A while ago I decided that I needed to write a chapter of my ongoing story about fictional characters Mara and Samael bringing Cara into their bed and becoming a threesome. A story about them all sharing each other. The thing is, although I knew exactly how it would end, I was having a hard time writing a beginning. I outlined the story, but none of the real words would come out. I couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t write what I wanted to happen.
It didn’t bother me that much. I figured it was just because I am not a very proficient writer. Not a real writer. I’m not used to writing fiction. Obviously I was doing something wrong. It’s not like I know what I am doing. I am just making it all up as I go along.
The other day, a cousin wrote something in his blog that said “it’s easy when it’s true” and it was suddenly clear.
I couldn’t write about Samael sharing Mara because it isn’t true. Samael wouldn’t share her with anyone. She is his. He is hers. They belong to each other.
They might desire other people, but really? They are one.
People have an inner Truth, even if they don’t know what it is. So do stories, as it turns out. And telling the stories is easy when it’s true.
Or easier, anyway.
I suspect it’s never really easy.
Most things aren’t.
And figuring out what is True?
Well.
Maybe that’s not so easy, either.