Post #200: Story a Day Wrap-Up

(Not sure what to say about post #200, except to note it? As some kind of accomplishment? Or something?)

Okay, so...Story a Day in May. A little week three brush with something viral slowed my progress a bit - as did the fact that I was exhausted. Nonetheless, I am super happy with the raw stats:

Raw word count for the month: 50,083. I drafted 19 stories in all. Four of them took me two days or more to write. Two I drafted more than once, since I wasn't happy with the way they came out the first time I tried to write them. Five I am almost certain I can turn into something great. Two or three might be great if I can figure out how to fix major issues with them. One might be the seed of a novella or a novel - maybe my 2011 NaNoWrimo project?

In the next few weeks, I'll be working on getting some of those stories in fighting shape, as well as drafting some new stuff.

Speaking of new stuff...I take it as a good sign that for the first time in a while there is a little cluster of truly great looking anthologies out there, some of which are paying very decent up front cashola for stories. Here's what I've come up with:

Machine of Death: Deadline July 15 2011; pays $200 per story.
From the website submission guidelines:

Machine of Death is an anthology of short stories with a shared premise.... All stories in the book start with the idea of a machine that can use a blood test to tell you how you’re going to die — sometimes vaguely, but always accurately.

For more info or to purchase a copy of the book or download your free pdf copy of the first volume, check out the website.

The Mothman Files: Deadline July 1 2011; pays 5¢ per word.
You might remember Mothman from the muddled film starring Richard Gere that came out a bunch of years ago, but John Keel's 1975 book The Mothman Prophecies is a well-researched classic in the paranormal field, and ongoing Mothman or Mothman-like sightings continue to this day. Editor Michael Knost invites submissions of fictional works on the Mothman theme.

The Memory Eater: Deadline July 15 2011; pays an equal share in profits on POD and e-book sales.
Editor Casper Pearl calls for stories involving the "Memory Eater—an orb-like device that fits neatly around your head like a diver’s helmet with the ability to locate and destroy any memory in the human mind."

ETA: 
After reading Deborah Walker's post on the Merry Month of May, I was reminded of this call for stories:

Enchanted Conversation's Cinderella Issue: Submission Period June 27-30; pays 10¢ per  word
This excellent online magazine publishes fiction based on beloved fairy tales. Read their Rumpelstiltskin issue for free to see what they're up to.

I don't know about you, but with such juicy and fun premises, I feel inspired to write.

What are you working on this June?

Story a Day: A Midway Progress Report, or Two Camels in a Tiny Car

First of all, allow me to apologize for falling off the internet. I have (ahem!) been writing.

Story a Day continues. As I'm headed into the second half of this challenge, I am ecstatic to report that I've written somewhere in the vicinity of 33 000 words since the beginning of May, and I've completed 12 stories, seven of which I consider to be viable. Of those stories, two took me more than a day to complete. Two others were "do-overs" - in other words, I had an idea, wrote it in a day, and decided it was not what I wanted it to be, so I tried again the next day.

Here's what I've learned about the art of writing short story first drafts, or at least about my art of writing short story first drafts:

It's possible to compress the process. 24 hours is a reasonable amount of time to go from vague idea / prompt to concrete idea to plot to completed first draft.

Compressing the process is fun. How satisfying is it to think about a story and work through a basic plot, only to be done with drafting it by the time you go to bed (even if bedtime gets pushed back just a wee bit)? Very satisfying.

I tend to procrastinate in the name of "working on a plot" or "ironing out potential problems" with a story. In truth, I am just putting off actively thinking about it or doing the writing, while hoping that some magical muse will drop the answer on my head. I am forming a much better idea of the intensity I need in order to make a story happen. It's much more intensity and active troubleshooting / what-iffing / cause and effect logic-grinding than I'd previously thought.

I have been lazy, or maybe helpless, or maybe clueless. I am less so now.

I can do much, much more than I thought possible.

If I don't like the way a first draft worked out, I can always rewrite it. The best time to do that is the very next day, when the potential problems and solutions are fresh in my mind.

Writing is performance. Like all performances, it can go horribly wrong, or descend into slapstick. On the other hand, some days are better than others. Any draft can be much more brilliant than I thought. Any idea can suddenly blossom into something very cool. Any plot can become magic - but it has to play out on the page.

I'm looking forward to the second half of this challenge.

Meanwhile, if you came here for the camels, here they are. Headphones up!

Already a Cheater: The First Four Days of Story a Day

Soo......Story a Day!  This is a post to update y'all on my progress and to talk about what it's like to push yourself way beyond your usual capacities.

