Imagination

In terms of my writing projects, like fiction, I love writing from my imagination the most. It may a purely imaginative work without anything observational (apart from the basic structure perhaps), experiential, or from one’s home truths. It’s purely from the mind. Maybe I would look to see how I could include my home truths as well, if it fits.

“Decurion”

While I took a break from a rather tedious writing project that has a deadline none too soon, I read a few pages of the epic poem Inferno and saw the word, “Decurion”. I couldn’t find a definition for it, except on google. It’s an interesting word, but the definition is rather dull. However, a educational excursion.

Inferno

Inferno (1)

I’ve been reading the first part of Dante’s Comedy, the Inferno, which was written in the medieval time. I’m getting into the part when the comedy kicks in, about half way through. According to the commentary in this translation, a Penguin classic, the half-way point is when the comedy kicks in.

I have noticed it gets funnier as it goes on, as I paid close attention. The comedy is caustic, biting, perhaps what we would call today as sarky. It’s bold humor and today stands ahead of the pack. But like all good comedy it has a point.

I look forward to how Dante progresses on his journey through hell, and into purgatory and heaven, and how the theme ‘adjusts’ in the next stage of his journey.

At the moment, Inferno is one of my favorite things.

The testimonial project that almost made it

Despite the rejections (aw shucks) of the fiction and poetry, I must love blogging and have a hunger for projects of writing.

A project I have gone headlong into means I am approaching the appropriate personnel–to see if they know of any stories about their people.

These stories are what’s called “testimonies”. In other words, what’s happening with you, and why.

One wanted the minutest detail about me first, probably to see who I really am, and if I am who I say I am.

Unfortunately, none of my “personnel” got back to me with offers of people willing to tell me their story–which I would have submitted to editors who are actually interested in seeing my work.

Considering, there are editors who turn the page of my work with a disdainful eye (I jest; it’s not disdainful, it’s probably indifferent or courteously sorry they couldn’t publish it), the  editors who are interested, don’t get to see it. The irony is painful, but bearable.