Posted in fanfiction, fiction, imagination, Simple Plan, Writing

Jars of Clay – Simple Plan Fanfiction – Chapter One

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The ending is not the beginning repeating

Los Angeles
9th May 2014


Pierre called me. A first in a million years. I know. Exaggeration, but seriously. It’s not like we really had much to talk about in the last…lifetime. Not really. Not after all the lies. The betrayal. The hurt. Which, to be fair, wasn’t my fault. Nor his. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, really. Well, not anyone that actually mattered.

David once said to me that it was the industry that was the problem. Profound for someone who had difficulty pinning things down at the best of times. Though at the same time not surprising, since he is a creative at heart. Pierre is too. Chuck on the other hand is a more logical person and that’s why he and Pierre clashed at the moments that counted. Seb and Jeff? Well, they were, are, a mix. And, oddly they were the least effected. Or, apparently so.

Anyway… Pierre called me. Wanting to talk. About an idea he had. Oh, and the fact that it was his birthday and he wanted to catch up.

I’m thirty-five, Pat…and none of us are getting any younger… His words. And, so true. Though sometimes I feel a hundred years old after everything that’s happened.

I guess I’m not making much sense, am I? What am I even talking about? Well, perhaps I should start by saying that this is a story about a band. No. That’s wrong. It’s a story about five young men who thought they were a band. I mean, they were a band. But…it’s complicated.

Oh, and it’s my story too. Though, I’m more a bystander than anything. Pierre would vehemently disagree with that. And so would the fans. They call me the sixth member of Simple Plan. Kind of them…and not something I take lightly.

I see myself more as the person who’s here to tell their story. Makes sense, right? I was their web guy, and merch guy, and videographer, before they went all pro…well, before management pushed me out. I’m not bitter. Many would say I’d be entitled to the emotion. I gather they just didn’t want me looking too closely. Not that they needed to worry about me.

Pierre Bouvier was the crack in the perfect vessel that the Label had created…

* * *

I was telling you Pierre called me, and I never did get to the point, did I? Well, we talked about banal things, as you do. And then Pierre dropped the bombshell.

Chuck and I are getting together to write songs.

I’m still trying to get my head around that.

The traffic right now is going slow as I sit here on the highway. However, it’s still going faster than my brain. I’m on my way to Pierre’s to find out what the Hell is going on. I don’t even want to hazard a guess… it’s too shocking if I’m going to be completely honest about it.

My phone buzzed at me. Shifting gears and checking my Bluetooth connection, I answered with a grunt.

“Where are you?” Pierre.

“Stuck in traffic, dude.” I grimaced at the long line of cars ahead of me, no end in sight. “I’ll be there when I can…”

“Get some beer; David just rocked up in a complete mess.” Pierre sounded distracted, which wouldn’t be surprising if what he said was true.

“David’s in L.A.?” I said and shook my head, squeezing the steering wheel.

“Yeah. He lives here, remember?”

I scratched my cheek as I finally passed the tollbooth. “I didn’t forget. He was away.”

Pierre scoffed and said, “Right. Well, see you soon.” He hung up after that and I heaved a sigh as I continued to wait for the traffic to move.

* * * * *

A million years later… well, again, not really… and I could see the apartments where Pierre lived with his special girl. No, he hasn’t a girlfriend. I’m referring to Delilah his Chihuahua. I sat for a moment in the guest parking chewing over what I was likely to witness. And as I sat there a beat up rental pulled up next to me, and a familiar bald scalp came into view. I blinked then rolled down my window.

“Stinco?”

Jeff halted next to my window and smiled as he said, sounding equally as surprised, “Pat? Did Pierre call you too?”

I nodded as I got out of my car. “He tell you what he’s up to?”

“Yeah, and I don’t get it. But, guess we’ll find out what’s doing, eh?”

Slapping my palms together, I felt like my head was going to fall off my shoulders as I made my way for the entrance.

Pierre was standing there. He must’ve seen us pull into the parking bays.

“Dude, where’s the beer?”

I groaned, shaking my head and slapping him on the shoulder as I walked past him. “Hi to you too, Pierre.”