As a writer I face a couple of challenges. One: I have chronic ants-in-pants. I find it physically difficult to sit with my arse in a chair for more than a few minutes. I combat this by working out a lot, to the point of exhaustion. Two: I am a relentless multitasker. Although I can focus on a task for long periods of time, I find I am super distracted by the many different things we as writers should do: draft! edit! polish! submit! blog! correspond! research! read read read!.

As a result of these two factors, it often takes me a couple of weeks to finish a short story draft.

So Story a Day, with its brutal, high-intensity schedule, is great for me, because there is no time to get distracted, and I have to keep my arse in my writing chair in order to do it. I'm finding that it is deeply satisfying to get a short story draft out in a single day.

I haven't started my challenge story today, the 5th of May. So far in four days of writing I've drafted three short stories with a total of 11 772 words. Yoicks! That's huge for me.

Day one was good: I dutifully wrote a not great story about a Greek tragic actor. I ran into a spot of trouble on day two when I came up with a great story idea that I knew was going to run long. I made some sacrifices to Chronos (by cancelling some plans) and kept writing. At 11:30, I still wasn't done the story, but I had hit a reasonable stopping point. Normally, I would let a larger story drag out. Because I was aware that I was already stretching the Story a Day guidelines, I finished it the next day: BOOM! I'm super happy about that one. At 7600 words, it's a little long, but trimming will happen later. Yesterday I wrote a silly story about catharsis. And here we are. Today I'm planning to go back to an older idea I've tried to write before, but it's never quite worked out. I will try to make it work today.

The nice thing about this challenge is that if the writing goes well, then great; if it seems like the story sucks, you can let it go at the end of the day and move on. I feel like I'm getting an education in what works and what doesn't.

I am learning too that unless I have an idea that seems like it should be flash, I am much more a short story writer than a flash writer. This is a little frustrating because I would like to write a piece in an hour or two, rather than spending all day on it. I'm all:

But I am in this to push myself, so getting out ridiculous amounts of word count this month is not a bad thing, not at all.

If you're doing Story a Day, how is it going? If you're not, what are you writing today?

Easy A to Z

If you've been dropping in from time to time, you already know this, but:

I thoroughly enjoyed this challenge. I used A to Z to focus on topical posts that range far outside of my usual discussions of the entertainment industry, the horror genre, and writing. It was nice to remember that I know lots of stuff about...stuff! (And also that I am an articulate person.)

So I want to issue an official thank you to Arlee Bird and co-hosts Jeffrey Beesler, Alex J. Cavanaugh, Jen Daiker, Candace Ganger, Karen J. Gowen, Talli Roland, and Stephen Tremp. Well done!

Extra credit goes to Marcus at Writing Investigated for creating the Next Blog / Surprise Me! buttons that have made going through the massive list of A to Z participants so much fun. Thanks, Marcus.

For the hosts of A to Z and all of you who participated in the challenge, I offer a stern round of Kane applause:

In case you are only catching up with me now via the mega-post, AND you have tons of creative juice because A to Z energized you as much as it did me, or even (especially) if you are dragging your arse now but you want to keep writing anyway, I want to issue a very special invitation to join me in tackling the Story a Day in May challenge. I am using my A to Z posts as story prompts. Please feel free to plunder my April posts for inspiration.

For today's story, I'm using my post on Bubonic Plague. Care to play along? (Never mind the swelling.)

The Joys of Raw Word Count

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During the first four months of 2011, I have focused my writing efforts on editing, polishing, and submitting pieces in my existing stable of short stories, in the name of getting my name out there a whole heck of a lot more. I have come to the conclusion that pro markets are super, super hard to break into, and editing is even harder.

I've learned a lot about taking my stories from first draft to something resembling acceptability. I've learned that I often forgo logic in place of aesthetics, and that this means my early drafts are messy and hard to fix. I've learned that you can't polish a turd: if there is something seriously wrong with the first draft, it will not become a shiny story just because you correct grammar and trim excess and add a few neat tricks. You have to make a story true. Just because it's fantasy doesn't mean that you can skimp on compromise or conflict. Just because it's horror doesn't mean you automatically earn the right to make everything relentlessly terrible.

All this editing has slowed down my raw word count output substantially. By raw word count, I mean first draft, fountain pen on lined paper, pantsing like it's 1999, and otherwise just enjoying the act of trying to get story down on paper. I've drafted a few shorts in the name of Write 1, Sub 1, but for the most part, I've been trying to get stories out of the virtual trunk of my hard drive and into the world.

