I was at a very low point in my life in 2007. I was in a relationship, but it was long distance and it was starting to affect us both. I was supposed to move to Sheffield in September, but the University of Sheffield was using a Mexican company to handle all entries and paperwork for overseas students. This company lost my files, and blamed me for delivering everything late. The University offered me a late registration, but I declined, agreeing to apply in 2008 but directly.

With all plans scuppered and with my morale at an all time low, I became withdrawn. I did neglect myself for a long time, and only bothered feeding my parents’ pets while they were on holiday, I barely ate.

I had a lot of plans for my return to England and had to deal with reality. My way was through writing. So the first thing I wrote was about a guy who suddenly wakes up on a bench. This bench was on a shopping street in Birmingham. The guy was Mexican (I know, I know) and was offered a ginger nut by a passing old lady and he realised where he was once he read Gregg’s on the wrapper. He then ran to the nearest phone and called Laura, his one true love, and cried with happiness.

It was just a quick idea I wanted out, but it blossomed into a story that mixes both science fiction and star crossed romance. It involves some time jumping. It has time travel too. It’s a bit much, if you ask me, but I come back to it every six months or so, trying to decipher where I’m taking it. It splits in half, with a before apocalypse and after apocalypse time, and although the central character, called “Not-sam” even if it’s really me, is thoroughly deconstructed by the storyline, he comes barely off as a good guy at the end.

Then Oblivion came out and I loudly blurted out “son of a bitch!” as the story progressed. There were a lot of similarities with that flick, which I love, so back to the drawing board I went. I’ve been working on it for a long while, trying to add other characters, reducing the mushiness and getting some inspiration from abstract music (for the apocalypse section) and UK indie stuff (think mid00s indie sleaze in general). I’m close to finding a middle section, but beginning and ending, they are done.

The beginning was easy. The ending wasn’t. I had the idea in my head, but I couldn’t get the emotional core correct. M83 came to my life thanks to Top Gear’s race to Norway episode. I was blown away by Moonchild and started consuming M83 non-stop. While we were stewing in our misery during lockdown, I was really feeling as low as I did in 2007. I wanted to write, the cursor blinked in front of me, and I had M83 playing on shuffle.

Where the boats go came up and for some reason, I felt overwhelmed and started crying. I had recently lost my dad to covid, I was missing my life in England (again!) and I was thinking of a friend, Gabriella Kakonyi, whom I missed with all my heart and whom I’ve lost all contact with. So goes life.

I heard the song on repeat, endlessly, for what seemed like days but it only was a few hours. The pain and sadness that I felt came out and I had the ending of the book ready. I went to sleep, woke up and read it again, and still loved what came out.

M83 is truly a magical band. They’ve been my port in the storm for so long that I can’t let go of how instrumental they are to this particular novel (which I swear I will finish soon) and how they make me feel. This song is super short, but says so much more in barely a minute than some albums can’t in an hour or so.

-Sam J. Valdés López