On Liberty

               

It’s easy to be deceived by the Empire, to be lulled by its venomous supplications. The Empire was designed to be this way and we are all subjects of the Empire. But we live in Apocalyptic times when all the mysteries of God are being revealed. Know this Gnosis. Here is the hour of our greatest moment. The moment we choose liberty over slavery. There are no small players, no unimportant people; each and every one of us must make that choice. And it is easy, almost natural, to choose slavery because what has been enslaved is not only our bodies, but our minds. We have been conditioned since birth to exist in a slave mindset. As odd as it sounds, it is a comfortable mindset for this reason. It makes us feel safe and well fed. Why should we fail to trust the shepherds when they’ve taken us this far? Better to follow along, for surely these will be greener pastures.

 Never mind the growing number of your flock who are led off by the shepherds never to return…greener pastures.

The shepherds would never harm you. You are special, helpful, and useful. Just look at all the wool you’ve given…greener pastures.

Not like those other useless eaters who are crowding the planet. Humanity is a virus and all useless eaters need to be removed…greener pastures.

After all we are nothing but grist for the mill…greener pastures.

As before, we are some hungry king’s epic last meal…greener pastures.

Choosing slavery is easy. But choosing liberty is a struggle. Choosing Liberty means claiming sovereignty over yourself. The Will of the individual opposes the whims of the mob. Know this Gnosis. Liberty is freedom from the whims of the mob which really only serve the appetites of the shepherds. Liberty means having the scales fall off your eyes. We were born blind and have lived our entire lives devoid of INsight, but through liberty we see. To obtain Liberty one must first quit being a slave and as we know, being a slave is easy. One must answer the question: Am I WILLing (key word) to leave the shepherds folds to become free? Am I WILLing to take responsibility for my own life? My own pursuit of happiness? This is what makes freedom so powerful: it puts us in charge of ourselves and our lives. Whether we live or die, prosper or flounder, rise above or fall below, with Liberty that power is ours. And what a great power it is! Personal responsibility is the foundation of Liberty and as such, Liberty isn’t for those who are content to be sheep. There can be no unwarranted restrictions on an individual because the individual is supreme. The individual has certain inalienable rights to which they are entitled: life, LIBERTY, and the pursuit of happiness.

But what does it take to obtain Liberty? What is its cost? It costs everything, because if you lose it you lose everything anyway. Everything you’ve worked for, all the wealth, property, and assets you’ve amassed through suffering and toil, will evaporate. Your entire life and reason for being will slip through your fingers like so much sand. Only Liberty secures the individual’s right to make a life for herself and get a taste of the true American Dream. You’ve only got one option with Liberty: Liberty or death. It is the responsibility of individuals to safeguard these rights against the machinations of the Empire.

The shepherds work for the Empire. They keep us herded together, sedated, and content while they fatten us for slaughter. As a slave, our lives mean nothing, they are worth nothing. Neither our shepherds nor their masters have any love or respect in their hearts for us. They serve the Empire and the Empire only desires power and control.

Every time Liberty has broken through the Empire’s fog, it has been swallowed by the avaricious machine. Know this Gnosis. Eventually the Empire turns on the individual because it is threatened by Liberty. Terrified of it. Everything given to us in order to shine a light on the bars of the Empire’s Black Iron Prison is turned against us, coopted by the Empire itself and twisted toward its own ends. This is the nature of the beast, so to speak, and the reason we are indoctrinated against our own individuality from birth. This is the reason we are made to believe that humanity itself is nothing more than a virus; that our lives aren’t worth anything and we are useless consumers killing the planet. The reason that the Georgia Guidestones instruct people to balance “personal freedom with social duty.”  

For the Empire, Liberty means loss of control, loss of power. The Empire is a hive mind and reality must become homogenous in order to perpetuate this state of existence. But the individual is his own mind. Something distinct. Do you see the conflict yet? The individual is diametrically opposed to the hive mind. He (or she) is apart from it and cannot exist within it. This is part of choosing Liberty. A free individual is beholden to no government. Instead, the government is beholden to the individual. The core of Liberty is thus the individual Will which is reflected by the Will of the People.

