Love

My good friend Sam West once commented on me and my housemates. He said Dom is the poet, Joe is the experimental, Chuck Palahniuk one and then he said “but you (me) are the tortured, dark one.” I suppose the tragedy of my stories has been commented on in the past. My roommate, Joe, has spoken on the subject many times but I make sure my stories are not depressing, hopefully not even sad, just tragic. I hate it when I pull away from stories or films and look around for the nearest rope to hang myself – depressing pieces of art do not interest me. Sad and tragic pieces of art interest me. As well, of course, as the occasional chick-flick – Nancy Meyers is one of my favourite directors – and hopeful endings and even the odd happy ending. Alas, I do like to write tragedy.

And what better thing to write about tragically than love – the thing everyone has experienced, whether it be the love of a pet or a child or, the worst kind of love, the love for another person. I guess the dark side of me is saying that all love is tragic, that in the end you will separated from your love, whether it be divorce, different interests, growing a part or death. I recently watched The Notebook with my friends Elly and Vicky and hated every minute of it. I was waiting for the tragedy and then they gave a silly plot twist at the end – not going to give it away – that made it tragic. But then again, just to contradict myself, I find Romeo and Juliet frustrating. I guess I am just very picky with the kind of tragedy I like.

There’s a wonderful – and bitter – quote from Neil Gaiman’s Sandman comic books on love and I think everyone can relate:

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defences. You build up a whole armour, for years, so nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life... You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' or 'how very perceptive' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a body-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. Nothing should be able to do that. Especially not love. I hate love.”

As angry as this quote is it’s very true. My roommate Joe is obsessed with the film (500) Days of Summer – and I have to admit it is a wonderfully accurate film – and it’s that kind of brutal honesty that interests me. Looking back on the stories I have written – and there have been a lot of bad ones from the age of twelve onwards – I have created a lot of dark, tragic loves. My teacher once turned to me and asked if I could ever write a happy ending. “No,” I replied, “because that’s not interesting.”

Like all writers I write for myself and I write about tragic love because it interests me. In my story ‘Shifter’ – a post-apocalyptic world set in Cardiff where I live – there’s a death between the main guy Mortimer and a woman he falls for, Jessica. In a story I need to re-write – called ‘The Game’ – there’s a dangerous relationship that ends in bloodshed and betrayal between Eli and Sybil. The list goes on but the relationship I am most proud of – the last ‘long story’/novel I finished – is something called ‘Til Death Do Us Part’ which needs a bit of work but is the most tragic and the most honest relationship I could write.

Some people say trust no-one, you are the only person you can trust, don’t open up your heart to anybody but that makes no sense. If you don’t get your heart crushed on, if you don’t crush other people’s hearts then you don’t feel anything. You have to feel something to experience it. You have to understand what love is in order to write about it or talk about it or understand it. Tragedy is part of life, as is love and when the two morph together well, you’re in for one hell of a ride.