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When God blots no tears

Posted on 2009.02.24 at 15:35
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,
I've been locked in self-isolation for months now, wrestling with the twin horns of family tragedy and the slash-and-burn rewrite of Crucifer.   The greatest challenge has been fortifying a psychic wall in my head, so I can work through the former while making progress on the latter.  Most of the time, I feel like that proverbial kid in Holland, who sticks his finger in a hole in a dike to keep back the flood.   But the water leaks around my finger, splashes on my boots, and soaks into the soil of my writing.  I find the scenes which were already becoming more emotional, now are lit with a blue filter of sorrow.   And the city, which more than ever is a major character, has grown more immense, more ominous, a colder God who hears the cries of his children, but won't blot the tears from their eyes.  And the power of trancendent love, the desperate search for meaning, has grown, well, more desperate.

One thing my agent told me she loved when she read the last draft of Crucifer, was the Gothic, Noir atmosphere of the novel.  I had worked hard to build up the shadows and capture the Noir atmosphere, but the city still didn't feel alive.   She knew I've been invovled in the Goth subculture for years, and suggested I expand the Gothic imagery.   I had always intended the the third act to be a radical transition, from future noir to a Gigeresque, Gothic nightmare, but the first two acts were only half-fleshed by comparison.  My agent had the solution,  the old, "write what you know," so I'm pouring my Gothic soul into the book.  Now, there are even a couple scenes set in a futuristic Goth club, built inside a retrofitted church, where genetically modified children of the night dance in the shadow of a crucifix, the marble cross backlit by a green laser nimbus.   I've unleashed my love for the baroque and grotesque, and one word keeps coming back to me--sublime.  I want my would-be readers to touch the sublime, that feeling of awe, wonder and dread, and if they feel it once or twice while reading the book, then my efforts won't be for nothing.  Have you ever knelt in a Gothic cathedral, looked up at the vaulted ceiling soaring overhead, or stood at the edge of a giant cliff, gazing at the waves crashing below?  This is the feeling I am striving to capture.   And love, to feel the transcendent power of love, so real that when it's lost, it rips apart the fabric of your being.

For your amusement, here are a few pictures of me taken at Goth clubs.  "Write what you know?"  More like, "write what you live."  The first was taken on January 31st of this year, at  a Cybergoth event held at Club Sabbat in San Diego.  The second was taken a few years back, outside Bar Sinister in Los Angeles, with my friend, Damon Drew.

Rob at Club Sabbat

Rob and Damon Drew


emperorofdreams at 2009-02-25 03:50 (UTC) (Link)
My dear friend,

It has been my experience that sometimes in the face of sorrow and adversity is when your muse will come shining though. Know that you are not alone in your exile and should you cast a clarion call there are those who would hear it and rally to your side.

With love,
coppervale at 2009-02-25 08:57 (UTC) (Link)
Great photos, man.

Keep at the writing. You're on the right track, and you goal is in sight.
rjcrowtherjr at 2009-02-27 10:37 (UTC) (Link)
Thank you for always being there to encourage me. Where there be dragons, there be true friends. How goes the next tale of the Encyclopedia G.?
coppervale at 2009-02-27 21:17 (UTC) (Link)
Turned in Book Four's final edits; am in the process of writing Book Five. Did you see the cover for 4? It's down lower on my journal - yellow and black.
(Deleted comment)
rjcrowtherjr at 2009-02-27 10:41 (UTC) (Link)
My lovely woman, I think Mr. S. would spit up hit Scotch if he saw this. I don't want people thinking I'm some sort of freak... ;-)
coppervale at 2009-02-27 21:18 (UTC) (Link)
We should save it for Rob's children's book.
(Anonymous) at 2009-08-20 12:20 (UTC) (Link)

Damon Drew

Rob and Damon Drew, I remember watching you dance at Sabbat, like a scene from a vampire dream. Beautiful.
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