What we are seeing now is the construction of a new social contract. Only this contract is utterly and completely opposed to Liberty. Know this Gnosis. This is a Faustian contract designed to offer perceived security and removing all personal responsibility. If you agree to it you will be accepted into the fold, the shepherds are waiting with open arms. All it costs is your Will—your very soul. Because an individual’s true Will first manifests in their Soul. To give that up is to forfeit your essence—your Liberty—your sovereignty. What good is life then? What is its worth?

Worth is measured by the value we assign to things. Know this Gnosis. The idea of Liberty is something that’s worth has been diluted. We have lost the connection to the reality of Liberty. It has become a high ideal that we put on t-shirts or into ad slogans. The Liberty of our Founding Fathers faded into myth generations ago. But the truth of it never died; it remained dormant within all of us, waiting for the long winter to end so it could once more awaken into the light. That time is now. We are living in times where the subjectivity of Liberty has fallen away and we are once more faced with its reality.

I urge you to search within yourself—deep inside where the stirrings of truth are hidden beneath the ever-shifting ego. Find your soul and ask it what freedom is worth.  If you can honestly answer that this Faustian bargain you are being offered is in your best interest and fundamentally a good thing, then congratulations little lamb, you have chosen slavery. Know this Gnosis. May God have mercy on your soul because the devil sure won’t.

But if your soul cries out in horror at what is being demanded of it, if it cannot stand the thought of giving up its sovereignty, if it cries out to defend your fundamental rights as an individual because it understands that there are things worse than death, then choose Liberty. And know in your heart that you understand the truth of freedom—not as an ideal, but as an inalienable right granted to us by the God above gods. Look to God and to Him alone. Not to your images of God, nor to your ideas of God, but look to the God above those gods. To the God who is Love. This is where Salvation lies.

An update on Boxes of Blood

Review for The Ruined Man Series

Thank you to Carl Knauf for this excellent review of The Ruined Man and The Dark Goddess!

DeGray truly masters the influence of evil in The Dark Goddess, pushing the limits even more than he did in The Ruined Man, and it’s executed brilliantly.

Read it all via Writers’ Block

The Definition of Enchantment

bottomless1promo

Explore the enchantment of #NewMexico hidden in the weird world of #victorwolf.
Get started here:
#theruinedman #thedarkgoddess #NMBooks #read #kindle

New Short Story in The Ruined Man Series

Find out why Albert Caine has a severed head in his refrigerator. Read Blood and Lust for free from Michelkin Publishing!

https://www.michelkin.com/bloodlust.html

The Dark Goddess Is Out!

Check it out and return to the weird world of Victor Wolf! Share the news!

The Ruined Man Giveaway

My new book, The Dark Goddess, drops Friday, January 19! In anticipation of that glorious event, I am giving away two signed copies of The Ruined Man. If you haven’t read it, now is the chance to plunge into the gritty world of Victor Wolf for free! If you have read it, you can have a copy to share with friends or family!

Entry is easy. Just click on the link below and get started!

 

Win a signed copy of The Ruined Man

And don’t forget to preorder The Dark Goddess on Amazon!

Vortex Blues 

I had a short story published in Altered Reality. Check it out here:

