Subterranean Notes, November 8: The source of inspiration, why tell this story, and devlog

This has been quite a creative week. I've also realized a few things I hadn't noticed before.

I am calling this "Subterranean Notes" because, honestly, I will post when I wish and can do it, not weekly. Most probably more often.

DEVLOG: MONSTER HUNTING QUESTS

I've made significant progress with the C# logic. Right now, I'm implementing variables and functions so that, depending on which king assigns the quest, both his portrait and the image of his palace are displayed. 

I'm also giving each ruler their own dialogue, including the quest introduction, their responses, and their gratitude message if you complete the mission.

After that, I'll need to create the illustrations. That means drawing a large number of monsters of different types to begin with. Then comes all the work of painting over them, generating parts, combining them again, repainting, and so on.

I hope to have it finished within this week and the following two.

WHY TELL THIS STORY. WHAT TRUE LOVE LOOKS LIKE, AND NOT THE SWEET & SUPERFICIAL VERSION THAT WE WERE TOLD.

I've noticed that several people who have read the book have pointed out something similar: that Sioul is very kind to Tamzyn, and vice versa. 

They've also remarked that when the two of them argue in one of the episodes, they're surprised by how quickly they resolve their conflicts. They understand each other easily, and adapt. 

That realization makes me feel that my story is necessary. We've become far too accustomed to relationships defined by bitter and intense arguments.

Tamzyn and Sioul do argue, especially once they become comfortable with each other, particularly in Book Two, but they always care more about each other than about continuing an argument.

It's sad that we've grown used to romances where couples have misunderstandings and never clarify them. Or where they argue angrily and insult each other. Or where being right matters more than reaching understanding.

We confuse intensity with depth. We confuse narcissism with passion.

And that makes me think my story contributes something meaningful: it tells a story of true love. 

But not in the sentimental sense of saying it's true simply because they enjoy being together. 

It's true because they grow to love each other through affinity, and because they come to understand that they are companions.

They begin as partners, and no one wants to disappoint a partner they depend on. Little by little, their relationship grows stronger through that mutual respect. 

They become life companions, always aware that the other person is free, that nothing should be taken for granted, and that cooperation makes everything possible. This is something that many couples lose sight of.

They risk their lives together. They make discoveries together. And before they ever become a couple, they have already developed harmony, respect, and a desire to be together. That, and nothing else, is true love.

There are many ways of loving, yes. But only this is good. That's my opinion. All the rest is nonsense. 

You didn't come to read my blog expecting a mild opinion, did you? Because if you did, you were wrong :D :D :D  I can relate to many things and understand everything, and what people do and why.... but not this. This is my limit. There are many shades of gray, but a color is a color, ok? Hope you agree. If you don't, that's life. But it won't change.

And because the world has forgotten this, my story is necessary.

THE MUSE

This week, I realized that whenever I've created something, the process has always been the same for me: entering a particular state of mind, letting go, channeling, creating.

That's how I used to write poetry. Whenever someone asked me to come up with rhymes on the fly, I never could. First I had to feel a special sensation, sometimes even close my eyes. Then it would arrive, and I would begin writing without pause.

Drawing is the same. I can make a few strokes, then enter a state of inspiration and draw things I wasn't even consciously thinking about. Other times, when drawing from a reference, I only think analytically about proportions. Then comes that familiar feeling of following a rhythm or a frequency.

Programming isn't much different. It's somewhat more rational, but I don't reach solutions by carefully connecting perfectly planned ideas. Instead, I see images of what I want to represent. Then I sense a path forward and implement it. The solutions often arrive during creative moments; I write them down and implement them later.

And writing is the same. It isn't calculated. I don't feel as though I'm creating from my own mind. Rather, it comes from somewhere else, and I'm merely an instrument. I create the right atmosphere, and I feel that sensation again of entering another world, or of something being there even though I cannot touch it.

"The walk".

Everything else comes after that. I like to think my muse is speaking to me, and I try to listen. I am already too old to lie to myself. No matter if the world understands or shares this feeling, it's there.

I won't accept that creating is an intellectual effort, or a skill that you train. The only skill you train is to listen.