He half smiled as he tapped his fist to Jeff’s. “Took your time.”

I rolled my eyes as I took the stairs to his floor two at a time; his statement wasn’t even worth a response. And, I really just wanted to get this over with. Whatever this even was.

“And you couldn’t even get the beer.”

Stopping at the top of the stairs, I turned to face him, feeling this sudden wave of anger rush through me. Irrational, I know, but I had just driven for God knew how long to find out what the Hell he was up to and I was in no mood to be treated as if this was some normal visit.

His pupils dilated as he must’ve seen some of what I was feeling flash across my face.

“Fuck you, Bouv. I didn’t come over here to be nagged.” Pierre recoiled at my words, opening his mouth to protest; but I didn’t let him get a word in. “If you want me to stay, you could at least be civil.” I turned and stomped into his apartment, not realising a shocked David was standing just by the door.

I only realised when he was suddenly wrapped around my shoulders and his too loud voice was in my ear.

“Hey, dude! Dude! You’re finally here!”

I smiled as I managed to extricate myself from his arms and turned to face him. David hadn’t changed, much. His hair was longer, though. And he looked older. But, didn’t we all?

“David.” I couldn’t really think of anything to say, so just nodded at him. He didn’t seem fazed, though, grinning at me before spinning on his heels and heading further into the apartment.

I followed him into a spacious living room, dominated by the grand piano that Pierre had purchased in a fit of passion a couple of years earlier. I remembered asking him why he bothered. He just shrugged and said he thought it looked cool…

David plopped himself down on the bench, kicking his feet out.

“Been a long time, man.”

I nodded as I remained standing in the middle of the room. “Yeah, I never did call you.” And I felt bad about it.

“You were hurt as much as the rest of us,” Pierre said as he and Jeff joined us. If that wasn’t the truth, I really don’t know what was. But, I believed I’d moved on from all that.

I shook my head, slowly. “It’s no excuse, though.”

Pierre clapped a hand to my shoulder and said, “Maybe not. But you always come back to us.” My brow furrowed at his words. He gave me a meaningful look as Chuck walked through the door that lead to the kitchen, carrying a case of beer.

“Hey, Pat…a little help here?”

I allowed myself a small chuckle as I went over to relieve him of his load. He heaved a sigh and smiled at me muttering his thanks. I nodded, setting the case down on top of the piano. David raised his eyebrows at me. I ignored him as I snagged a bottle and turned to face Chuck, and Pierre.

The latter was leaning against the large windows, facing away from me, his brows down over his eyes, expression dark.

“You going to talk, Bouv?” I said. His shoulders lifted as his eyes slewed toward me.

“Must think I’m crazy, Pat. After what I said.”

I smirked. “You and Chuck, writing.”

Pierre tilted his chin down. “Oui. You know how things were between us.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. A nervous gesture, I knew. He closed his eyes then said, “We’ve come a long way from the kids we were back then…”

I had to agree with that.

We were too young to know what we really wanted back then.

Too young.

Too naïve…
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Posted in fanfiction, fiction, imagination, Simple Plan, Writing

