Even In A Crazy World Where Impossibilities Are Daily, Stories Are Important As Keepers Of Fictional Accounts Of Real Terrors

I Canz Poet

I have uncorked the creative part of me today. I am not going to say the block I had is gone, nor am I going to say all is well in creative land in other ways, but given the reality of the world today, I am pretty happy that I can lose myself for twenty or thirty minutes writing something that other people may like and distract them from the nearly apocalyptic, dystopian hell-scape we find ourselves in presently.

So, in the spirit of social distancing and yet sharing my love for a thing, I wanted to throw ideas out in the void and see if any of them stick to anything. I am not asking for feedback per se, but if you see anything that you think you might like to read, let me know and I will see what I can do. Mostly though, this is to shake the shit out of my head that has been floating around my head for a few months now and see if any of it is worth writing at all.

This morning I started on the Card, which I think will be a fun little jaunt to some unexpected places. Plus, it has been a while since I wrote something really, hardcore, in my wheelhouse and let me tell you without telling you anything, this is REALLY in my fucking wheelhouse.

I have this other thought in my head where I would just pick a song and write a story using the “plot” of the song. For example, if I were to listen to Hammer Smashed Face by Cannibal Corpse, then perhaps, well, I would write a story about that very thing. That is a little too obvious, but I think the point I was going for definitely got across. I got the idea while I was listening to Turn Around, Look At Me by the Vogues/watching Final Destination 3 where the song is used expertly as a part of the storytelling framework. I listen to a range of music and I think it might be a fun thought experiment if nothing else.

Thanks to two wonderful women, I know how and I know what I am going to write for the book like thing I am going to write. The Help is going to get a rather significant addition (Probably 25-30K words) and I will flesh out the backstory as a whole as well as specifically with the delight Edward.

I have not forgotten about the Goddess Siobhan, our Priest friends, The Authority, or even the Eight Mothers themselves, I just will, especially for the latter, have to drastically rewrite a lot of things and it will take a long time to both have the time, even during the near Shelter-In-Place we find ourselves in, and the energy to go through hundreds of thousands of words and pull the good and cull the bad.

The rest of the ideas are one-off stories that for reasons only known to the internal workings of my brain I do not particularly like to write. I am much more of an episodic writer and I think I would have made a fair living as a pulp writer back in the day, maybe I would have even penned a decent penny dreadful or two farther back.

For now, I am going to go and try and see if I can get my head to wrap around the chaos that is the world and make sure I have done all the things I need to do to keep me, mine, and My Tribe in the limited ways I can, safe from this pandemic that sweeps across the world.

That would make a really good story if it wasn’t so damn real already.

Once Someone Else Gives You The Answer, It’s Really Easy, You Know?

Butler

I think the issue at hand is that I am trying to use the wrong format to write things to the world every day. I wrote these, as you are all are intelligent enough to see, as a discussion twixt you and I. The problem with that is that the nuance of what I am trying to say is lost. Not by any fault of the reader of course, but by the medium and its particular lack of interactivity as a whole.

A dear and wonderful friend suggested a thing to me that I never thought of doing before, so I am going to try that, not today as I have plans, but I will start Monday I think, maybe Tuesday if the gym is too intense, but we shall see there. It won’t be a lot of work as much as it will be a lot of editing, a thing that I universally despise, but in this sense, I think it actually will produce a much better product than before and The Book, its glory indicated by its capitalization here, will be easier to begin I think.

No one makes movies where the bad guys win unless they are in some way horror-based, so I thought to myself many a fortnight ago that why do the “bad guys” need to be bad in and of themselves. I know it is one of those moral things we all need to make up our mind about, but I think it is easy enough to decipher, or not.

So, all that having been said, Dawny love, you are going to get precisely what you suggested and I am going to write about our dear Edward, I am going to start much, MUCH, before where you might think I am going to and I am just going to see where it takes me. I know I can write it, I did already, this is merely fleshing out the things that were already there and seeing them development in much more dimensions than I had previously let them exist in.

