Thursday, February 23, 2017

Global ritual to bind Donald Trump and those who abet his actions (version 2.1-ish)

[This is a ritual that has been making the circuit on social media--a global ritual to bind Trump and those aiding him--original author unknown.]

To be performed at midnight on every waning crescent moon until he is removed from office. The first ritual takes place Friday evening, February 24th, at the stroke of midnight. This binding spell is open source, and may be modified to fit your preferred spiritual practice or magical system — the critical elements are the simultaneity of the working (midnight, EST—DC, Mar-a-Lago, and Trump Tower NYC time) and the mass energy of participants.

Components:

Unflattering photo of Trump (small)
Tower tarot card (from any deck)
Tiny stub of an orange candle (cheap via Amazon)
Pin or small nail (to inscribe candle)
White candle (any size), representing the element of Fire
Small bowl of water, representing elemental Water
Small bowl of salt, representing elemental Earth
Feather (any), representing the element of Air
Matches or lighter
Ashtray or dish of sand

Optional:

Piece of pyrite (fool’s gold)
Sulfur Black thread (for traditional binding variant)
Baby carrot (as substitute for orange candle stub)

Preparation:

Write “Donald J. Trump” on the orange candle stub with a pin or nail
Arrange other items in a pleasing circle in front of you
Lean the Tower card against something so that it’s standing up (vertically)
Say a prayer for protection and invoke blessing from your preferred spirit or deity.

Reading the 23rd Psalm aloud is common in Hoodoo/Conjure/Rootwork traditions.

Experienced magicians may perform an appropriate banishing ritual.

RITUAL (v. 2.1)

(Light white candle)

Hear me, oh spirits Of Water, Earth, Fire, and Air
Heavenly hosts
Demons of the infernal realms
And spirits of the ancestors
(Light inscribed orange candle stub)

 I call upon you
To bind Donald J. Trump
So that he may fail utterly
That he may do no harm
To any human soul
Nor any tree
Animal
Rock
Stream
or Sea

Bind him so that he shall not break our polity
Usurp our liberty
Or fill our minds with hate, confusion, fear, or despair
And bind, too,
All those who enable his wickedness
And those whose mouths speak his poisonous lies

I beseech thee, spirits, bind all of them
As with chains of iron
Bind their malicious tongues
Strike down their towers of vanity
(Invert Tower tarot card)

I beseech thee in my name
(Say your full name)
In the name of all who walk Crawl, swim, or fly
Of all the trees, the forests,
Streams, deserts,
Rivers and seas
In the name of Justice
And Liberty
And Love
And Equality
And Peace
Bind them in chains
Bind their tongues
Bind their works
Bind their wickedness
(Light the small photo of Trump from the flame of the orange candle stub and hold carefully above the ashtray)

(Speak the following loudly and with increasing passion as the photo burns to ashes)
So mote it be!
So mote it be!
So mote it be!

(Blow out orange candle, visualizing Trump blowing apart into dust or ash*)

(Pinch or snuff out the white candle, ending the ritual)

Grounding and Disposal

Afterward, ground yourself by having a good, hearty laugh, jumping up and down, clapping your hands, stomping your feet, and having a bite to eat. Grounding is very important—don’t neglect it. And remember—he hates people laughing at him. Finally, bury the orange candle stub or discard it at a crossroads or in running water.

VARIANTS

Alternate Closing: After you’ve visualized Trump’s energy dissipating, gaze at the white candle flame for a few moments, close your eyes, and imagine a bright light emerging from the darkness and gradually being revealed as the flaming torch of the Statue of Liberty. The light from the torch then brightens intensely, expanding into infinity and burning away all darkness. After a few moments, open your eyes, ground yourself, and pinch or snuff out the white candle, closing the ritual. You can also leave it burning until it is fully extinguished.

Traditional Binding Variant: This variant was contributed by a rootworker, and incorporates a more traditional form of binding magic. In place of burning the photo, the magician ties the photo to the orange candle with black thread. As you are wrapping the thread around the photo and candle, say “I bind you” three times. You may also tie knots in the thread. Then the whole package is buried or, as the contributor suggested, “Leave it outside a Trump hotel.”