It is time to do something a little bit different, since this slog is getting a bit stale. I woke up yesterday excited about the prospect of Story a Day in May, because I'm really looking forward to the chance to just practice laying out beginnings, middles, and ends for a while. I plan to get out some substantial raw word count this month - maybe even reaching NaNoWriMo proportions.

For today's story, I used my "Agonize" post as a story prompt. The piece I wrote features a disgruntled actor in ancient Greece who wants to be more than part of the chorus.  The working title is "Goat Song." It came in at 2032 words, and took me about two and a half hours to draft, in between conversations with my writing pal Chris Kelworth at a local cafe. Good times!

Zombie

Isn't it time we went back to the origins of this extraordinarily well-worn trope? Hipster Psychonaut Hamilton Morris's documentary, Nzambi, explores those origins.



As a postscript, I have to say I've enjoyed these A to Z days, and loved meeting so many new bloggers and writers and writer-bloggers. I am moving on (tomorrow!!) to the Story a Day in May challenge. I hope you'll join me.

Yin

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I've mentioned before that I've spent a lot of time training with a tai chi master who is also a doctor of traditional Chinese medicine. Yin and Yang are the two primal forces that make up the phenomenological world (the world as we experience it). Mostly the western understanding of these two forces is pretty superficial. You've probably heard about yin and yang as feminine and masculine; earth and sun or heaven; dark and light; cold and hot. They flow into each other and become each other, too. In eastern systems, they aren't "yin and yang" - they are "yin yang," two sides of the same coin, but interpenetrating.

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Yin energy is earth energy: soft and cool and subtle. Yang energy is sun energy - hot and fast and hard-hitting. According to my teacher, men carry yang energy on the outside, and yin energy on the inside: think marshmallow in a steel drum. Women carry yin energy on the outside, and yang on the inside: think steel rod inside a pillow.

When we sleep, we use yin energy to cleanse our bodies.

When you meditate, you can draw on yin or yang energies, depending on how you do it. To grossly simplify things, if you meditate with eyes open in a room with a light source, you will draw yang energy. Eyes closed meditations are yin.

Deng Ming-Dao's book Chronicles of Tao offers a narrative account of his master Kwan Saihung's experiences training in the Huashan mountains of China. When Kwan Saihung is still a boy, his teacher takes him to visit an immortal, a Taoist practitioner who has achieved mastery in the practice of his choice. As a sometime fan of vampire fiction, I found this account fascinating. I hope you do too. (From Chronicles of Tao, pages 70-71.)

Master and disciple walked for over an hour until they came to a tiny stucco cottage. It was plain, with only a few square windows and an old tile roof. It was summer, and every building on Huashan had its windows propped open to admit the warm sunlight. The windows of this one, however, were tightly shut. The door was slightly ajar and, after knocking, the two stepped inside.

The small interior was dark and quiet, and a flow of cool air blew on them as they entered. Still blind from the bright sun, Saihung's vision adjusted slowly. Set among a few modest furnishings, was a large coffin.

Saihung saw his master drop down to his hands and knees, and Saihung automatically followed. He was puzzled. He had only seen his master bow during ceremonies. But there was no altar here, and his master couldn't be bowing to the coffin. Saihung completed his bow and looked up. There was a tall figure standing before them.

The figure remained standing and acknowledged their bow with a slight nod. 

"Hey, you!" cried Saihung, "Why don't you bow too? Don't you know how important my master is?"

"Saihung!" said the Grand Master sharply. "Don't be rude. He is the master here, not I." He turned to the man. "Greetings to the Bat Immortal." 

The Bat Immortal smiled slightly. He was tall, thin, and moved in an almost feminine fashion. His face was small, his beard and hair braided with ribbons, his skin unwrinkled, pale, and bloodless. Narrow eyes were sunken, the skin around them blackened, and they were almost closed all the time. But from the narrow slits of his eyes there seemed to shine an inner light, a hidden glow. 

"I've come to ask a point about the scriptures," said the Grand Master.

The Bat Immortal acknowledged the request by stepping forward. He avoided the sunlight coming through the door, and his steps were soundless. He stopped in front of Saihung. His eyelids lifted slightly; the glow from his eyes intensified.

"Is this the boy you mentioned?" he asked in a thin and hollow voice.

"Yes," replied the Grand Master. 

The Bat Immortal turned back to Saihung. Saihung looked up, and he had the uncanny feeling that the Bat Immortal gazed directly through his eyelids. Saihung's attention lapsed, and when he again became aware, the Bat Immortal had turned away.

The Grand Master sent Saihung outside to wait. 

