Meanwhile, in Lumaville
So, I've been creating an immersive transmedia experience within a self-consistent fictional universe. Think Tolkien's Middle Earth or that galaxy far, far away. Or Marvel, or even the the Dublin of James Joyce's Ulysses, or the intertextualized Midwest of Kurt Vonnegut and you get the idea. In my case, the scope is narrowed to the small American town (Sonoma County's Petaluma, CA) where I grew up and recently repatriated 20 years later.
Doesn't it seem like there should be a word in German for this sort of venture? I've coined it for you: geschichteweltmachen — or, roughly, "story world making."
The fictional Lumaville is a sort of psychic space laid over the topography of the places that have long inspired and haunted me. It operates as a kind of imagined parallel universe inhabited by a protagonist who is, likewise, a parallel version of its author. But with a far darker world view. Conceptually, I consider the endeavor literary performance art and I'll swear up and down that it's a true story if asked. Because, depending on your brand of physics, it is – somewhere.
Throughout, our protagonist and his cohorts occupy the liminal space between detective fiction, a certain kind of sci-fi, and the comic cultural signposts recognizable to the generation born under the sign of X.
Creating this fictional alternate universe isn't an act of fiction so much as reporting the history of another reality. This is the context in which I wrote my genre experiment Quantum Deadline (The Lumaville Labyrinth, Part One), its prelude The Late Projectionist. The tangential screenplays The 5-in-1, Super-Taster, and J00D expand the "Lumaverse" both laterally and cinematically. As of this writing, I'm developing a feature film for Part Two of the Lumaville Labyrinth.
Welcome to my world. – DH