This story I’m writing. Good question, that. I’d be lying if I were to say I have no idea. But the full weight and depth still elude me. But rest assured I am chasing it down! I’ve been working on it for a couple months now.
It surprised me. The crux had been a loose end in my mind. I didn’t want it to die of loneliness. So I wrote it. Now I know the story and characters have more life to live. That their mythology was not a snapshot but a landscape to a pilgrimage I have to explore.
I went first to my own library. What remains from decades, distilled by relocation, voluntary simplicity, and our digital evolution. The book I’ve owned longest, since pre-adolescence, is Readers Digest’s American Folklore & Legend. I pulled it from the milk crates and realized how deeply folk tales have always resonated with me. My childhood favorites were Nathaniel Hawthorne’s A Wonder Book and Tanglewood Tales. The copies I now have are from my grandparents’ library.
I continued gathering what’s relevant. Naturalism. Authenticity. Mysticism. This short stack is very eclectic, and the landscape is forming.
Am I going so deep? So far into our ancestral past? The subtext of all this is facing fear, digging into hatred. And those veins run deep. The substrate of humankind’s brief brush against this earth’s surface. Maybe the rabbit hole leads so deep.
So where am I going with this? I don’t have an answer for you yet. But I’m researching the answer now. I’ll get back to you soon with an answer. 😛