When he emerged an hour later, the Grand Master walked directly away. Saihung followed him. After a half hour of silence, the Grand Master told him about the Bat Immortal.

"The Bat Immortal practices extreme yin training. That's why he has taken the name he has and sleeps in a coffin, avoids sunlight, stays only in cold places, and never eats anything hot. He cultivates the Great Yin, and this is the source of his spirituality." 

"He seems like a wicked man, with those dark circles and ghostly movements," said Saihung. 

"Don't think he is evil," cautioned his master. "He frightens you because he is an unfamiliar person. Naturally. He is immortal, and immortals are rarely glimpsed."

"But, Gong-Gong, I don't understand why you bow to him. Everyone always bows to you." 

"Saihung, there are always greater and greater masters, and we must always show our respect."

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Xanthippe

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Xanthippe was the wife of the philosopher Socrates. Think about that for a second: you're a hot young thing, married to the ugliest and smartest man in Athens. He's running around town, being wined and dined by all the hip younger dudes, and he's screwing them, to boot. You're stuck at home with three kids and nothing to feed them.

You want your husband to smarten up when it comes to keeping you happy.

Xanthippe was a scrapper.

Head, meet shit.
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The iconic image of Xanthippe is this one, of her emptying a chamber pot on Socrates's head.

Socrates claimed he married Xanthippe because she wouldn't back down when it came to arguing. Away from home, he boasted that he was only trying to challenge himself by choosing to marry her. In the Symposium dialogue, he claimed:

It is the example of the rider who wishes to become an expert horseman: "None of your soft-mouthed, docile animals for me," he says; "the horse for me to own must show some spirit" in the belief, no doubt, if he can manage such an animal, it will be easy enough to deal with every other horse besides. And that is just my case. I wish to deal with human beings, to associate with man in general; hence my choice of wife. I know full well, if I can tolerate her spirit, I can with ease attach myself to every human being else. (Symposium 17-19 [= 2.10])

In my view, any man who compares his wife to a horse and himself to a rider deserves to have a chamber pot emptied on his head. (No matter that her name meant "yellow horse" - some plays on words are not clever.) So hard did Xanthippe fight for herself, she became the iconic figure of the fractious woman throughout the Renaissance. To this day "a xanthippe" is a shrewish, argumentative woman.

I Challenge You!

Got my dueling boots on and everything.

Woot! Story a Day in May is swiftly approaching.  I officially challenge y'all to join me and a band of piratical fantastical writers in attempting to climb Mount Crazy.  Some of you are on the fence about this. It is going to be great.

What's the worst that could happen? You flunk out horribly and end up with a mere five or six new short stories under your belt by the end of May? That's five or six stories you don't have right now.

Those stories need to be written, and you are just the ones to do it. Rules over here. Sign up. Do it. Do it now.

Wasps

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Putting this post together made me itchy.

I've been thinking about wasps lately. It's just about time for them to make their annual assault on my backyard. The dog has been stung several times on his face. I'm not into spraying or killing bugs at all, and I could not figure out what they were attracted to in the yard. (We've got a lot of flowers, no fruit trees, but the flowers could do it.)  I found a good solution to this problem in a fake paper wasps nest that I hang outside, on my porch, in the spring time. Apparently wasps are intensely territorial, so having something that looks like a nest in your yard will keep them away.

The more I learn and understand about social, colony-dwelling insects, the more I think they are great models for alien societies in speculative fiction. Their behaviour is single-minded yet complex. Their capacity for interacting with their environment and with other species is positively mind-blowing.

(The second video is super, super gross, by the way.)





ETA: More details on the virus that the wasp injects along with its larvae in this New Scientist article. It seems the wasps are hijacking two separate live forms - the caterpillar and the virus - in order to pull off this parasitic stunt that is so vital to their reproductive cycle. Amazing.

Vice

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When I was studying early drama, my favourite character was always the Vice. In medieval allegorical drama, Vices are spin-offs of the Seven Deadly Sins. They have names like Mischief, Covetousness, Nought, Nowadays, and New Guise. They are nasty, troublesome characters who want nothing more than to cause the downfall of the protagonist by leading him into temptation.

The thing about Vices is that they have boundless energy, and are virtually immortal. Even if they are beaten, they always bounce back in the end. They are the original supervillains. Onstage, they are often in cahoots with the audience, getting their participation in the corruption of the main character. Essentially, they are clown figures, always goofing off and telling dirty jokes, even as they work on behalf of the forces of chaos and evil.

They are so very wrong, so very bad, and so very fun to watch.

