Workshop – Page 2 – Seeds of Fear

On self-inflicted wounds

Recently, I have begun a new project, one that I would classify as a comedy with psychological horror aspects. It is told from the perspective of the source of all the horror in the narrative.

An unusual repurcussion has occurred in the course of working on the aforementioned project: my own mental state, without any bidding from myself, has taken a turn for the worse. I care deeply about the project, but must admit that I am wearied by it. The thought that something I write can have such a profound effect on its own creator is both alarming and encouraging. In the past, I have typically been most productive when my mental and emotional state drive my writing.

This is perhaps the first time that setup has been turned on its head.

Incarnate will continue to release every Monday until it arrives at the final chapter. Whether this project begins to come out before it ends, or indeed if it sees the light of day at all remains to be seen. My closet is chock full of pieces that compelled me at the time, but lost their glamour before their time. The encouragement I have received while discussing the idea behind the project has compelled me to give it great effort, and the moderate success of this website has meant very much to me as well.

I hope to reach many hearts, and in addition to striking a little fear, I wish to find a little common ground there. Though if your heart touches ground, you probably aren’t in good shape to do any reading.

Bereavement: Ending Sublime

Today, the final chapter of Sublime was released. As I have said before, I wrote this story some time ago, so the real achievement is in the editing and publishing.

Indeed, I edited this final chapter a great deal before it found it’s final form. In the original iteration, the character known as Ixhem explained a great deal more, creating far too narrow an understanding of the world of the story. It also did not give him the air I wanted for him.

Ixhem, like Zenith, is a character I have extreme fondness for. He is someone who broke free from misguided attempts to control him. But unlike Zenith, he does not seek a goal comprehensible to those around him. He is a mad god, a nigh-omnipotent beast.

What are these new gods? Ixhem’s “family” forms a warped pantheon, based on poisonous ideals. Each represents a facet of a core concept, which Ixhem himself embodies.

Indeed, one future I imagined for the world of Sublime was one in which Ixhem allowed each of his kin to temporarily assume greater influence than he, and cause the core behavior of the world to align with their nature instead of his:

A reality ruled by Pathogen is one of crystalline perfection. Impurities and weaknesses are trimmed away, softness is replaced with smooth hardness. Emotion is dulled, pain is quelled, and life slows as it is sedated. Time crawls in a twilight of consciousness, driven by necessity only.

A reality centered on Fortress is one of supreme efficiency, which subjugates and annihlates the lesser with cruel hatred. The weak are forced into hiding as a psuedo-police-state forms, creating a social hierarchy resembling a familiar dystopia.

Sublime in the grip of tower becomes a grim world of fear and pain, with constant exploitation and experimentation, with little actual progress. Somewhere along the way, the suffering inherent to the process of change becomes the goal.

Ixhem represents the purity of change for the sake of change, the defiance against endings. Once upon a time, a universe existed with an expiration date, a promised end in the form of a general dimming and heating up. With Ixhem’s ascension to godhood, this fate was dispensed with. Endings ceased to exist in a real sense.

This is true of the story itself. Within the narrative are the seeds of another story, a story that begins where this one ends. The toxic hell of Sublime is not content to exist, but must invade and expand outwards.

Ixhem desires to bring his creation to every corner of existence, and beyond.

No ending is absolute.

On Turning the Page

The last chapter of the second part of Incarnate has been published. Likewise, later this week the last chapter of Sublime is due to go live.

Changing gears is a process, one that demands renewed mental focus. As time passes one must adjust attitude to compensate.

My original plan for Incarnate was to see it reach this point, beyond which much was unclear. Zenith was a wholly different character in prototyping summaries, and in fact started as an entirely different character, one whose malevolence outshone their other traits by far. That he became as much as he has is a surprise, but a welcome one.

My love for this creation of mine is profound. There is something enriching about the thought of a vengeful sufferer. When haven’t we lusted for wrath in the wake of pain? So often are we expected to be the bigger person. Are we wrong to wish ill on those who misuse us? Is there no justice in revisiting the trouble they cause upon them?

It iis frustrating to be told that we must rely on the power and authority to right wrongs, when we know that power necessarily corrupts, and those who seek authority are often corrupt in the first place. And what of the scenario in which it is the authority itself that has done us ill?

Gratification is rare. A mind does not find peace, but imbalance in retribution. Nevertheless, the call to be avenged is irresistible. To destroy and self destruct in the process.

Letting go is typically the healthier choice, but can hurt regardless.

Ommissions

Editing is a cruel process. Second guessing, amputating, padding. Am I cutting away too much?

Todays post was originally a little longer, because it contained a bit of artful language that I elected to remove. I lacked for the second opinion that might’ve approved it in my stead, so I chose caution over bravado.

I may end up appending it to the story some time in the future, but that’s up to future me, a foreigner to myself.

On Incarnate 5

No particular notes today. My mind is rather tired after dealing with a number of personal struggles over the weekend.

