Nine Inch Scales Mid-Story Retrospective
Now we are half way through the chapters, I thought I'd share a bit of insight into some of my favourite scenes: what inspired them and how I wrote them, starting with Chapter 1 - Pretty Hate Machine.
I repeatedly listen to the albums each chapter is named after during writing. There are particular scenes built entirely around certain songs, and I can't wait to talk about them when we get there.
But for now, I want to share some insight into the first live performance scene of NIS, because I think it sets up what the story is about quite well. Research wise, I watched a lot of janky and hand recorded live videos to get the right vibe of the era in which it is set:
Now I'm Nothing/Terrible Lie, Lollapolooza 1991
Sin, Toronto 1994
Sanctified, New York 1996
That's What I Get, Live Hate 1990
Get Down, Make Love, 1989 - 1991
Suck, Metropol 1991
Ringfinger New York 1991
While NIS is not RPF, I certainly borrowed a lot from Trent Reznor's stage persona to write the earlier chapters, which you can probably infer from how I portray Crowley.
Here's a couple of snippets from Chapter 1 that were informed by the above:
Crowley began his trademark gentle hiss into the microphone, his voice layered in the soundscape like a serpent whispering secrets in the dark. The crowd went completely silent with anticipation. Along with the strange clicking noises, the intro sounded for all the world like great mechanical pistons, pumping away.
***
The lights went a deep, pulsing red, and Newt’s guitar snarled in time. Crowley wrapped the mic cord around his throat, gasping theatrically with each moan in the reverb. He dropped to his knees and writhed on the floor, his hips jerking in time to the beat. A roar swelled from the pit, and the crowd surged forwards. It was obscene, eclectic, and sacrilegious, and the audience screamed for more.
***
I found myself coming back to this quote by TR, "When an instrument fails on stage, it mocks you and must be destroyed," and I knew I'd need to end the scene with a big equipment destroying moment:
He turned, eyes locking on the keyboard. The keyboard. The one that had disgraced him earlier by playing a sour note that still rang through his skull.
He jumped, feet first, slamming into the synth. Keys scattered like teeth knocked loose in a fist fight.
“...than give you control!”
The synth squealed under the impact. Crowley raised the mic like a dagger, and drove it into the exposed circuitry again and again, wires splitting and sparks jumping.
But the damn thing kept screaming.
Crowley seized it with both hands, frenzied with adrenaline, lifted it high above his head with a snarl, and hurled it skywards.
If you've enjoyed the snippets above, you can read up to chapter 7 of Nine Inch Scales on ao3 here.
I release a new chapter every other Friday, with chapter 8 scheduled for release on 27th February.
