At the time, my unconscious assumption was that the brain/mind was to be understood as information processing. This was in the late-60s, the early days of computing. In the mid-70s, however, I became involved with meditation and tai chi. Re-thinking mind, I became convinced that little bits did not add up to make a whole. In other words, data did not add up to make the mind. Atoms and molecules did not add up to make objects. Becoming a 70s dropout, I spent hours in meditation and tai chi.
Until this time, I’d never taken much note of poetry. Yet in meditation, whole poems would appear in my mind. And they would stay as an uncomfortable itch until I wrote them down. For quite a few years, I was highly itinerant while scraping a living from teaching tai chi and relaxation classes. With me went an increasing paper burden of “spiritual” poems.
Later on and married, my wife was part of an exhibition called, Hebraic Connections. I put in a self-published book of my poetry with the same name. It has since become a collectable and sells for slightly more than the original price!
Over those years, I saw a fair number of gurus - either in Australia or in India. Quite a few were pretty shonky, reflecting what is known as the left-hand path. This means that as meditation deepens, psychic abilities may (seem to) appear and the searcher concentrates on them rather than on the inner search. It is these characters who provide tension in a narrative.
So when I became more settled (conventionally employed), my writing focussed more on guru-types who follow the left-hand path. Initially, this led to a gentle quirkiness. For example, in one little story a teenager exudes wax from his ears while he sleeps. So he sticks a string in his ear and concentrates on making candles that he can sell at the market. During this quirky period, the main influence on me was Terry Pratchett and his Discworld.
So my writing was quirky, but not horrorble. Now, I hadn’t seen the film based on Stephen King’s book, The Green Mile. Nor did I have a particular interest in horror. But one day, I picked up the novel and began to read it. I became an immediate convert to Stephen King - and to horror.
Horror comes in many forms. The worst kind can be read in the newspapers. Just as children like to be chased, adults enjoy the more controllable horror that appears in books. In fact, writers derive an unholy glee in describing destructive zombie hordes or plagues of biting vampires. The problem, and the fun, with these and other eldritch creatures is to find new ways of presenting them.
Which brings me, in a rather convoluted way, to my story. Penumbra wanted stories of exploration in a speculative fiction setting. My story could never have been written by one whose beginning was the Number. Nor even by one whose middling was the Word. Dare I say it? It required someone willing to explore the darker shades of fantasy.
So, from the humorous fantasy of Terry Pratchett and the scarifying horror of Stephen King, Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you ArachnidMan - a humorous yet scarifying slant on first encounter.
Barry Rosenberg was born in London, then moved to Australia after completing his PhD. Since 1997, Rosenberg has lived on the Sunshine Coast with his artist wife, Judith.
He started to write poetry in 1974 and moved onto short stories and plays. Most of his stories are quirky or speculative fiction. It is only in the past few years that he has been active in submitting his work. His short stories are available on Amazon. The Buddha Leaves, Rosenberg's paranormal e-novel is available at jaffa BOOKS.
Barry invites you all to join his Yahoo group.
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