Digital Is Better – Side C (Part 4.1 of 8)

by Simon Deayelle
12th March 2022

A08 – An Idea

Jules was looking at the fields flying past us in the moving train.
"Do you remember Sam?" I asked her.
"Sam the Pyrate?
"The same." I confirmed.
"What about him?
I thought he is dead. I remember very well how you murdered him. At the end of the last story. What did you call it....
Was it Pyrate-Sam and the sunken treasure of..."

"Pirate-Sam and the Stinking Treasure of Cipolla!"
I was rather proud of that at the time.
Back when we were kids, I used to tell Jules, and whoever else wanted to be around us, stories of the dangerous adventures of a fearsome pirate and his almost as fearsome crew. That is until I outgrew my interest in buccaneering. I decided to end Sam’s plundering days with a horrible death.

"I thought about revisiting him.
Explore his life in more detail, especially his time before becoming the terror of every sea, lake and puddle. Find out what kind of person he was in his younger years.
How he came to be who he was. Was he born that way or merely a product of his time?"
I was not sure where I wanted to go with that. She could see it in my face.
I was hoping she would say something, anything, that might give me an idea for where to start.

"You know, I would love to hear more about him. It has been a long time." She once told me that she enjoyed watching me tell the stories. A lot more than the stories themselves.
It reminded her of something or someone. I don't know she ever found out.

"What do you have in mind, though?
You're not going to write a book for children based on Sam, are you?"
The mere thought worried her.

"Or is it a, what do they call it, a coming-of-age story?"
She seemed less worried about that.

"That's the problem. Or part of it.
It could be that he came from a long line of thieves and scoundrels and that his being born at that time pretty much meant he'd take his heritage to the seas. Was he aware of how he was growing up? Surrounded by friends and relatives, one more crooked than the other.
Or maybe he finds out that they weren't his family because he was actually taken from a noble house as infant. And as a result, he finds himself an outcast and never understands why. Until he one day implodes and decides to become the worst of his lot, to show them he's made of their flesh.
There are so many options.
But from what I can tell they all have the same underlying problem: I can't shake the feeling that anyone who reads the book would be disappointed if there are no actual pirate adventures."

Before telling Jules that I was not aware of the exact nature of my dilemma.

"Would you be disappointed?"
Jules asked a question I could not answer.

"I can't say. I haven't read it."
I dodged the question. And she let me get away with it. She must have known there was no way I could give a better answer.

"What if you change the perspective?" I did not follow her.
"How do you mean?"
"For example, it could be about a younger sibling who hears the stories of a mad pirate and wants to grow up to and bring him to justice. And whilst the parents have their suspicions, they are too ashamed to admit it to themselves and their second-born."
Jules was giving me even more options, not what I hoped for.

"You're not making my life easier."

"I can not make decisions for you. I can only tell you how I go about making them for myself.
I only ever finished a small number of the paintings and drawings I started. Because often I realised they did not look how I envisioned. And only a tiny fraction of the ideas ever got me to pick up a pencil or a brush in the first place.

One thing I learned for myself that way, if you think an idea is bad, it probably is. And if that is the case it does not matter what anyone else might think of it, good or bad.
It is particularly tricky if someone else thinks it is a good idea and you do not.

I am the last person to tell you 'go ahead and write: The Lives and Tales of Pyrate-Sam' because I would be worried you would try to write a book that you think I would enjoy.
And it will be horrible.
So please, write something you would enjoy instead.
I am sure I would love to read that."

I had gotten stuck in a corner, and it was Jules that told me to turn around, so I would stop bumping into walls and continue my journey.
I looked outside the window, and back at her face.
I don't know what expression I had on when Julie screamed:

"That! Exactly!
That is the look on your face I want to see!"

It was after Jules said that to me that it hit me. Little pieces started to fall into place.
And I knew exactly what the book was going to be about.

"How about this..."
I could barely breathe.

"Do not tell me now.
Write it down later.
And when you are happy with it.
Then you show me.”

After that, she leaned back and closed her eyes. I think she was asleep within seconds.