"The best fiction is a journey of choices. From those choices characters are seen to grow, regress. When they choose, we choose along with them. That’s the nature of witnessing someone else with a decision to make."
I wrote that. It's true.
I am feeling a power that is unusual even for me. I am changing again, I can tell. Another level. I dread the change. I didn't used to know when it happened, but I know now as it is happening. I dread the change because I am going to invent more, produce more, acquire more knowledge, become the possessor of more truth; and that will all go into the work, which is not going to help--it's going to hurt. Until it does not.
That which causes resentment and impediment now is that which will reach and allow for the reaping later on. I must remind myself of that.
Stay the course. Stick to the plan. The plan is sound. Have faith, even if no one else does. What can they know? You know what you know. And remember, when we get there--never let up. Never forget. Always remember what was fought for. Always remember these days. The crying, the vomiting, the passing out, the total loneliness, the hate, the discrimination.
And remember: This is not a house of mercy. This is a house of purpose. Trust yourself. Trust your talent. Trust God, the universe, or whatever this is, even if you trust no one and nothing else. For now.
As mentioned, I completed the Fitzgerald essay. In addition to "Leavable," composed on Monday, yesterday I wrote a story called "Holds." Former is 900 words, latter is 575. "Green Glass Door" is a longer story that will be done soon; it is both separate from, and a companion work to, "Six Feet Away."
What if there was an artist who could immediately create a story for the ages, that is a definitive story of the now-ness of its times, stemming from that which is impacting a lot of people?
I don't think anyone else can do that. It's too hard for people to write a story on anything and complete it with the idea they happen to come up with, which can take years. I can write off anything as though it were my birthright, as though it were stamped upon my soul as that thing which I would eventually write about, on, from within. Any pitch you throw at me I can hit the same distance. It's something to keep in mind. When this time has passed, this stay in hell, always write those stories. They are works that will become part of the fabric of the zeitgeist. As "Six Feet Away" would right now. But the situation is what it is.
I don't normally do this anymore, but I printed out "Leavable" and left it last night outside Emma's door upstairs for her to read. There is nothing untoward in the story--there's no graphic sexual content or what have you. Not that there's necessarily untoward. But the emotion is so powerful--I was not comfortable sharing it with my thirty-five-year-old sister (due to the particular subject matter)--and maybe it is too powerful for someone that age, but I think Emma is different.
Still, that's quite a thought to have--that you've written something that is almost too emotionally powerful. As I create these works of the shorter word counts, and I think of them in their own group away from the stories in the other groups in the 100+ stories composed since June 2018, I begin to think of a book. I begin to think of a title. I am getting closer to knowing what that title will be. As with my characters, including the characters I have yet to invent, what needs to be made known to me will be made known to me.
I have had problems with my heart rate this week. My heart has been beating so fast that I have become dizzy repeatedly, which is different than whatever it is that has been causing me to randomly pass out for a while.
I always think of this as the anti-publishing song. And this the anti-publishing performance. It's great art. Connection art. I know we don't rate things like seconds in this world--well, I do--but if we did, I think it'd be hard to argue that the second at 2:43 isn't one of the very greatest in the history of people, common or otherwise.