I mentioned the Mungk a couple of days back and realized that I may not have mentioned it prior, so that probably made little sense.
The Mungk is the novella I’m working on. I love the idea that all good stories are character driven, and I love to play with tropes, so to me, it doesn’t really matter how tired the trope is as long as the story is well done and the characters are well written.
Case in point: I wanted a simple story to write, so I chose one of the oldest tropes in modern storytelling – the monster under the bed.
Of course, in this case, the monster is a stand-in for both trauma and the microaggressions of the universe as they pile up and suck all the life out of us, and the story itself is bleak as bleak can be, but I feel like I’m doing some good work.
When I say the Mungk is upon me, it means I’m feeling drained. Defeated. The Mungk represents hopelessness. Fatalism. The loss of the will to keep going, to be something more than a mindless drone. Falling to the unfortunate will of the malevolent and the stupid, the cruel and the downright unjust. The just, coming home to roost because of your own behaviour. Your own choices.
It’s decay. Entropy. Everything falling apart and nothing good.
I try to ignore it. Understanding, connection, inner fortitude. These are the things that battle the monster. Whether they win is something else.