So I did something drastic and gave up drinking. Not that I really did it all that much anyway. My rule is, and has been for awhile, that I don’t drink alone. Partially because I think it’s pathetic, partially because it’s just not as fun to be drunk when you’re by yourself – and when I get tired of being drunk, which happens, more often than not, before I am actually sober, there’s nothing to do but to go to sleep – and then I have funky dreams. Funkier than they normally are. That’s saying something.
I did it, really, to maximize the amount of things that I get done creatively, since my writing is crap when I’m drunk. And because I find it easier to do some of the other things I do (paint, for example, and tarot, too) when I am sober. As far as painting is concerned, that is going very well. I’m nearly finished with the series I’ve sold… only two more to go, and then I can get that out the door. I’m working on a personal project right now for my own wall to replace some of the things that I’ve hung up there for awhile.
But the writing (and I don’t mean the blog) that is going VERY well right now. I’m working on two concepts.
The first came to me when I was reading this thing about reincarnation. It was an essay that proposed that we are all reborn, and we come back each time, with a purpose or something that we are supposed to accomplish. The premise was that children, until they are a certain age, often remember where they were before, or past lives, but then forget as they grew up. I’m writing this from the perspective of an adult that never really forgot. Simple enough, right… except this adult remembers EVERYTHING – all the other lives, what is between, and has since childhood. THIS person knows their purpose, and always did, but the problem is, no one else remembers. If what the essay poses is true, and kids really do remember who they were before and what they’re supposed to do, I can only imagine how frustrating it must be to just try to even talk about it to people who only praise them for their wonderful imaginations. That’s what I’m trying to do here with this – or at least that’s where it starts. I’m not too far into it, but it’s coming together nicely in its early stages.
The second project is loosely based off of Dante’s “Inferno” and the circles of Hell. It’s told from the perspective of someone who has committed suicide and who ends up in that seventh circle, trying to get out of it (and consequentially get to paradise). This is a challenge because I really want to update Dante’s perspective of Hell with more modern concepts. Right now it’s in the planning stages, so I’m taking it circle by circle. The seventh was pretty easy to do. The sixth hasn’t been. In the original “Inferno”, the sixth circle was for the Heretics – and it was a circle where those heretics could only see the world as it would be, not as it is. I played with this idea in two ways, though first I struggled with the definition of “Heretic” since that isn’t a word that’s used very often and in our more diversified culture, I don’t know that one could really call ANYONE a heretic. But then I thought, you know, who says I have to really “define” what or who the heretics are… I’m not sitting here trying to create a “correct” answer for religion, since this is mostly supposed to be for entertainment value (very unlike “Inferno”). The concept of the sixth circle of hell is what do these people see? At first I thought well, if the opposite of enlightenment is ignorance, then maybe I could just throw the people in that circle in sheer, impenetrable darkness. But then, after I thought about it for a minute, I decided to actually keep the futuristic theme that Dante started. I’m setting that circle in a post-apocalyptic world, though I haven’t fully determined what that’s going to look like yet. That’s tomorrow’s project.
Anyway, I’m writing a lot and that’s been good. I haven’t been able to turn out fiction all that well since “Charlotte” last year and the final part of that that I was missing came out of finally understanding who the hell she was and who she was waiting for. Whatever happens with Botboy, he gave me the ending to that and I guess I’ll always owe him for that one. And “Charlotte” was the first piece of fiction I’ve actually managed to finish to my own satisfaction since the Mordred story in college.
I’ve been reading the cards a lot too. Most of that came naturally to me, but I’m trying to get better. They confuse me sometimes. Because I do the spreads, and I see the answers in front of me, and I’ve been doing this long enough to know that they never, ever lie when they’re shuffled properly and when the deck is split. There are 78 cards in the deck. The probability of ones falling that are relevant to your current situation are… well… slim. And when you put them out, again and again, and the same ones turn up in the same spots over and over, despite how often you shuffle them – and when you get the same results when other READERS do the same, you can’t really doubt what’s being said. I guess where I have issues is with understanding how that final outcome will be reached. Especially when the current environment does not currently support the messages that the cards are giving me. Same thing goes for the runes which are an extension of the cards – same message, same things falling, just don’t understand. I guess that’s where patience comes in. Patience is not one of my virtues, but I am being forced to familiarize myself with it. It’s a hard lesson to learn.
At least I am lucid. I’m not drinking anymore, my mind is not distracted, and I can create the things that I need to create. I don’t sleep very much, but you know, sometimes I’m better off (at least creatively) when I’m running on caffeine and creativity. My ideas are a little off the wall, but sometimes it takes a little bit of insanity to make things believable.