Physically, Vices are often exaggerated in their forms, as these images from the National Library of the Netherlands Medieval Illuminated Manuscripts show:

Hypocrisy and Gluttony confront a wandering monk. Note Gluttony's enormous mouth and maybe barf? maybe food? protruding from it. 

Pride borne by Flattery. Pride is depicted tooting her own horn. 

Treachery and Calumny (aka Slander) riding upon Envy's back. The arrows protruding from Envy's eyes show that she is always ready to stab those of whom she is jealous. 

If you're at all inclined to think allegorically, these are amazing images, I think. Note that almost all these figures are women, with the (possible?) exception of Hypocrisy. As I'm sure you know, the Virtues (Faith, Hope, Charity, Prudence, Justice, Temperance, and Courage) were traditionally personified as women. After all, Faith, Hope, Charity, and to some degree, Prudence are female names. (I did know someone who named her son Justice, but that's beside the point.)  Later on, the Vices / Seven Deadly Sins were commonly depicted as men, but originally, in the very early days of the Church, they were also women. The Virtues and Vices, two opposing forces, fought for sovereignty over the human soul (also traditionally depicted as female, regardless of the gender of the soul's owner).

I have wondered if it wasn't the rise of drama that killed the depiction of the Vices as women. As the stage developed into a commercial enterprise, it became illegal in many parts of Europe for women to act in dramas. (They were still allowed comic roles on some parts of the continent, but not in Britain, at least not until the late 17th century.)

Just as Vices almost never died onstage or in allegorical works of fiction, they never quite leave us. They are still there in films (see the early part of Jim Carrey's career, Jack Black, and other over the top comedians). For those of you who spend a lot of time online, the Vice surfaces again and again in the form of the internet troll.

While your mileage may vary in terms of encounters with actual internet trolls, the iconic version of this figure can be pretty darned amusing.




If you run into serious trouble, though, there is an antidote. (The makers don't allow embedding - click through if you've got a couple of minutes and you want to be amused.)

Underworld

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As long as there have been people who could look up at the sky and wonder, there has been a concept of an underworld, a heavenly alter-ego, a dark shadow space where the bad things, the repudiated things, or maybe just the dark and squiggly things live.

I'm not talking about the Romeo-and-Juliet-cum-werewolf-and-vampire movie series, much as I love Kate Beckinsale and love her even more in PVC.

You're welcome.

This dark realm, underneath the earth's surface, "below," is a realm of danger, and represents the constant threat that we might be captured by it and dragged to our doom.

Hades, god of the Underworld, stealing away Persephone
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It's easy enough to relate the concept of an underworld to the Christian hell, but there are other underworlds to explore for those of us interested in the unusual, which tell a different narrative about the world below.

In 1945, Richard Sharpe Shaver wrote a letter to the editor of Amazing Stories detailing what he claimed was a real encounter with the Teros, underground-dwelling supermen who educated him on a longstanding battle with the Deros, a degraded version of the Teros who had returned to a brutish mode of being. These cave dwellers delighted in tormenting humanity with the machines left behind by the ancients, and occasionally indulged in a little kidnapping, rape and cannibalism. Shaver acheived a sort of pulp fiction stardom with his stories, which appeared in 75% of Amazing Stories issues from 1945 to 1948. Eager readers wrote to the magazine to report that they'd had experiences with the Tero and the Dero. Shaver's stories continue to raise questions about his sources and convictions.

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Proponents of the Hollow Earth hyphothesis have long sought to revise our understanding of the basic construction of our planet. Among the strongest advocates for the hollow earth hypothesis was Admiral Richard Evelyn Byrd, who claimed that he had accessed a lush new land during his investigation of the North Pole (source):

In his diary, Byrd allegedly tells of entering the hollow interior of the earth, along with others and traveling 17 miles over mountains, lakes, rivers, green vegetation, and animal life. He tells of seeing tremendous animals resembling the mammoths of antiquity moving through the brush. He eventually found cities and a thriving civilization. The external temperature was 74 degrees F.

His airplane was greeted by flying machines of a type he had never seen before. They escorted him to a safe landing area where he was graciously greeted by emissaries from Agartha. After resting, he and his crew, were taken to meet the king and queen of Agartha. They told him that he had been allowed to enter Agartha because of his high moral and ethical character. They went on to say that they worried about the safety of planet due to he bombs and other testing done above the surface by governments. After the visit Byrd and his crew were guided back to the surface of the planet.

Byrd stated that the North and South Poles are only two of many openings into the center of the Earth. He also wrote about seeing a sun below the Earth.