Most of my thoughts now are upon the strange way one can write themselves into a corner where they are forced to create more and more rules which they are then forced to follow, causing a rather trying roadblock in the writing process, in which they are ever consulting previous sections to make sure they do not contradict themself.

I am passionate about writing. It is an exercise for an imagination that I have cultivated since I was a child creating stories with my toys. Had I the patience to improve my artistic skill, I might attempt to make comics instead. There is a pain in being able to so clearly envision something, and not be able to recreate it faithfully.

I think every narrative writer has at some point wondered what adaptation of their work would look like. How would this character be casted on television? What kind of depth would be apparent in a video game? Would animation have the freedom to depict all the subtleties and grand moments?

I am no different. I idly dream of expanding to new audiences, of importance. I certainly do not crave all the direct attention and drama of fame and success, but to have my work appreciated is always fulfilling, and money doesn’t hurt.

Whether success is on the horizon, or I am to drift in obscurity, writing sates my creative impulse. Content to create content.

Becoming: Sublime 10

Change is a part of life. While it is natural to resist change, one cannot do so without creating yet more change.

Perhaps the greatest pain is to be changed against one’s will. This is a concept I had been exploring at length when Sublime was my primary project. By now, many of the influences for it are likely obvious, and I cannot call it a perfectly original work. Indeed, when writing it, I had become entranced by a particular season of one of my other hobbies, a trading card game.

Having read Dante’s Divine Comedy, I was familiar with the concept of a layered Hell, in which each layer embodied the just punishment for a particular sin. In Magic the Gathering’s presentation of Phyrexia: All will be One, I found a new, hungry interpretation of inferno, populated with machines seeking to make more machines out of those who are not. It is a particular type of horror, centralized on the fear of forced change, and it appealed to me greatly, and inspired me to make my own.

In light of this revelation, I seek to highlight some key differences. In doing so, it is necessary that I reveal information about this world I have constructed, including spoilers for the story, and information that is not meant to be known during the initial reading. It particularly includes details about chapters not yet released. You have been warned.

Firstly, and most distinctly, the story does not take place in some other world. The world of Sublime is our own, though changed beyond recognition.

Secondly, the change inflicted by the world of Sublime is not so simple as becoming machine. Indeed, at key points, the ideal form is machine, but each layer of this hell has its own idea of purity. The surface seeks to create ideal scavengers, and to create such oppressive fear that it’s denizens are inevitably coerced down, deeper. The second layer worships hybridization as it’s pinnacle, seeking to apply the benefits of both flesh and metal. Below is a layer the story explores only briefly, but one that carries the greatest difference: a world that seeks the greatest experience possible, that pursues the purity of sensation itself. This layer was most inspired by the Hellraiser movies and book.

A final key difference I wish to convey is the true nature of the reality I created for Sublime. It is one of impossibility. The scale of the world is one that exceeds natural limits, and defies physical constraints. Each layer is separated by distances measured in lightyears, and yet can sometimes be traversed in seconds. Change is the very nature of reality, and what is does not stay that way for long. An unfathomable power rules this place, and governs it’s relentless reconfiguration. If I were to write a sequel, the world of Sublime would be nearly unrecognizable in it. Very little withstands the urge to change and become other.

In closing, I will speak on the future. Indeed, I have considered a sequel to Sublime, and have a few fragments of writing to that effect. Whether it finds place in public view remains to be seen, as I have not touched these fragments in nearly a year.

I worry over reception of my work. I worry that I may be designated too derivative, though the primary work I derived my ideas from- Dante’s Inferno– is old enough that it rather escapes copyright infringement. Indeed, I have peopled this world with my own creations, but one can never overestimate the designs of a corporate claim. Is it enough that my work draws on so many inspirations that no one can lay a full claim to being the origin?

In time, all things end. All things give way to others. Even the light put of by the sun will one day become a different color, and then fade out. Endings are a thing I do not love, but I have come to accept their necessity. Else I might be suggesting that a world like Sublime‘s should come to pass.

The future is the present changed. Perhaps this is why it is so frightening.

On Incarnate 4

The science of politics in a dystopian future has no real hard and fast rules. Modern experience tells us that personal motivations can sway nations, if they come from one with enough influence. It takes little to imagine despotic oligarchs making selfish and short-sighted choices that the less fortunate must suffer the consequences of.

I often worry that I cut corners too readily, that I overtrim the fat from the meat, and end up with something so lean it has no flavor. I am ever grateful, spitefully, shamefully, for the popularity of pulpy media. It encourages me to write more freely when I see a successful work I, being as indulgent in my pride as can be tolerated, deem to be shoddy for one reason or another.

Envy and Pride. In my frequent efforts to control my relationship with the world, comparing myself to others never fails to catch me. Good enough is a curse, a phrase uttered by those who do not possess it, and shunned by those who do. If you call something good enough, it surely falls short of what you desire. Likewise, one often chases perfection whilst claiming only to seek ‘good enough’.

