Ariel
Writing the sequel to My Heart is The Tempest is breathtaking, mostly because the characters are caught in the process of discovering themselves and their real quest while discovering the island. The whole process of creativity seems to be transformed and lifted to higher spheres because of the wonder permeating each character’s approach to their new world, and because of the world itself constantly transforming. It’s like a dream coalescing before my eyes, because I can actually experiment with form and content in a way which simply didn’t fit in Volume 1.
As usual when I deal with a new book to be developed, I’ve started from jotting down the backbone of the story, then I moved on to “dig” separate “tunnels” ‒ one for each character ‒ so as to focus more in detail to their nuances and psychological traits without the others getting in the way. Proceeding so, I’ve created a preliminary narrative arc for four of my main characters so far, including protagonist Sycorax. That doesn’t mean I’ve written everything their is to say about them, but I’ve pretty much covered all the basic moments of their personal quest, including crisis, climax and resolution.
As far as I’m concerned, because there were both darkness and feminism involved, that was the “easy” part of the process. Now I have to deal with the most difficult part, which also include actually writing the villain as a fully round character. But that cannot be unless I deal with another key figure first: Ariel. That is why, after developing the most of Miranda (though I’m not done with her yet), I’ve shifted my attention to Ariel. I’m finding him a much more difficult character to write, probably because he’s neither dark as Sycorax (and other mystery characters) nor as naïve as Miranda, so finding the right timbre to describe his transformations as fuelled by the island is proving quite challenging. What I like about him is precisely what connects him to the island’s breath and configuration as both a place and a philosophical concept. As in Shakespeare’s The Tempest, his connection to air and music will be crucial, though in a very different way. In his poem (also inspired by The Tempest) “The Sea and the Mirror”, W. H. Auden declares Ariel to be made of songs: “when he is truly himself, he sings”. I don’t think singing will be a key feature of my own version of Ariel, at least not in Volume 2 of The Tempest trilogy. Auden also says that “the terms ‘innocent’ and ‘corrupt’ cannot be applied to Ariel because he is beyond good and evil; he can neither love nor hate, he can only play.” I like this idea of going beyond good and evil; it’s more akin to Daoist thinking than to Western thought, and this is what I’m interested in exploring while following Ariel in his quest. Transformation, process, and their relation to magic as music, and the other way round: this will be my guiding star in fleshing him out ‒ a contradiction of a sort, as Ariel is after all made of air… This is going to be fun!!