Map of Agartha

For men like Shaver and Byrd, the hollow earth is a place of mystery, wonder, and secrets, keys to long lost civilizations, and the storage house of the real history of how we came to be here on planet Earth. To me, it's a testimony to the power of the human imagination, always willing and able to revise and remake our collective mythos.

An Offer You Can't Refuse

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...well, you probably can. But you might want to accept anyway.

You might have noticed a certain shift in tone to my posts during the A to Z Blogging Challenge this month. Suddenly, I am writing about strange facts and concepts! (As opposed to my usual posts on the horror genre, weird dreams I had, and stuff I'm writing.)

There is indeed a method to my madness. I've mentioned this before, but in case you're new here, I wanted to put in a little plug for a challenge I'm about to undertake, and to explain where I've been coming from this month.

You see, a while ago, the delightfully insane Julie Duffy stalked me and persuaded me via Twitter that Story a Day in May was the challenge for me, mostly because I said it scared the crap out of me. Write a story every single day in May? Are you nuts? It takes me a week or two just to crank out a draft of one story! I am failing miserably at Write 1, Sub 1. (Okay, not miserably. I am failing gently. And I have written several new short stories and sent them out this year. So...that's good.)

I had decided, sometime in March, that I would probably end up trying Story A Day in May and flunking on day one. Never one to give up ahead of time, I kept worrying about it. All this angst got me brainstorming about how I would attempt to climb this insurmountable peak if I did decide to follow through with it. I had already signed up for A to Z...and that's when I got a wonderful, terrible idea.

If I made each of my A to Z posts nice and juicy and idea-full, then I could use them as story prompts. Research? Already done. Evocative images? Already found. Idea factory? Switched on.

So this is my plan. By the end of April, I'll have 26 writing prompts in place. My current plan is to keep Sundays in May for writing ultra-short fiction based on random or spontaneous notions, so that will make up the extra five days.

My challenge to you is: join me. With all this A to Z action, there are a ton of story prompts out there for us to use. Feel free to use mine! Each of my posts this month could go in a bunch of different directions. Novel writers, take a break from your WiPs and try short fiction. Bloggers, give yourselves the chance to write something that lets your imagination soar. And short story writers: let's flex those muscles. Let's pound out the word count like we're writing in the pulp era. Let's take care of business.

If you are participating in Story a Day, let me know in the comments to this post and I'll add you to my sidebar. Make sure you keep us up to date on how the challenge is going for you.

Tulpa

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In certain Buddhist sects, including the Tibetan tradition, a tulpa is the concrete physical manifestation of a thought-form. All conscious beings - from the One Mind of the Universe to the deities to human beings - are capable of giving physical form to their thoughts. When a person / magician manifests a thought-form in reality, that thought-form is called a tulpa.

The analogy most commonly given for creating a tulpa is that of the architect: first he creates the form of the building he is designing, and then he makes that form manifest in three dimensional reality - albeit with the help of construction crews and building inspectors and site supervisors.

The magician who brings forth a tulpa, however, does so with pure mental focus, and by giving energy to the form.

One of the first westerners to work with the tulpa concept was Alexandra David-Néel. This remarkable woman was among the first Europeans to travel to Tibet, long before it was open to outsiders, in the early 1900s. She adopted a young Tibetan, Aphur Yongden, pictured with her here:

David-Néel with Aphur Yongden
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David-Néel studied Tibetan Buddhism deeply, and wrote many books on the subject. She received tulpa training, and decided to give it a try. The results were more than a bit creepy:

The method involved was essentially intense concentration and visualization. David-Neel's tulpa began its existence as a plump, benign little monk, similar to Friar Tuck. It was at first entirely subjective, but gradually, with practice, she was able to visualize the tulpa out there, like an imaginary ghost flitting about the real world. 

In time the vision grew in clarity and substance until it was indistinguishable from physical reality-a sort of self-induced hallucination. But the day came when the hallucination slipped from her conscious control. She discovered that the monk would appear from time to time when she had not willed it. Furthermore her friendly little figure was slimming down and taking on a distinctly sinister aspect. 

Eventually her companions, who where unaware of the mental disciplines she was practicing, began to ask about the "stranger" who had turned up in their camp-a clear indication that a creature which was no more that solidified imagination had definite objective reality.
At this point, David-Neel decided things had gone too far and applied different lamaist techniques to reabsorb the creature into her own mind. The tulpa proved very unwillling to face destruction in this way so that the process took several weeks and left its creator exhausted.