In the end, I think I am best served by a mantra that never fails to bring a smile to me. “What’s good enough for me, is good enough for me.”

In the end, we are our own debtors. Only I can pardon myself the sentence I have delivered. I, as a Mad God, have one hand upon the gospel of my own making, and the other drenched in the blood of shortcomings known only to myself. The fat is trimmed by my say so, and the culling is concealed in the production.

It is by my hand too, that butter finds it’s way into the pan, that seasoning is applied. If I am overzealous in my pruning, it falls to me to correct my course.

Finally, the dish must be sent away with whatever garnish is just. And it is up to the customer to make of it what they will; beyond the doors of the kitchen, it is out of my hands.

Bereft: on Sublime 8

In comes the new year. Looking back always tells me that I’ve changed with time, though I did not feel it happening.

This chapter is the first to arrive truly adjacent to the one that precedes it. It also seems to hold much more in the way of comfort. In my pursuit of variety, I ended up seeking to recreate the sort of atmosphere that appears when the protagonist of a war movie awakes in a hospital behind enemy lines.

Again I make use of dreams, which will occur with some frequency in this story. In this case, the dream sheds some light on a earlier, omitted period of time.

I am a little under the weather currently, so I will make this short. A lot of my time these days goes towards the fervent consumption of media: largely to moderate my mood, but also for the cause of inspiration. I struggle to read tragedy as much as I struggle to write it. A relieving catharsis invariably feels better than a sorrowful one.

But, the real danger when writing is that, as long as the work is unfinished, tragedy can be unwrit. Characters can be ressurected. The sentiment “No one stays dead” in popular fiction applies here. But the world can only seem so dark when only nameless characters are allowed to rest in their graves.

To counter the previous sentiment, life tells us that everybody dies. One day I hope my work will mirror that clinical honesty. I want my work to have readers on edge, knowing the other shoe is always waiting to drop.

Anticipating the End

Incarnate’s overall first draft is approaching completion behind the scenes.

There are parts in the middle I intend to thoroughly edit and rewrite, but the overarching narrative is largely in the last lap. I do already have ideas for sequel material, but they are currently half baked at best. I also don’t think the story needs a sequel or prequel.

I hope to avoid premature celebration, so I’ll ignore the temptation to reflect in a profound way, and instead take a general view of this stage of the process.

There comes a point in every process where you realize the end is in sight. There are impulses at such a time, to either rush through what remains or draw it out. Part of the draw of a serial format is the opportunity to indefinitely extend the lifetime of a work, to repeatedly introduce conflicts to resolve.

However, at some point, the characters must either cease to resemble themselves via growth, or experience a frustrating regression, if the story is to be truly indefinite. Furthermore, one runs the risk of alienating even the most devoted followers by wasting time. A story must have an ending, even if that ending goes something like “And then something else went wrong, ad infinitum. ” The original The Princess Bride book has a pretty noteworthy ending in that regard.

I really could extend this series for a very long time, I have a talent for perpetually expanding the universes I imagine. But I think that despite myself, I’ve come to appreciate the power of an ending. Besides, once I close out the draft, I still have many weeks of editing and publishing to keep me busy while my next big idea develops. Not to mention, I may yet release some of the more lighthearted work I make in the shadow of projects like this.

Not every ending is a new beginning. But every beginning deserves a satisfying ending. And if one thing is certain, it’s that I love starting sh*t.

On being Wretched

I believe my favorite book is and always will be The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas. In particular, I have a fondness for a character who did not make the cut in my favorite film adaptation: Caderousse. Spoilers for that novel follow, and I do recommend reading it. It’s a bit long though.

For context, Caderousse appears at intervals in the novel, always on the wrong side of things. First, he drunkenly overhears a plot to condemn his friend, and is blackmailed into staying quiet. When he next reappears, he is the owner of an inn, with a wife who can best be described as sick in several senses. Here, greed and his wife control him, spurring him into murder over a small fortune. He reappears later, now a conniving thief, who finally dies at the hands of a villain he enabled.

Caderousse’s story is one of a man too weak to do what he knows is right, becoming wicked as he submits to bad influences. Throughout his first two major roles, he displays a significant sense of morality and loyalty, which are opposed by the company he keeps. His life takes a twisted path, and ends in a slow, terrified death, sweetened only by the presence of the man he failed to save.

I really love his presence in the story. He adds a layer of depth that cannot be denied. He is not outright a villain, but continuously acts out evil because he cannot find the strength to resist.

He is wretched. He suffers and becomes warped by his suffering. I frequently consider his contribution, wondering at the way a person can act against their own will.

I do not have much commentary on today’s addition to Incarnate, except to remark on how short it is. I considered tacking it onto the previous chapter, but felt that it would’ve been worse for it.