I took a class in Abnormal Psychology this last semester. Had to take one elective outside the standard curriculum to advance to the next semester, and Abnormal Psychology was available as an option. So I took it, thinking it would be an interesting course to take. ‘Twas. Bumped into a few old acquaintances on the pages of that textbook. My final assignment was to submit a paper where I wax psychiatric about the biological horror masterpiece that is David Cronenberg’s The Fly. The professor would’ve accepted any memorable villain or antihero from a movie, so I opted to go all Sigmund Freud on the eponymous insect-human hybrid, on the assumption that Hannibal Lecter, Michael Corleone and Darth Vader would be done to death. Best homework assignment ever. Reminiscent of Grade 10 science, except I verbally dissected a Brundlefly. But why in the blazes doesn’t Disney+ have the sequel?
I actually halted working on the book for about a month. Mostly because I’d reached a point in the narrative where the focus shifts to the villainous faction of the story. There was a question I philosophically wrestled with during that time on whether the (impartial) third-person narrative voice should adopt a tone for this chapter that’s in any way different from earlier chapters that focused on the hero and his trusty sidekick. On the one hand I really want to convey the innermost workings of the antagonist’s head, but on the other hand I want to avoid telling the audience what to believe about him. A certain equilibrium between the two would be ideal. It’s a matter of knowing when to lean to one side and when to lean to the other. Not the easiest hike, but I’m forging ahead with it.