In Western circles, other tulpa-like experiments include The Philip Experiment performed by the Toronto branch of the Society for Psychical Research in the early 1970s. This group of experimenters created a totally fictional character, a 17th century nobleman called Philip, for whom they concocted an elaborate and tragic story. They then tried to conjure Philip, to see if they could give their fictional creation a life of its own. Several attempts at séance style contact failed. The group resorted to just sitting around and discussing Philip, or even just hanging out together with Philip in mind.

After a little while, Philip started to make his presence known through standard ghostly techniques: knocking and scratching on the table, moving furniture, and other creepy signs. (Go here for a more detailed discussion of the Philip Experiment and here to watch a video about Philip.)

When we create fictional characters, we take one giant step toward creating a tulpa. We give physical and emotional and intellectual traits to these people. Many writers experience the phenomenon whereby their characters do things unexpectedly, or insist on a course of action that the writer himself would never choose. They are becoming their own people.

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Serpent

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The humble snake or serpent carries a lot of symbolic weight in this world of ours. In the west, serpents have taken on an extremely negative connotation from their association with the forces of evil, courtesy of the story of Genesis (3:1-5 - this is from the KJV):

Now the serpent was more subtil than any beast of the field which the LORD God had made. And he said unto the woman, Yea, hath God said, Ye shall not eat of every tree of the garden? 

And the woman said unto the serpent, We may eat of the fruit of the trees of the garden: 

But of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden, God hath said, Ye shall not eat of it, neither shall ye touch it, lest ye die. 

And the serpent said unto the woman, Ye shall not surely die: 

For God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods*, knowing good and evil.

This first demonstration of the potency of humanity's free will is, of course, an incredible disaster. Adam and Eve get booted from the Garden; by some accounts they enter into the world of pain and mortality; they are forever separated from the earthly paradise.

Sometimes the serpent of Genesis is depicted as a literal snake in western art:

Jean Baptiste Marie Pierre, The Temptation of Eve (18th Century)

I prefer the Medieval and Renaissance tradition of depicting him as a weird sort of snake with human parts:

Marriage of Adam and Eve and Temptation of Eve, dated 1324

Temptation of Eve c. 1450

In Eastern traditions, the serpent takes on an entirely other set of meanings. Yogis trained their bodies and minds in order to awaken Kundalini, a powerful spiritual energy that sits coiled at the base of the spine, and is dormant in most people. Once awakened, Kundalini enables the practitioner to unite his or her consciousness with the Universal consciousness, or Shiva.

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The Western remnant of the knowledge of Kundalini is in the medical symbol of the Caduceus, a pair of intertwined snakes wrapped around a central post, with a pair of wings at the top.

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My tai chi teacher says that the two serpents represent the twin energies of the physical and the emotional. United together and harmonized, these two energies support spiritual endeavours and the spiritual aspect of our being. Each place where the Caduceus intertwines, including the place where the heads face each other, marks the location of a major chakra point, from the root to the crown.

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In western alchemy and occult practices, the Caduceus was the symbol of the illuminated individual who had managed to elevate himself to the level of godhood through his practices. In such images, eastern and western practices mirror each other, revealing that this alternative view of the serpent persisted despite the negative associations of Genesis.

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               *  (For the Buffy fans)

Rage

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Few emotions are as pure as rage. We love; we grieve; we fear; we worry; we rejoice. Seldom do we act decisively on these emotions, preferring to behave tentatively, quietly, or subtly. But when we rage, we often feel totally self-righteous. Never is the temptation to let our emotions loose on another human being so strong as when we are steamingly, overwhelmingly enraged.

Rage has many different inflections, too: outrage; simmering, slow-boil level righteous anger; the desire, simply, to squash that which you hate.

Rage is a popular posture among those who are interested in social justice. "Rage Against the Machine," anyone? They make great music, but is rage the most effective emotion to cultivate if you're interested in busting the cultural elite?

No emotion eats you up faster. In traditional Chinese medicine, anger is thought to deplete the energy of the liver. Chronic ragers are prime candidates for liver disease, and by extension, nervous system disorders like Parkinson's or Alzheimer's, since the liver governs the nervous system. Anger is one of the traditional Chinese Seven Deadly Emotions, as it is one of the traditional Western Seven Deadly Sins, where it appears under the guise of Wrath.

"Wrath," from the Seven Deadly Sins Series by Katie Szadziewska

One of the most excellent portrayals of Wrath occurs in Christopher Marlowe's Dr. Faustus. If you're not familiar with the Faust story, Dr. Faustus sells his soul to the devil in exchange for power here on earth. For his entertainment, he asks his demonic servant Mephistopheles to arrange for a parade of the Seven Deadly Sins. Faustus interviews each of them in turn. Wrath tells him,

I am Wrath. I had neither father nor mother: I leapt out of a lion's mouth when I was scarce an hour old; and ever since have run up and down the world with this case of rapiers, wounding myself when I could get none to fight withal. I was born in hell; and look to it, for some of you shall be my father.