So, on that note, I am going to go take a shower because they are awesome and my muscles hurt and I will update things as things get updated.

RAWRZ Bitches

Take These Words Into Thine Mind And, Like A Magic Bullet, Pulverize Them And Make Of Them A Smoothie For The Soul. So Sayeth The Bear

Brain Amoeba

Since I have taken a break from social media, I have had a lot of free brain cells dedicated to the writing that I want to write, and with that having been said, I wanted to give you an outline of what I had in mind to write. Not that you need to know, but hey, maybe it is an interesting thing for you to read while you are eating lunch or something. If not, we still cool, I will get to writing the things as opposed to just talking about writing them here tomorrow.

I am not going to set a schedule, that makes it a chore and boring and we never want a passion to become a chore, right? So instead, I am simply going to make a goal for the week ahead and see if I can meet that goal. If I can’t, it’s all good, I will just keep doing it the next week. No pressure situations, just a rough layout is all I need to keep my brain focused on the prize, which I will end this very click-bait thing with.

I want to start heavily developing our good friend James in Pater Noster. it flows so easily and I love writing it, except the dialog. I loathe writing dialog. It will be my second-heaviest piece I think. It has a long time to go before it figures out what it is, but I have a decent idea of the roads it needs to take to get there and the adventure of the thing is the ride after all. I am shooting for three days of it a week, it is better when it is fresh and I have already bled a few ideas out of my brain since the last one, so it should be a relatively easy thing to accomplish if all goes to plan. if not should still be a fun trip anyway.

Now, I know some of you have asked for more of The Assemblage, so I will be putting a single day of writing up for them a week. I not only know what I want to do with the story, but I also have about twenty or thirty more 1,000-word pieces pretty much dictated in my head I should be able to pump and flesh out the characters and universe of the most powerful people on the planet. A few surprises I think, but isn’t that why we read? Isn’t that why we let our brains transport to a place and a time that is solely within the confines of the words written?

My beloved Siobhan will be the hardest and the easiest. I want to write something every single day. Each day. it flows like water when I put myself in the world of the Dark Goddess and now that they have a gal, an endgame, well, maybe we will see what everyone can do instead of just random stories that are disjointed and sometimes completely contradictory. Sister Mine will be happy with how much of it will be coming and that is all that truly matters as they are for her and I simply share them with everyone because I have been allowed to. Siobhan was my gift to her many years ago and the fact that I can still write her is delightful on so many levels. The difficulty doesn’t come in the writing but in the time management of it all, however, that is a Bear problem, not a hypothetical people reading this that aren’t Bear problem.

Blog things will happen when something pops into my head to write. I hate having to force myself to do them so, in epic fashion, I have noped that idea right out of my head and if I have something to say I will write it, if not, I will dive into pretend land and give you stories I hope you at least enjoy to see if nothing else. Poetry, Audio Things, CreepyBear, all of them are free time and noise level dependent. Recording a story in audio with three kids flying around the house with Duck Magic is simply not going to happen, so, expect some tinny-sounding phone audio of me talking to myself before bed for a bed until I figure out the things to do there.

Did I forget anything? Did I leave a thing you want to see out? Well, I turned comments back on because I am a masochist, so if you want to say something, request something, give me your PIN, the comment box is open. Or, you know, Facebook, Twitter, all the places.

RAWWWRS

PS. All of that is for next week, for the record, I am just going to do what I want to do.

PPS. Insert the if you like the content support me by clicking the Buy Me A Coffee Link at the top of the page.

PPPS. Pandering Over

Let’s Call This The Second Movement Of A Grander Opus Shall We? Or At Least Not Call It A Reboot Or Anything Resembling That. Obnoxious Word If You Ask Me.

