Ezekiel

One of my characters uses Bible verses in her magic, like when she needs to create a circle of salt strong enough to hold any unknown being, she gets all “If the salt has lost its power, how shall it be made salty again? The only thing it is good for is to be cast out.” Which, of course, I love because it’s a Violent Femmes song.

But of course, since I spent all that time reading up on Appalachian folklore, I remembered that there was a Bible verse the mountain folks use to stop bleeding and it came up in writing today, so I went in search of it. Turns out that it’s Ezekiel 16:6–“And when I passed by you and saw you polluted in your own blood, I said unto you, ‘Live.’ When you were in your blood, ‘Live.’ Yes, I said unto you when you were in your blood, ‘Live.’”–but I got distracted by the story of Oholah and Oholibah, which is… you know… not the kind of thing you expect to be skipping gayly along in your Bible and stumble across.

Wow.

But, as you might have guessed, Gordon Gano’s got a song about that, too. Um, I guess, if you’re not familiar with Oholah and Oholibah, I’ll trigger-warn you on this. Though in fairness, the song is only five minutes of “You and your sister fucked horses. I hate you. Love, God.” where as Ezekiel 23 is a whole chapter of “You and your sister fucked horses. I hate you. Love, God.” So, click carefully.

Reminds Me of the Dreaming Dead

I have jumped through a particularly difficult narrative hoop, poorly. I am, honestly, writing the most ridiculous Civil War-era book ever. And I’m trying out titles, just for fun. Last night I was thinking something like On Spruce Street in Nashville and all day yesterday I was toying with something from “Long Black Veil” and couldn’t quite make it work. Today I’m trying on Remind Me of the Dreaming Dead. I kind of really love it. It’s weird. You know there are going to be dead people and I feel like it gets at what I’m trying to accomplish narratively, where it’s not clear if this is a legend or a memory or a dream.

We’ll see. I’m nowhere near the end and I may change my mind. It’s not like Flock, where when Bridgett pointed out that should be the name it was like “Yep, there are all my themes.”

This next part has to be genuinely scary and, frankly, I don’t think I’m a good scary writer. Creepy. Yes. I think I can do creepy well. But out and out scary? I don’t know.

But it’s good to stretch myself, right?