“To make something well is to give yourself to it, to seek wholeness, to follow spirit. To learn to make something well can take your whole life. It’s worth it.”
—Ursula K. Le Guin, Steering The Craft
Preface
This is an introduction to a serialized piece I’m calling I. Honda. I. Honda is a yarn in every sense of the expression: colorful and unlikely with no clear end in sight. That said (about the distant ending), chapters will be brief, sharing the four corners of Topical, Political, Mythological, and Speculative. Think Jaroslav Hašek’s The Good Soldier Švejk meets Anne Sexton’s Transformations.
The writing process misbehaves, of course—who knows if I’ll stick to the plan. Yet these touchstones are all about misbehaving. Maybe naming this will count for something.
Additionally, the intention is to record the physical typing (like, typewriter-typing) of every installment. See the below video:
I’ve been told that the video is nice to leave on in the background. Try it out and let me know what you think. I’m still dialing it in.
*You can find the actual typewritten draft in this video at the bottom of this post.
Privacy
Very little planning is going into the structure and content of I. Honda. I mean to write it quickly and post it quickly—admittedly, a dicey direction.
Why “dicey”? A writer’s process can often seem hermetically sealed, privacy often being key to making brave choices in poetry and fiction. Generally, a complete text doesn’t require the author to appear to explain their decisions—those decisions were made, and the finished text is the primary response to the feedback for that same finished text. Upon its submission to the glory, disinterest and annihilation of public interpretation, the only thing that can change from then on is the story surrounding the text, not the text itself.
Here, I’m imagining the sacrifice of long-term privacy as an acquisition of urgency. I. Honda simply must go on. And while I won’t be explaining all of my decisions in it, I may reflect on some. Writing this way does mean I’m open to feedback between chapters, though I won’t be relying on it and don’t expect to receive much of it.
Process
I think what appears here explores process as text as well. A kind of poioumenon? A story about the process of creating itself? Sure.
These drafts are malleable because they are drafts. Key details may change. But for the sake of the yarn, I will only double back if it is entirely necessary. If I do double back, it’ll be indicated in margins or notes briefly, though ideally these edits will be folded neatly into the chapters somewhere and somehow.
If Everything Everywhere All At Once depicted anything, wasn’t it the intense beauty of deviation? Of rewriting oneself? Of folds and layers?
Play
Why this way? one may ask.
I don’t know.
I like this way.
Looking over the below draft, I’d honestly change many things. But the rule I’m following for this exercise expects that I must post what’s typed if the general direction leaves me with some questions I’d like to explore further. Lets see what happens.
All this said, turn back now if talking crows and crashing planes sound like a bad beginning, middle or ending to your day. Turn back now if you only have time for what’s fine and fit and finished. Turn back now if you were going to anyways.
If you’ve read this short distance, you should know I mean to go a long way and hope you’ll join me.
Postscript
In the off-chance you’ve seen the newly released Knock at the Cabin, note that the footage of me writing the above draft dates to February 1st. I just saw the film this past Friday (2/10) and was amused by some coincidental imagery between my draft and the film.
Wow!
"A kind of poioumenon? A story about the process of creating itself? Sure."
I really enjoyed this aspect of your piece. It reads like a real life journey in that it's totally contrary to how writers are expected to write, edit, then share material. Really appreciate the spontaneity and vulnerability of that.