Opus

From time to time, I feel this overwhelming drive to do a thing and, which is the crucial thing here, the motivation to actually get it done. I am sitting here this morning with both of those things on fire and am admittedly rather pleased with the situation because it helps me do things that I love to do.

Most of the things I write are either things I personally enjoy reading or words I write specifically for friends. I am going to branch out a bit from that today and show a little it of range.

I am doing this for two reasons. Firstly, the beautiful people who contributed to my Ko-fi yesterday inspired me on a level that is significantly difficult to put into words anyone, but I would understand to do more than what I have been doing. Since they did me the honor of helping, I am going to show them, and all of the other beautiful people who may read this, that I can write a few different things, not just overtly self-analytical blog posts and Lovecraftesque horror. I started my writing doing a particular item, and today, I am going to try and do that again.

Secondly, while the worst part of the year, on an emotional memory basis at least, is over, there are still a few more choice days that nail me right in the heart and if I am busy with writing and loving what I am doing, it truly will soothe the pain a significant amount as it has in the past.

I will not sit and tell you what the new stuff is, but I will say to you I am going to be writing a lot of Siobhan in the near future and, whether sadly or not, I am going to be putting The Assemblage on the back burner a bit to focus on the new things I want to try. Worry not, that one is going nowhere, I just need to use this drive to get the latest stuff out of my head. Worry not about me switching over to something that isn’t me in the slightest, I am not that good. I am just going to tweak a setting or two and hopefully show you something that you have never seen from me before and, the plan is, you will enjoy it.

All of that having been said, I need a few more cups of coffee before the Grand Experiment begins, and we can see what worlds I can shape from the clay of a fertile mind.

Righteousness Is Nothing More Than What Is Owed

The Dragon Walks

As the Dark Goddess trod the fresh avenues of the new world, the air and land shifted, the water flooded and receded and all about the new landscapes tales of decadence and depravity began. Every footfall was the myth of creation for a civilization, every soft smile the divine favor shown to a thousand religions and every laugh the keening wail of the damned as they waited their time in Purgatory for Her Judgment to come and damn them to the perdition that they so richly deserved.

Never hesitating in Her movements as She made Her way towards the setting sun, They Who Were She looked, honestly looked, at the wonders of the world that were spread before Them/Her and a smile. A caustic and dark world surrounded Her, the sun was nearly absent from it’s once majestic place in the sky as smoke, ash, and blood dripped from clouds or purple onto dying yellow grasses that hissed with an acidic burn wherever the vile droplets landed.

That is not to say that She was without mercy and love, however.

Those who sought Her favor always failed, it was a disgusting thing to watch people abase themselves before Her purely for their own gain and not because they desired to worship Her as She deserved and was righteously owed. These things were quickly disposed of without thought as one would a decaying fruit. Kicked out of Her way as She trod on their slowly liquefying corpses.

However, those who dropped to their knees in sincere genuflection as the Dark Goddess passed were granted fortunes and favors beyond imagining. Beauty, twisted and vile, were given to them and they became keepers of Her lands in the New World That Was and they were trusted for love brought them to Her, not a desire to increase their power or to kiss at Her with sycophantic lips. She made them stewards of the land, keepers of secrets, holders of treasure and farmers of miraculous fields of blood and bone. They thanked Her not with praise and worship, they thanked Her with carrying out the duties She had assigned them with perfection and loyalty. No thieving or falsehoods, dedication, and honor.

Their tales are not here, but their tales are great and beautiful just the same, written in the same book that is covered with skin and blood and written in ink from places where the mind hesitates to think of.

Then, She stopped.

In the distance, She could see a wall of brilliant yellow light. Her perfection did not spread to this place, and She knew She was where She was supposed to be and that all of the harms, slights, and injustices done to Them/Her would very quickly be resolved in a manner that would satisfy the honor of Their one half and the madness of the other.

With rage and wrath with Her, with darkness and dementia Her allies, The Dark Goddess finally walked to the Betrayer.