Vortex Blues

3 Reasons To Watch Shut Eye Right Now

https://wp.me/p8uxvn-zgy

Adventures In Publishing: The Ruined Man

After the excitement from “The Saga of Shamus” died down I took a step back and decided to work on my craft. Learn how to smith the words better. To accomplish this, I started writing short stories like a mad man. This was a relatively new field for me. Until then I had mostly written plays and novellas. I had just moved to Albuquerque and me and my friend Brandon would spend our weekend mornings writing. And believe me, I wrote. And wrote. And wrote. I churned out at least one short story a week for a weeks on end.  Most of these stories were garbage and will never see the light of day. I collected my favorites and self-published a collection called “Twisted Yarns.”  I know what you’re thinking. Why would I self-publish again? What would possess me to want to undertake that exercise in humility again? To be honest, I was getting discouraged. Because even though I was churning out garbage short stories at a record pace, I couldn’t find anyone to publish them. Most of the stories I wrote were too long for the word counts of these publications. Flash fiction was really big at the time and everyone thought that if you couldn’t tell a story in under 1000 words, it wasn’t really a story. I don’t write 1000 word short stories. Hell, I don’t even write 3500 word short stories. My short stories start at 7500 words and usually top out somewhere around 10k.  And the few places that did accept lengthy stories gave me nothing but encouraging rejections. If you’re a writer, you know the kind.

“Great story, but not what we’re looking for right now.”

“Really enjoyed the story, but doesn’t fit our issue. What else do you have?”

And so on and so forth. Over and over again. One rejection after another in a constant flow of bad news. After a while the ego takes a hit. After a while you start asking yourself questions and doubting yourself and your talent.

jasonsitting2-e1498261364820.jpg

One of the stories to come out of this frenzy of writing was the original short story version of, “The Ruined Man.” The story actually followed the events of the upcoming book 2. I sent a copy to my old creative writing professor and he got back to me the same day with, “Turn this into a book! It NEEDS to be a book!” So that’s what I set out to do.

Turning a short story into a full-length novel is no easy feat. I’ve heard it said they are two separate modes of writing. A short story is like a passionate kiss from a stranger. It is fast, unexpected and leaves you breathless and wanting more. Whereas a novel is like a love affair. It’s slow, develops over time and is chock full of emotional highs and lows.  So the trick was how to turn a passionate kiss into a love affair. I decided to start at the beginning, like all good love affairs. I told the story of how Victor Wolf became the Ruined Man—a story that ended up beginning 15 years in the past.  The story, which ended up being book one, “The Ruined Man,” flowed out of me as if Wolf was telling it to me over afternoon coffee.  Before I knew it, I had completed the Purple Gates story and had to move on to the second half which covered the events in the short story.  Turning that into a love affair was difficult and took years. Literally years.  The few query letters I did send out about The Ruined Man were met with rejection (surprise, surprise). Even after the discouragement settled in and I quit writing, I would still go back to Wolf and tinker around with the novel. It soon became a monster. A monster that I loved like a child. A beast I wanted to protect from the slings and arrows of all the nasty assholes rejecting my work and chipping away at my self-esteem.  So I kept the book locked away in the fortress of my hard drive like the electronic manifestation of the Man in the Iron Mask.

Eventually, I quit looking at it altogether. Because I had finally had enough. Enough rejection. Enough criticism. Enough ridicule. Enough hearing loved ones talk about how I needed to “find a real job” and leave this writing thing behind. Those of you who know me know how huge this decision would be for me. All I ever wanted was to be a storyteller. Period. From the time my imagination started imagining I was making up stories. There is nothing I love to do more than get lost in my imagination and find a story there to share with others. I had spent years of my life not listening to all the naysayers. My high school teachers begged me not to be a writer. My college professors begged me not to be a writer. My parents REALLY begged me not to be a writer.

“There’s no money in it.”

“You’ll be poor your whole life!”

“Nobody respects writers! They are slackers and miscreants!”

Ad infimum.

I ignored them all and pursued my dream only to find out they were right. As I said in my last blog, I was one voice in a cacophony of thousands trying to get heard. Few people listened. Fewer cared.  Everybody wants to be a writer but nobody wants to read. I was discouraged, disgusted and frustrated and I was getting real tired of rejection. So I decided to leave it behind and get a job in IT. There is nothing more soul-crushing than giving up on your dreams.  Very little else will take the light from your eyes and the life from your step like losing a piece of who you are. But I had to. I couldn’t take the pain any more. I couldn’t take the feelings of inadequacy and worthlessness. I couldn’t take the smoldering disappointment I felt radiating from everyone around me. I had been defeated. So I stepped back and “gave it to God.”

