infernalsapphic

[infernalsapphic]

The Magician

Once upon a time, I got an idea.

A wicked, life changing idea. I wanted to write a book. A series of books. All centered around a sapphic romance - in the backdrop of one of the world's worst settings. I wanted to turn heads, call attention, demand space. I was appalled by the lack of queer representation in mainstream fantasy books. And I've always wanted to be an author so why not?

Now let me explain. I know there's queer books out there - and trust me I'm a fan - but I'm talking about the attention to plot, to the world building, to the characters themselves. I want to write a book series so moving, so fascinating and immersive that you don't even realize it's queer until it's too late. You're sucked in. And then you're thinking. You're enjoying it. And then suddenly, representation isn't so weird. It's not such a foreign concept. Suddenly, you can't put the book down. My main characters make your heart race. You cry with them, you laugh with them, you get lost in their story.

This is my goal. It's been my goal since the very beginning. With this in mind, I started writing. And I kept writing. I did what any undiagnosed ADHD and autistic person would do - I hyper fixated for two months straight. In that time, I wrote 25 chapters, and planned out the other half. I think I've done a brilliant job so far, and I'm thoroughly excited to finish it.

There's just one little problem. What I failed to mention earlier is that I've been writing everything from first person perspective. My main character, a headstrong but ignorant woman named Phoebe - is a self assured lesbian. Confidently, even. And at first, this was no issue. At the time, I thought myself to be pansexual, so I absolutely thought I could write from a lesbian's perspective.

And then I started thinking. Why is writing this so easy? Why do I get all weird about romantic scenes? Why can't I write them with Mark (the boyfriend, remember) in the room? Why am I so obsessed with this?

it was beyond just hyper fixation. I couldn't go a day without thinking about my characters in various situations. None of which pertained even remotely to the plot. I envisioned them in day to day life. Being cute and romantic with each other.

Then other truths started cropping up left and right. Suddenly I couldn't finish the book I was reading - not because I wasn't interested, but because the romance had lost its appeal. I couldn't stand to be intimate with my boyfriend, even going so far as to fake it more often than not. I couldn't stand being around men. (not a surprise, I've always been a bit of a man hater.)

That's when the final truth came out. Not verbally, not yet. Rather instead it was a quiet admission to myself. One that I would take out and examine in the few quiet moments I had. A truth that I would fantasize about, only to shrug and put it away once the fantasy became too appealing. I hadn't planned to ever vocalize the truth. Honestly, I had planned to shove it in a box, and bury that box in the recesses of my mind. I was content to think that maybe it'll happen in another lifetime.

But, of course, some truths are too big to stay buried. Some truths are so life altering that they force you to act. They force you to confront them.

Naturally my confrontation came in the form of my best friend. You see, Bestie and I work for a company that sends us, and two of our other best friends, all over the country for two weeks at a time. It's honestly the best set up I've ever had. Especially since Bestie and I share a hotel room.

it's the perfect location for private best friend heart to hearts. And sharing a room with her is like a permanent sleep over for two weeks, then we go back to our separate houses (of course, we each have one side of a duplex.) She lives in the other side with her boyfriend of 13 years, Mark and I have the other side.

Of fucking course, during a heart to heart with Bestie, I blurt out "I think I might be a lesbian," much to Bestie's surprise. Hell, even I was a little shocked by the admission. I hadn't meant to vocalize that thought ever.

Bestie handled it perfectly. She was supportive, and gave me the space to talk everything out. And in doing so, I figured out so much more evidence that pointed towards that statement being less of a probability and more of an inevitable conclusion.

One day, it changed entirely. It solidified. It's like a sudden strike of clarity swept over me. One minute I was trying to figure out how best to write a scene, the next I'm sobbing into my pillow because of the feeling.

An intense wave of relief mixed with extreme guilt settled like a weight in my stomach. Between the knowledge that yes, I am a lesbian, and what comes next - I couldn't handle everything at once. So I ended up crying to Bestie for several hours, until I accepted the situation for what it is.

I'm a lesbian, who has been compulsively heterosexual for the last 29 years. Inevitably, the frustration set in. Why couldn't I figure this out sooner? Preferably before I entered a committed and monogamous relationship. Why did I have to wait so long?

Because paired with the frustration and the guilt, I knew there was only one outcome. Only one solution to this that would be morally correct and fair.

I need to end things with Mark.

[infernalsapphic]

Prologue: The Fool

For the record, I'm not what some would call an "open book," arguably I'm more like the book that's behind the counter. You know, the one that the store owner will never let you so much a breathe on? That one. That's me. So this is going to be rough, and difficult. But I'm going to do my best to keep myself honest. And open. And disgustingly vulnerable.

The whole reason I'm forcing myself out of my comfort zone is to take up space. I need my own corner of the internet, to voice my thoughts even if no one is listening...reading. So this is my journal. My own space. I don't get it anywhere else. So why not?

Read if you like, comment too if you want. But don't hate. Don't judge. (Goddess knows I'm going to get more than enough of both of those things from my own family.)

I am simply a woman, trying to make sense of the complete and utter bullshit I've somehow fallen into. Thanks, Universe, really.

Let me introduce myself. Let's say my name is...well, let's just call me Nyx. And I'm turning 30 in a few months. (Saturn's return is a bitch.) I am a practicing Witch, specializing in tarot and divination. I say "specializing" but that's just a fancy way for me to say that I get weird intuitive feelings and use tarot as a means to translate.

Call me crazy if you like, but I firmly believe I've got a literal Goddess for a guide - the absolute Queen herself, Lilith. She's been by my side my entire life, and I only just realized it years ago. Since then, I've kept her in my thoughts. And now, during this tumultuous time, she's my guiding star. My Death, in a time where something severely needs to die.

To further set the stage - I'm a writer, daughter, sister, and girlfriend to a loving and supportive boyfriend - let's call him Mark. My family adores Mark, which is hysterical because they've never approved of anything I've done. Hell, they didn't even acknowledge me as a responsible adult until I was 27. (That's a whole other blog post.)

I have been with my boyfriend for going on three years now. We live together, and have successfully built a life together. It's a good life, filled with laughter and joy. Sure, there's frustrations, there's arguments but only in healthy amounts. He's by far the best relationship I've ever been in. Despite any major issues we've encountered.

But of course, I wouldn't be doing this all if I was truly happy and content, would I? Who wants to read a blog about good times. We all know we're here for the drama, the tension, the absolute mess of it all.

Stay tuned, this is only the beginning after all.