Anger / Wrath, by Jacques Callot, c. 1620
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Quean

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No, not "queen." Quean.

You'll see this word pop up from time to time in the language of Shakespeare and his contemporaries. A quean is a disreputable, upstart, boisterous, impudent woman. The term is also synonymous with "prostitute."

Venus, Cupid, Folly and Time by Bronzino, c. 1546
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A true quean always knows how to stir up maximum trouble. Even if she's a nun.

From Holbein's Danse Macabre, "The Nun"
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To be a quean is to be brazen. It's a derogatory term, but there have always been women who managed to wear it well.

Pox

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Small pox, chicken pox: there are lots of different types of pox, but only one earned the name "The Pox" and "The Great Pox" - syphilis. As much as I admire the plague, syphilis has a special place in my heart as the Reigning Queen of All Diseases. She is enduring, she is mysterious, and she was a complete barbarian when she first hit Europe.

The fact is, nobody knows where or how syphilis originated. In 1494, she made herself known, during the seige of Naples by King Charles VIII of France. Having taken ample advantage of the local sexual delicacies, which were ripe with what was called "the New Disease," Charles's mercenary army went back home to their various native countries defeated and infected. Presto chango: syphilis spread across Europe almost overnight.

That year - 1494 - has led some to speculate that syphilis was a New World disease, brought back by Columbus and his friends on their return from their maiden voyage. There is evidence that syphilis was present in pre-Columbian South America, but as the Conquistadors moved through new territories, European syphilis seemed just as brutally infectious to the natives as everything else we gave them. Some studies have shown that certain Old World populations had syphilis-like symptoms prior to 1494. It may simply be that the bacteria responsible for syphilis mutated in exactly the right ways to cause a new epidemic.

Early medicine looked to planetary influences to try to account for the disease. They pointed to a particular conjunction of  planets that occurred in 1484 as the cause of a widespread poisoning of the earth, air, and waters, which showed as the symptoms of syphilis.

1484, The Nativity of Syphilis, attributed to Albrecht Durer

In the early days, the symptoms were incredibly severe. Early reports mention men's limbs falling off in a matter of days. So severe were the deep level lesions, an infected person would feel that her bones were breaking. Noses fell off; internal organs rotted; skin was deeply pocked.

Getting syphilis was relatively easy in those days. Curing it was next door to impossible. Armed with herbal and dietary cures, early physicians were ill equipped to purge their patients of this insidious infection.

Couple undergoing syphilis cure, early 16th century
Image depicts doctors examining patient's urine to evaluate her health (upper right corner) and applying mercury-based salve to syphilitic pox (lower middle).

The quest for a cure for syphilis opened the door to new medical technologies. Enter Paracelsus and his chemical / alchemical school of thought. Focusing on single-element cures for diseases, Paracelsus and his followers decided that mercury was a great thing to give syphilitics. Remember that the whole point of early medicine is to make stuff come out of people. When you're poisoned by mercury, your body tries to sweat and salivate (not to mention vomit, shit and otherwise purge) it out. Physicians argued that the mercury cure was the only way to get rid of such a pernicious infection as syphilis. Of course, there was a strong hint of moral righteousness to arguments in the period that infected people deserved the harsh punishment of the mercury cure. Many physicians acknowledged that if syphilis didn't kill you, the mercury cure probably would.

Eventually, people got used to the reality of syphilis, and the disease seemed to accommodate itself to European life. After the initial wave of infection, syphilis settled down and would now take years to kill, and sometimes years to show itself. It became known as a secret, insidious disease. The most beautiful, apparently untouched youth could in fact be a rotting corpse on the inside. You wouldn't know until you slept with him or her, and then it would be too late.

"Deformitie, within may bee,
Where outward Beauties we doe see."
From George Wither's Emblems, Ancient and Moderne, 1635

These attitudes continued throughout the centuries, right up until the modern discovery of antibiotics. Even through the World Wars, syphilis posed a major threat to the Allies' confidence in sending young, inexperienced men overseas, as these wartime posters attest.

It's easy for us to forget that syphilis was once synonymous with casual sex.

Like many other phenomena, syphilis served to reinforce negative perceptions of women and women's sexuality.

This is my favourite (depicting Hitler, Hirohito, and V.D.):