The latest challenge that I’ve been set is to explore the stream of consciousness form of writing.

Stream of consciousness ( SOC ) is a literary technique in the form of a narrative mode. It’s been around a while and is generally attributed to May Sinclair. It is worth noting that the term ( SOC ) has crossed over from the realms of psychology.  The first author which pops into mind when I think of this technique is Salman Rushdie although he doesn’t over use this technique I’ve noticed him using it in ‘Midnight Children.’

Now unfortunately for me, I’m not a talented writer. I don’t have a natural gift to just pick up new techniques, this meant that my first attempt at this was an abysmal failure. In defiance of my lecturer I’ve decided to research this and try and make a really good go of this.

I can simple say to you that I’m approaching this piece by writing down all the internal vocalisations that the character is having. What do I mean by internal vocalisations you ask? Well it’s merely the little voice you get in your head when you think. ( Well at least I get one ) I’m sure there is more to this however this seems like a good starting place.

And now without much adue my first second attempt at the stream of consciousness.

No one knows

Oh god… Why do I do this to myself? Bleergh! Not again. I feel so weak. What did I dri- Bleergh! Oh my god, my head hurts. I can’t feel my face. Hnngh Hnngh Hnnnn-Blergh! I’m shaking. At there’s nothing left in me. Hnn-ack ack! I’ve gotta get up. The floor is moving… Shit my knee! Oh no… I’ve gotta get up. I can’t stay here. Hnnngh… What was his name again? It’s not good being stuck to the toilet. Hnngh… The floor is cold. It’s chilling. My hands, my knees, my face my breasts. It’s all grey. Why is it all grey? It’s freezing. Who is he?! I’ve gotta get up. I don’t get it. I didn’t drink that much last night. Shit… I cant remember his name. Is he still in the house?

….

Christopher Nemo watched his latest victim from a distance. It was a sick voyeuristic pleasure that he took viewing, like a cheap stripper, Jen stumbling around the bathroom naked and otherwise incapacitated. Nemo was a predator a nasty piece of work to say the least. Normally he hunted the girls… Last night however was a treat, Jennifer Forlorne came to him. The bar she walked into was well known, her clothes, respectable and above all her demeanour friendly . All the things you’d expect from a young London bank clerk on a night out.

Jennifer spotted Nemo from across the bar. At first… A wink then a ‘come hither.’ One word ‘Hello’ turned into many utterances. Many utterances led to one drink. One drink turned into many… and when the fine young lady pops to the loo… Ro-hyp-nol. Nemo’s little white friend rears his ugly head once again. Jen and Chris go back to her place and make sweet, sweet love.

Nemo gets a free place to stay, a woman to stay with and anything he can lay his hands on and get away with. She gets sex she didn’t want, her things stolen, a hangover that won’t go away anytime soon and a damn dirty feeling

Too bad… you lose.

This brings us back to this pretty little scene. Nemo does this for a living and takes great satisfaction in his work.