My life has been a series of revelations lately. I became homeless and had to get a job. This has made going to school and continuing to write very difficult. I found that I could do one or the other. Which came as a shock because I had this wonderful dream. I was going to be able to join society and have a job like everyone else. I would also be able to attend college and complete my courses before they were due. There would even be time to jot down my thoughts and ideas. Maybe even get a few words in on the project I’m working with a friend. None of this happened though.
The one thing that I didn’t count on was the time drain from working my job. For the last month all it seemed that I was doing was working and sleeping. I didn’t have time for anything else, not school, not writing, not even my friends. I was working overtime trying to afford a place to live and lost my most important dream. The thing I dream of being the most is a writer. I want to be acknowledged for my words. However, I need the job to be able to have a roof over my head. School has ended for me and my writing has been non existant. This doesn’t seem to be a fair compromise.
Now I’m caught between my dreams and my reality. I need the job to keep a roof over my head and food in my belly. I need my writing to find their way on paper. I really want my writing to be in print and found on Library shelves all over the country. I don’t care if I’m famous if I can find myself in the Library. I really want to follow my dreams but I have to face my reality. There has got to be a compromise somewhere. A place where I can live and write.
She haunts my waking dreams
Her strawberry scent is everywhere
I see the bright red of her hair
Against the dark of my eye lids.
I wish to hold her tight
Chasing the demons away
I was hanging out with a friend ,Kit, and he was talking about this movie coming out about the Dark Tower series. I remember growing up that my Dad talked about it a lot and that he liked the characterization in the stories. I made disparaging comments thinking that something from the 80’s couldn’t be so great. Kit made a valid point stating that if the book was horrible why would they make a movie out of it. I shot back stating that Twilight was an example of a terrible book made into a terrible movie. Not wanting to back down he hands me Gunslinger and I read the letter Stephen King wrote back in 2003. As I am reading this I see so much of how I see writing and even how I write myself. I had to swallow a major dose of pride and finally admit the truth after 20 some odd years.
So what Kit unintentionally stumbled on (and I am not sure he knows it) is that Stephen King is my hero. I have never read a word past the first chapter of the stand and maybe Misery but I have always idolized Stephen King. He became my hero after he had his accident. Sure he was a drunken asshole at the time, sometimes he still is, and he fell hard. He couldn’t use his hands right, he couldn’t walk, one article claimed that the accident left him blind. But still he continued to write. When he couldn’t write the words down he would dictate them but still he was writing. It astounded me that this man who horrifies and disgusts me has so much will to continue letting the words out. At the time I hated him for it because I couldn’t muster the will to expand past story ideas in order to please my father. My father ironically enough also idolized Stephen King, only his was pure fandom idolization for the words he wrote not the effort he took to write them or the pain that they may have caused him. I hated him because he was fulfilling my dream and my father loved him for it while he told me I could never make it as a writer not matter how good the story ideas. And I idolized him because of what he was willing to endure to get the words out on paper. I wanted a will like that of my own. I’ve even got my own modern typewriter in the form of a laptop. I carry my words around with me every where just like he did when he first started out. So now I am starting out on a journey to learn about my idol Stephen King and I’m not starting with The Stand as so many people keep suggesting. I am going to start with the Dark Tower series starting with The Gunslinger.
Tomorrow is a new start for me. A journey into frantic typing a deadlines. Tomorrow is a land I always dreamed of but never was a part of. Tomorrow I start my journey into the world of NaNoWriMo.
Dreams are weird in their construction. You can dream of past moments, or you can dream of what you wish, there are even dreams that give you a solution to a problem. Dreams aren’t normally stories far from your reality.
The ballroom glitters with all of the guests spinning on the dance floor. Thor’s Queen sits upon the dais overseeing the dancers. This is the largest Gathering since the birth of Thor. I’m just lucky to even be here. Witches like me aren’t normally invited but I was able to get in as Thor’s servant. The Council told me to keep an eye on things to make sure nothing went wrong the The Crowning of the Queen. It’s not often a mortal becomes a Queen.
Everything had gone so smooth it’s boring watching all the Norse Gods enjoying themselves. Thor himself has checked in with me twice already before disappearing back into the crowds. He is the only God I know who can still look intimidating with a boyish grin on his face. The one I am supposed to look out for hasn’t even shown up yet. It all goes wrong moments after a servant talks to the Queen. She rushes out of the ballroom so I follow her.
For some reason the servant has led the Queen to a bathroom. One that is carved straight from the mountaine Asgaurd sits on. It takes me seconds to see the Gate opening. The Queen saw it mere moments later and does the most ridiculous thing ever. The stupid fluff tries to close it. No human can close a Gate, not by herself anyway.
“Fuck, Your Majesty!” I shout running to step between her and the Gate. I place one hand on the Gate itself and one extended out towards the Queen. I am then pulled into the consciousness of the Gate.
“Who dares to Close Me?” Thunders around me causing my bones to crack.
“I do!” I shout back fighting to stay alert.
“You? You have no Master. You Can’t Close Me!”
“Yes I can! Loki is my Master!”
The consciousness recedes and the Gate closes. Thor is cradling his Queen a look of concern and anger on his face. I wave half heartedly before collapsing onto the floor. Black boots step next to me and I look up into the angry eyes of Loki. “You stupid girl,” he sneers. Fuck I’m in trouble.