So this is going to be one of those writing projects that I most emphatically do not whip up in a couple of weeks. There’s a lot to learn, a number of strings that are reaching out blindly to each other as they search for a way to become a tapestry. How on earth did China Mieville write Perdido Street Station? When you stop and think about the sheer complexity of that undertaking–the economic, political, social and racial ideas at play, and how they all interweave into what genuinely felt like an infinitely diverse and breathing city–it staggers the mind.
I don’t even know where to begin researching. Mongolian tribes? Modern american ghettos? City planning? Necromantic beliefs? I think this is actually going to take a long time to coalesce, and my concern is that I become so overloaded with information that it becomes to unwieldy to forge into a clean narrative. One point of view? Several? First person or third?
Still, it’s better than an arid of expanse of empty mindscape, devoid of creative energy and mutable shapes. So no complaints here.