I’ve realized something. My greatest creative asset is my collective knowledge of mythos, folklore, magick, and the like.
Each time I find myself in the midst of a new novel or series, magick and the Gods enter soon after. Immortals quickly begin wreaking havoc in the human realm/world, we learn a little bit more about world mythology and where we come from, and spells, seals, and sigils fly all over the place.
More importantly, the Gods become real in each of my series. It doesn’t matter which ones. Which pantheons. I love them all. Greek. Egyptian. Sumerian. Norse.
For me and my readers, they may have been human once. They aren’t treated as obtuse objects that wag their fingers in some faraway place.
They are real. Flawed. Damaged. Angry. Loving. Fearful. Dangerous. They’re more than just powerful and omniscient. Everything they do, they do with cause.
It is a huge mountain that I’ve undertaken, and some authors choose this same niche. Our plots are wieldly, and they easily span millennia. Resurrecting a deity is one thing, but when their own motives and histories span multiple arcs or novels, they become characters. It’s not for everyone, but it is for me and those like me.
I give reason to the mythos, a backstory to our childhood education. Fenrir is actually a good guy in the second novel in TNW saga, even though he’s trapped in Niflheim and chained to the ice. He’s human, and has lost his wife and son due to his foiled attempts at outsmarting the Gods at their own game.
One of the most powerful novels of my childhood was Neil Gaiman’s American Gods, and its breadth has not left me yet. Its evidence is clear in everything I write. I had hoped to be more like Robert Jordan or Elizabeth Haydon, but it seems my tales far favor Gaiman and mythological author Juliet Marillier.
For us, myths are everything.
The psychology behind mythos as a whole is that we, as humans, compartmentalize the inexplicable, with our brain transforming it into a palpable beast that we can then internalize and process. We seek to understand what it means to be human, so we search for that which is not.
In our journey to understand something greater than ourselves do we then learn about ourselves.
They say the gods, angels, and demons are all modeled after mankind and the world around society.
We needed to explain the darkness so we did.
We needed to know why we die, so we do.
We needed to understand why the seasons change and how our hearts can ache so deeply for what seems like eternity.
We needed guidance, direction. We needed an explanation that we could accept. Myths are very powerful things. They come from the oldest form of storytelling, from the bards and the cave-dwellers long before them.
They hold power, like the light of a sacred flame. They can control others for good or bad, as we all have seen over the millennia.
He who holds the mythos holds the world in his hands, but he who knows the truth has the power to destroy it.
The Celestial Compendium is the mythos surrounding the Genesis Trilogy, its realms/dimensions, and all of its inhabitants, both angelic and demonic. The work that went into this series, like the others, involved an exorbitant amount of research, even when I was fairly familiar with a certain god or hero. I wanted it to be concise and well written. I didn’t want plot-holes or data dumps. With some topics or was stuff I wasn’t as familiar with, the timeframe with back-plotting and researching turned into a full-time job.
I can’t be too upset though. This is what I wanted, and with the knowledge I’ve gained, I’m glad to have it.
So over the next few months, I’m going to cover old gods, new gods, half-breeds, demons, realms, locations and objects/places of power, angels, magick, rituals, alchemy, Enochian magick, and whatever else flights my fancy.
So stick around. You might learn a thing or two.
And if I didn’t say it already,
Welcome To Araboth.
Take a seat and strap in. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.
M. Dylan Blair