So I am currently obsessed with a unique literary style I recently learnt about called 'Magic Realism'. Basically, it is pushing the bounds of our human reality in the most realistic, logical and probable way possible. No hint of how absurd the concept may be. You can find out more about it online.
Anyway, I am so fascinated by this style because of its uniqueness and freedom of form- it basically embodies all I find cool about literature and living. Murakami's 'The Dancing Dwarf' was the first piece I read, and it inspired me a lot. With magic realism, it is as logical to be sipping tea mid-air while conversing with the president, as it is doing so on the ground- you just have to make it seem so. And the characters are detached and largely aware of the absurdity of this- so cool.
Therefore, my creative advice today is to have a go at Magic Realism. Don't stress about it a lot- just have a go and have fun with it. All your wildest dreams as expected and logical as water boiling.
The perfect background track for inspiration: Ra Ra Riot's cover- Suspended in Gaffa
Have fun writing, and 'Be Creative!'.
Cathy
P.S Here's my first attempt - a short intro to a story I might develop. What do you think- weird enough for you? ;)
‘Just beyond there’, the young elephant pointed at me, jerking his trunk for emphasis. His trunk was a peculiar shade of green today, much different from the sterling grey coat he must have dyed it last week- it was obvious he had a cold.
‘Thank you- and by the way, a stronger dye would hide the colour easily’, I whispered before leaving.
The elephant blushed, but still mustered a polite smile. It made me feel a bit bad. Pehaps, I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I mean, it was a well-known fact that all elephants dyed their skin grey, but one of those things that no one really talked about- as distasteful as talks of apartheid or the holocaust. But I had thought this young chap may not have minded, since his trunk wasn’t actually the original pink at all- but a sickly green.
‘Well... goodbye then’, I murmered, shifting my feet awkwardly.
I was halfway there, I spun round for one last glance at the kind young elephant- now thinking I should’ve apologised for crossing the line. But of course, the elephant had already left. Honestly, sometimes I don’t get it. If I had pink skin like the elephants' I’d parade it everywhere- so pretty. And why they thought grey was a much more enviable hue- I do not know. I guess that’s elephants for you- always obsessed with looking the ‘part’- whatever that is.
