Just finished watching Tales from the City and More Tales from the City, based on Armistead Maupin’s series of books of the same title. I read Maupin’s books back in high school – in Nepal, I think – and enjoyed the whole saga of 28 Barbary Lane. The series is pretty faithful to the original text, as far as I remember it. At various points, I could hear in my head Maupin’s original narrative as the action played out. A bit surreal, definitely toned down, but generally rather well done. About half the cast changed between the first and second series, but I’m glad Mrs Madrigal, Mary Anne, and Didi stayed the same. Both Monas were really good and each seemed to exude the right kind of Mona-ness needed at that particular time. I preferred the original Mouse initially, but I got over that by the last episode.

As usual, I think the books were better overall, but is it really fair to compare a production necessarily limited by its medium and budget against the full scope of one’s imagination? Increasingly, I don’t think it is. Of course I wanted it to look the way it did in my head, but not even the most gifted of filmmakers could have made that happen. But then isn’t that why we keep trying: the hope that maybe, just maybe, we’ll get it exactly right this time? Which is why, if one must use tedious classical references, those who try to make concrete what they imagine remind me more of Tantalus than anyone visted by the muses.

Story writing is a pain. Mostly because I think of the way I want things to end first and then work my way backwards to what set them off in the first place. Of course, when you get down to actual writing, you have to do it from beginning to end–even the bits and pieces. When you do that, however, the characters or the situation have a pesky habit of deciding that they want to have a say in what happens too, and to hell with your well-crafted, oh-so-clever/poignant/meaningful/disturbing ending.

So I write about writing instead. It’s a great escape and it still passes for work because I’m still ‘writing’ and still engaging with the original project, if only as something to whine about.

The thing is, I’ve never written actual characters before. I do poetry, images, vignettes, all of which allow you to focus on the point, and only the point, not full fledged people with lives and relationships. I’ve only ever written short stories centered on violence and gore (I was a happy little teenager) where the characters were simply vehicles for the action, not people in themselves. Ah well. What’s the point of being here if not to try on different things for size, right? And I have to say I’ve learnt a lot already about what makes characters tick, how to make them more real, and so on. I suppose it’s just that I’m fundamentally uninterested in people I don’t know–until I get to know them, of course. Maybe the more accurate word is disinterested. So the thing to do would be to get to know the lot I’m writing about and suspend the point of the story till then. Sounds like a plan.

Talk about a long break. Things have changed quite a bit since my last post. I’m on an entirely new continent, back in school, working on a thesis and, most importantly, just writing again. I’ve met some amazing people in the short time I’ve been here, attended a wedding, learnt to ’swim’ (hey, if you can get from one point of the pool to another without drowning, it counts), started exploring Melbourne properly, really read contemporary Urdu poetry for the first time, bought *pink* Uggs (for Halloween), made kheer for Christmas, started yoga, taught French, received my new journal just in time–I was running out of space in the old one–taken care of a cat, learnt how not to fall over in a moving tram, fallen over in a moving tram, lost touch with people around the globe, gotten back in touch with quite a few people I’d lost touch with, discovered how cool the Aussie music scene is, and rung in the new year with a huge crowd at Federation Square, where they played the Cure and the Josh Owen Band covered ‘Get Up, Stand Up’. Now if they’d played early 80s Europop and New Wave, my life would have been complete.