stoking the creative fire

Trying to write consistently is be a challenge. For some reason, I decided long ago that long-form fiction writing would be my passion, with a side of poetry. Unfortunately, my personality is not inclined toward the precision and forethought that could really support such a venture. I dislike sitting down and thinking through what I want to say, creating an outline, and then adhering to it, though at times I've found it really helpful.

Instead I've been attached to a sort of ecstatic, mystic idea of writing; opening my skull and letting the Genius write through me. What excites me most is stumbling through the process of taking inspiration and following its uncertain thread until I reach the denouement and realize, wow, that's where it was going all along! The writing path is full of surprise and intrigue and sloppiness, and several revisions are necessary to bring the whole work in line with what I was stumbling toward. That's the idea, anyway.

Unfortunately, the thread of inspiration is geared toward shorter bursts. Short fiction, short poems, or the occasional snippet in a longer work. Which isn't to say that it's not present in the more involved work, but there are far more days when it feels like sitting down to blankness and fighting against the complete emptiness of inspiration to generate some content. I suspect this would be the case even with an outline.

This summer, I read Philip K. Dick's brilliant alternate-history novel The Man in the High Castle. In his process of writing the novel, he consulted the I Ching regularly, using divination to direct the action of the work. This seemed like a wonderful tool for connecting to the creative unconscious, and sustaining that connection for a longer work.

My writing practice already includes some of this work. At times when I feel stalled, I'll do a dream incubation. At night, while falling asleep, I'll tell myself that I want to have a dream that will provide inspiration for where the novel will go next. The dreams are rarely "about" the novel in an explicit way; however, images and occurrences in the dream become intriguing irritants in my conscious mind that inspire further work. While writing Dreams Among the Ruins, I incubated a dream that featured a cadre of clones of the X-Man Cable dressed in womens' clothing, as part of an incognito mission. The dream led to two creative inspirations: one was a plot point that occurs in the novel. Later, in between drafts and looking for a creative palate-cleanser, I was inspired to write a screenplay draft for a Cable movie.

For this process, I've turned to one of my other loves, the Tarot. When I feel stuck as to what to write next, I'll shuffle and then deal three cards. One is the Court Card, signifying what character will be the focus of the next piece. I've begun developing correspondences of which court card signifies which character. The second is a Minor Arcana, signifying the action of the next scene. The third is a Major Arcana, signifying the greater arc or spiritual theme with which the character is grappling.

When I divide the cards in this way, I feel like the deck becomes immensely practical and clear. Oftentimes I may ask a practical question and get a card that I find wholly confounding, because I don't have a clear intention to frame its interpretation. I accept this lack of precision in my personal meditations because I feel it opens me up to some broader and more nuanced comprehension of both my life and the cards, but it can be maddening when trying to work on a practical question.

Unfortunately, work on this novel has and will continue to be slow, given my current status as a graduate student. All the more helpful it's been to have a process like this.