Mercy! Mercy! That Dang Nabed PERCY!

Tombstone

Tombstone


I must be on the right track. Things are starting to flow better. Today I will leave the last 5 Chapters denuded a bit…(All relating to Teresa’s death has been edited out)…concentrate on finishing it up….at least in draft….but you know what? I bet I find an excuse to do something else. It’s not that I can’t write it….I wish that were the excuse. It’s just that I’m procrastinating and I don’t for the life of me know why.

Here is what I need to do….I need to change the name of my Portagonist and delete all mention of Torquemada. Then find some obscure historical figure and use his identity (Not his name) to hardwire the novel into the past. That way it becomes animated with the “Great Spirit.” Then I go back through and begin adding in all that cool research stuff….with moderation of course so it firms up the story without weighing it down. Finally I will have to decide if a revenge chapter will be included or let everyone live happily ever after.

Concurrently I keep going back and tweaking the “Whole Enchilada.“ Now that there is no word constraint I can add in some of the background and exposition I am often criticized for not showing.

Which brings us back to writing sensual prose….The whole idea for the novel came from the class I took last quarter and a requirement to write a piece on the Inquisition.

This whole experience with the ending of the Novel has been weird. Being connected externally to a larger piece of the cosmic puzzle is not something most people want to admit…. Yes I know what the church goers say but sometimes I get the feeling that even they don’t believe it….that they’re afraid not to. People talk about their muses but I wonder how real to them these spirits really are. Do they believe at a gut level in them or is this just some sort of artsy notion that is cool and popular to talk about?

People like to read about historical events because it connects them to something. Imagine how it is that we are alive at this point in space in time and all those who came before us are dead….They lived lives very similar to ours….they were born, grew up, loved, raised families, grew old and died….Over and over again and you know what? We’re next. Where did all those people go….what happened to the sparkle in their eyes.

I am the treasurer of a rural cemetery that goes back before the Civil war to when this state was still a territory. There is one marble monument (Must have been expensive) that marks the passing of a six year old girl. On a foggy morning as I drive by I can almost see the farm families gathered about her grave, clinging to one another in sadness.