve been considering this I started thinking – what, exactly, would I classify myself as?
A liberal? – Perhaps, but I would describe it more as a generalised apathy – I do not wholly subscribe to a liberal ethos and I am far too angry to even attempt to classify myself as some post-generational hippie.
A Conservative or a Labour supporter? – No, certainly not – both parties are looking out for themselves but, much to my disgust, they are still the best parties we have in this awful political system – I have been raised Labour, but it is impossible to look at either party and say that they know what they are doing – Both are scrabbling about in the dark, trying to find a flashlight; occasionally they will search together and occasionally they will butt heads, neither making any progress towards the eventual goal of illumination.
A Revolutionary? – Not really, I am like most of my generation in that I don’t really care – the only way we are ever going to end up with a Utopian world is if we build said Utopia on the suffering of others; any Utopia or free world must be sustained by a Dystopia and slavery, as though the universe has a quota of misfortune to fulfil and it’s looking meaningfully at Earth.
A Punk? – Perhaps in some strange way; though I reject the dull, decent types I also find the indecent abhorrent. I find the alternatives repulsive in their desperation to be seen as alternative, perhaps even more than I dislike blind followers of trends and contemporary fashion, simply because they follow the same motivations, but through the filter of their own subcultures.
I could go on, list all the cultures and ideologies I have tried to fit in with but, I think, I am just too argumentative and miserable to ever really fit into a genre – jut line me up with the thought-criminals and the anti-socialites; I’m not as displeased with that idea as I probably should be.
In much the same way – though whether this is simply because I am so immersed in The Caitiff at this point that I can’t even tell if it’s any good or not – I am struggling to write a description for the piece. The narrative is less important than the character, but the changes He goes through and the thoughts He has are often so convoluted that they defy explanation in a sentence or two. One of the main themes of the text, in fact, is argued against by the protagonist towards the end and so I cannot rely on simple theme to describe the piece.
Ah well, I’m sure I’ll find something!