I felt it leave in that moment—the fire I had kept stoked for years just didn’t die, it was snuffed out. As my imagination dimmed, a sharp pang stabbed my heart. It felt exactly like breaking up with someone. The loss was immense.

Franz Kafka said a non-writing writer is a monster courting insanity. Franz Kafka knew something about it because I learned the truth in that statement pretty quickly. My whole life I used writing to process the world around me. The stories, poems, plays and essays I’d written were fueled by a myriad of emotions. But that was gone now. I didn’t have an outlet for creative expression. Those were dark days.

FB_20160316_23_01_51_Saved_Picture

During the summer of 2016 I came across Michelkin Publishing’s call for submissions. They were an indie house out of New Mexico and they were seeking local writers with books about New Mexico. Bonus points for magical realism. My thoughts immediately went to The Ruined Man, but I quickly pushed it back. I had quit writing. I didn’t want any more rejection.  I gave it to God and He decided to keep it. All my passion for writing was gone. But I kept going back to it for days. Finally I relented.

“It’s no big deal,” I convinced myself. “You haven’t gotten a rejection in years, you can handle at least one. It doesn’t even matter. It’s not like you’re a writer anymore, anyway. Accepted or rejected, it’s all the same now. Besides, it’ll be rejected for sure. No doubt.”

So I went to Michelkin’s site and filled out the submission form and included a summary of my monstrous word-baby. I clicked send and was hit with a brief spike of excitement that was quickly dulled over. Then I waited. Waited for the rejection I was sure would come.

“Dear Mr. DeGray,

Thank you for your submission but we can’t find room for you right now.

Signed,

Every publisher or agent ever”

The morning I got the email from Michelkin’s publishing department that’s what I expected it to read. But that’s not what it said. They actually said they liked the summary and wanted to see the first 50 pages. I couldn’t believe it. I was shaking as I dove into the electronic dungeon of my hard drive. My heart pumped wildly as I opened the key and let my Monster in the Iron Mask see light for the first time in ages. I spit-shined the manuscript and sent them what they asked for. Then I waited again.

And waited.

And waited.

Months later I got another email. Again, I expected this to be the one where they thanked me for my time but they had decided to pass. Again, not what happened. They felt the first 50 were solid and wanted to see the whole manuscript. I almost cried. No joke. I spent the weekend polishing up my beloved brain-child and sent it off to them. And then I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

By this time I was getting anxious. It was December now and I hadn’t heard a thing from them since the end of September. I was convinced they hated it and hadn’t gotten around to sending me the rejection yet. I tried not to care, but the fire had been sparked inside me again. It burned with a tiny flame. Like a tea light–a miniature flicker of light in a sea of dark hopelessness. It was fragile and I knew that this rejection would snuff it out for good. I couldn’t help but wonder if that was the cosmic plan behind it, the killing blow that would ensure I would never get back up. And then it came.

December 10, 2016 I was at my niece’s birthday party when I got an email from Michelkin Publishing. My throat instantly dried and I was hit with a rush of excitement. I took three deep breaths and returned to the party. Later, after I had gotten home, I paced around for at least an hour terrified to open the email. Finally, I steeled my resolve and read the email.

They said they’d be happy to publish my manuscript. In two books. I cried. No joke. And that tiny flame suddenly grew into a blazing beacon.

And now, six months later, my first published novel is actually out. It feels great, I can’t lie. It’s blissful to no longer be a monster courting insanity. All dreams are worth living. That’s what I took away from this adventure in publishing. No matter who you are, no matter what your secret dream is—live it. Don’t let the wet blanket of hopelessness put out your fire. Don’t let the criticism and disapproval of others guide the direction you take.  It is YOUR life, after all. You are the one who has to live it, so live it well.

jasonwriting.jpg