Superstition

I’m the last person you would expect

I have a Ph.D., yet I am superstitious. Not in the way typically meant by that. I have a mostly black cat. I break mirrors all the time because I am preternaturally clumsy, and I have opened umbrellas in the house. And whistled past graveyards, just for fun. So I’m not superstitious in the traditional way.

I am superstitious in terms of curses. If something bad happens to me, especially in screwing up my work or writing life, it must be a curse, and the bad things will keep happening until I break the curse.

Breaking the curse

There’s only one problem with my superstitions: I don’t know how to break a curse. First, I imagine no specific person cursing me; I think it’s probably fate who has it in for me. (This is so irrational it embarrasses me). How can I break a curse with that sort of provenance?

I sincerely think I can, however, if I could figure out how. My superstition includes not magic, but symbolic psychology indistinguishable from sympathetic magic (because I have a Ph.D., of course).

When I write this down, the rational side of me cringes. I mean really cringes. But that’s the flip side of the problem — this is something I’m probably doing to myself subconsciously. My belief that I am failing might cause me to avoid what I need to do to succeed — at least that’s the psychological explanation; I’ve already admitted I’m superstitious). So who is cursing me? Me.

Time for me to do some ritual to reclaim at least as much luck as other people have. I don’t want to be too lucky, because good luck attracts bad influences.

I told you I was superstitious.

Friday the 13th

Friday the 13th. It’s a good thing I’m not superstitious.

Or maybe I am. I throw salt over my left shoulder when I spill it. I don’t walk under ladders — though there’s a good reason there; walking under them tends to upset them.

I don’t open umbrellas in the house, mostly because my mother gently told me that open umbrellas in the house were bad luck. I instead go through an awkward dance of opening the umbrella while it’s sticking out the door and I’m still inside.

I don’t break mirrors. Who does? They’re a silvery bitch of a mess to clean up.

Black cats are welcome in my house. In fact, I have one. I sometimes consider her bad luck, especially when she accidently trips me.

I whistle indoors, but very poorly, so I may only be summoning mediocre luck instead of bad.

Truly, though, I don’t think any of this makes a difference on Friday the 13th. We are all victims of confirmation bias on this day, infusing the random occurrence as bad luck in solidarity with the millions of others who do the same. Strangely, I don’t hear people blaming a dire event on Friday the 13th

The superstition behind Friday the 13th, in my opinion, a mass celebration of the stupid little things that happen to us. And that, with a little superstition, I can get behind.

Writing Superstitions part 2

I’ve written 1200 words so far on Gods’ Seeds* as I tackle the time-honored question, “What is the best way to begin this book?” Beginnings are important, so rather than just letting the writing flow (as I do with the rest of the book), I work harder to make the beginning shine right off.

I think it’s a superstition with me that I need a strong beginning but can just let words flow for the rest of the book and edit later. I do have my superstitions around writing, though. Nothing so obvious as a lucky shirt or favorite chair.

I plan to write in this blog every day, even if I write a fluff piece about coffee or cats** , because I believe that if I give this up, I will give writing up. So I write this blog in the morning, usually 5:30 AM Central US time, almost every day, even through depressive episodes, because I believe that if I give it up, I will give up being a writer.

Do I have other writing superstitions? As I use a computer for composition, no favorite pen, no favorite shirt, no favorite place in the house (today I’m writing in bed, propped up, with my Surface propped up on a lap desk because it’s Sunday morning and I can afford to be lazy today). Nope, just the one where I stick the beginning of the novel.

Maybe I need more superstitions — where I can’t write without coffee, or I pet my cat 14 times before I write or I have to wear my thinking cap*** or … naaah, I’ll stick to the superstition I have. It doesn’t limit me much.

* I will change the name of this. See yesterday’s blog as to why I haven’t yet.
** Or coffee and cats.
*** I typed this “thinking cat”.

Dream sequences

I love writing dream sequences. They allow me to write abstract sequences that nonetheless hint to future developments of the plot.

My idea here is that we do a lot of subconscious processing when we dream. One theory of dreams, which does not sit well with non-scientists, is that the objects and happenings in our dreams are processed and reviewed to put into long-term storage. If your newfound Aunt Martha reminds you of your long-departed Aunt Mary, you’re as likely to dream of Martha as Mary that night, because your short-term memory connects Martha and Mary. The next morning, you think to yourself, “Oh, that’s why I felt the presence of a ghost — Aunt Martha reminds me of my dearly departed Aunt Mary!” often without remembering the dream.

Non-scientists like to believe that dreams are ripe for interpretation. Freudians have set symbols they look for in dreams, focusing on the Freudian hallmarks, the urges and taboos we sublimate to be acceptable adults: sex, defecation, and death. An interesting situation in Freudian interpretation: dreaming of turning on a faucet symbolizes sex. Dreaming of having sex with someone does not. Many dream interpretation books on the market are at least semi-Freudian in their interpretations.

Meanwhile, Jungian interpretation focuses on the people in your dream, and how they resemble the archetypes that feature heavily in our stories and deeper psyche. So the Jungian dream would look at the animus (your darker self), mentors, quests — in other words, Jung puts your dream through a Star Wars filter.

Others’ take on dreams is that they give messages — not only the result of subconscious processing above, but prosaic messages from the outside that the brain connects — much like the scientific theory above — but precognitive messages, messages from mystical connections, messages from others alive or dead, messages from our most inner self. Even though this sounds like mental illness, we all know people we call superstitious that have these beliefs. The person who dreams of deceased Aunt Mary believes that anything Mary said or did in the dream is a direct message. They may believe that they themselves are the next family member slated to die. A common belief is that cardinals carry messages from the dead, so someone might dream of a cardinal instead of Aunt Mary.

When I write about dreams, they have elements of subconscious processing of mysteries with a touch of the mystical — but just a light touch. Generally, a series of seemingly unrelated data come together through subconscious reasoning — but still may not be interpretable to the dreamer because of the need to disbelieve. At the end, I introduce the mystical finger pointing to a future revelation. That’s just how I do it, and I’m sure the Freudians and Jungians disagree.

I wrote a dream last night and I’m really proud of it. I may show it to you later.

**********
This morning I start at 32,000 words, give or take a couple. My goal is to be finished by Friday, which gets me to the 50,000 goal 14 days ahead of time. I will continue writing, except at a slower pace, and I will have a writers’ retreat (with massage! And sauna and steam bath and hot tub oh my!) at The Elms in Excelsior Springs for Thanksgiving with Richard!

Love you all.