Jars of Clay – Simple Plan FanFiction – Master Post

So, I would love to share with you one of my band fictions.  This is one I began writing last year almost a year ago.  I’m only just getting back into it as I’ve had no inspiration.  But, for some reason inspiration struck today.  So, here we go.

~~~~~~~

Jars of Clay

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The band is manufactured and the world doesn’t know it. Pierre Bouvier is beginning to become disillusioned with the charade and cracks are beginning to show.

This story will be recounted by the band’s closest friend and confidant, Patrick Langlois, and will document the rise and fall of one of the most beloved pop punk bands in the world.

For like jars of clay, they were broken, discarded…but Pierre isn’t going to give up on them. He is going to pick up the pieces and put them back together again. To create a beautiful, real, thing.

  1. The ending is not the beginning repeating
Posted in imagination, my thoughts, my writing, Writing

Why Do I Write?

I fell into writing almost by accident.  It’s not something I gave conscious thought to when I was younger.  Reading a lot probably started me on the creative path, though.  Having stories read to me by my parents were probably also a stimulation for my own growing imagination. I know that I started telling myself stories when I was very young.  A lot of it was, come to think on it, a reaction to life’s situations. 
The very earliest stories I remember making up in my mind were of a German Shepherd dog called Daisy.  She was not an ordinary dog by any stretch.  Daisy was large, with prick-ears.  Her coat was short, thick, tan and black in colour.  However, her most distinctive feature was her tail.  It was broad and flattish like that of an otter; the most striking feature though were the four spikes on the end of it.  Like a Stegosaurus’ tail.  Interesting, you say?
Well, I know she manifested in my mind because I wanted an imaginary friend who could protect me from school bullies.  At around the same time I was reading Jack London’s Call of the Wild and so the main character from the book, ‘Buck’, evolved into Daisy’s brother and companion.  Added to this was the fact that they were talking dogs.  Talking animals were a big thing with me then, and for many years, especially after reading Wind and the Willows, Animals of Farthing Wood, the Brian Jacques Redwall series and others like it. 
Of course, the tales of Daisy and Buck evolved to include, amongst others, a talking Siamese cat called Ming, two unicorns, Moonbeam and Sunbeam, and a talking Malamute.  I even had an ongoing dialogue in my head that included the Phantom of the Opera.  Don’t ask me how that came about… my stories didn’t always make sense. 
Later on, when I started high school, my stories changed to include my high school crush.  And is, I will admit, the catalyst for the still ongoing story that goes through my head today about the Rebels’ of Scotland.  I’ll tell you about them another day – they have a whole history surrounding them.
My writing was always a release for me, in a sense.  I just wanted to get the stories out onto page.  I used to handwrite everything, still have a lot of my notebooks filled with my writing.  But, now I do the majority of my writing on my laptop.  I guess that then made it easier for sharing?  Though initially I only had one audience.  Myself. 
I write first and foremost for myself.  It’s an extension of my stories in my head.  But, when I started writing fan-fiction I started to think that maybe people would like to read the creative ideas I came up with.  And, so now my audience is the wider internet community.  Initially just the Simple Plan fandom and now I want to reach more people.  Though my number one audience is still little old moi. 
Writing for me is a very fluid process.  Sometimes I have no idea what I’m writing until it falls out of my head onto the page.  Stream of conscious writing is something that’s great when I get a brand new idea.  Usually happens at two in the morning, though.  Other times, I have an idea for a story and plan out the characters and the ending before doing anything else.  
But, mostly my stories start with the characters.  They’re not always fully formed when they appear in my mind; but, I know a little about them.  I usually learn more about them as I write, and they always surprise me, as the characters in Shadows Creed did.  This does effect the length of time it takes me to write my stories. 
My longest Simple Plan fan fiction, Adeline’s Choice, took me four years to complete; and the aforementioned Shadows Creed, took over three years.  But, it’s a process I enjoy, most of the time, except when I get writer’s block and then I have to either stop or take a break.  Or, I start something brand new.  As long as I enjoy it, that’s the most important thing.
That’s the thing about writing; for me, I enjoy creating different worlds and exploring the characters of people and how they respond to different situations.  Or using the same character and writing them into different situations, as I’ve done with my Simple Plan stories.  Pierre has manifested in many different ways in my stories and that excites me.  Though I’m enjoying creating my own original characters as well. 
So, I guess the main reason I write is for entertainment and enjoyment; though after I’ve written a story I can often see a message coming out from what I’ve written.  And, though that was never the initial intention of my writing, it’s always insightful.  And I believe all my stories have some theme or other, I just don’t usually set out to write that way. 
Now, though, I do want to write stories that are meaningful.  I don’t want to write something that doesn’t impact people.  Because, really…I write stories because I want them to impact myself, so why not others as well?  I read to open my mind to a world of imagination.  Which kind of reminds me of this one story I started writing, which I may share with you at a later date. 

So, why do I write? To entertain and to spread some joy in the form of creative, imaginative expression.  (Even if the story is sad….I don’t always write happy endings…but that’s life, right?)