The Use-His-Pet-Phrase-Against-Him Variant: In place of “So mote it be,” instead say, “You’re fired!” with increasing vehemence. This should be particularly beautiful as the flames consume his image.

Baby Carrot Substitution: For those who can’t acquire an orange candle stub, Frater SHUF suggests using a baby carrot (and lighting the photo from the white candle).

Waning Crescent Moon Ritual Dates: February 24th (Midnight, Friday evening); March 26th; April 24th; May 23rd; June 21st (especially important as it is the summer solstice); July 21st; August 19th; etc.

#bindtrump
#magicresistance
#feb24

Wednesday, February 22, 2017

Sealing the directions using IAO (reblogged from Nick Farrell)

Nick Farrell wrote: For a while I wondered why in the Sepher Yetzirah it refers to God by the name יהו instead of the more traditional tetragrammaton. This might be because the writer was using the name in Greek IAΩ. This name was the name given to the Tetragrammaton in the Greek translation of the Old Testament but was also a name given to Jupiter and was a mystical cry in the mystery rites. IAΩ was the letters of the sun, moon and Saturn in Greece, but it was also the first, middle and last letters of the alphabet. Translating it back into the original Greek it starts to make sense in that context.

He looked forward and sealed the East, with A I Ω.
He looked to the right and sealed the South, with Ω I A.
He looked behind and sealed the West, with Ω A I.
He looked to the left and sealed the north with A Ω I.
He looked below and sealed the deep, with I Ω A.
He looked above and sealed the height, with I A Ω.

Read the rest of the post "WMT (Western Mystery Tradition) Kabbalah is no longer my personal magical system's backbone" at http://www.nickfarrell.it/kabbalah-and-me/

Monday, February 20, 2017

Bind Trump bizarre ritual (Why the spike?)

Overnight, this video (my July 4th 2016 video) had a spike in views overnight. And I have no idea why...beyond the fact that I have heard that there might be a serious "bind Trump" global witchcraft ritual happening later this week. So call out all your fanatic Trump fans to make a protective wall around Donald "Jesus" Trump, the most bestest President that the United States has ever had.


Sunday, February 19, 2017

Demon in charge of the universe (Death to the Great Gherkin)

Your average well-educated modern person ignores the world of the occult. This is probably for the best, for people who examine the world of the occult too closely sometimes start to notice the cracks in the foundation of the universe. These are not small cracks—no, they are the sort of cracks that tell you that there is a plan and purpose to the universe, but the shipping department of reality shows all the signs of being as efficient as your average overly endowed and underfunded governmental agency. Sure, there is someone in charge, but it is definitely not the figurehead that is placed upfront to take all the blame when things go wrong. The entity who is really in charge of the universe is very careful never to allow their name to be associated with any title that rhymes with “god.” And this entity is not only hidden, unreachable, petty, and maybe a little bit power drunk, they also fancy themselves as having a brutal sense of humor. And it is true, their sense of humor is brutal—it is just not generally understood by those who do not have a thousand consecutive years of magic, mediation and mysticism under their belts. This results in the universe occasionally working exactly as the controlling entity wants it to while the end consumer is busy calling for the replacement of the fictional figurehead because they have completely missed the punchline of the latest joke to manifest out of the universal bureaucracy. It is much better for the universe to be seen as a chaotic random series of events than to have the average person suddenly have the horrific realization that the purpose of the universe it to create the mental agony and confusion that can found at any Department of Motor Vehicles. After all, such a realization is how you get mystics who insist that the universe is just meaningless suffering created by a demon, and that the only way to cope is to get seriously drunk.

For those who can’t be bothered to read the previous paragraph, not alone understand it: The universe is supposed to feel like hell because it amuses the Sneakiest Bastard to make it so.

Saturday, February 18, 2017

Should liberal journalists be burned at the stake? Hardcore Trump supporters say yes!

Congratulations America for making it to week four of Trump's first term as President. Yes, that is right--it has only been four weeks. And in that time, President Trump has not been allowed to do a damn thing without the liberal media misrepresenting what he is doing.

So to recap, Trump and his supporters have no problem with taking away the visa and Green cards of Muslims from seven countries, even if they have been living in this country for a decade because "All Muslims are terrorists"; Trump has picked the very best people, who have no flaws, and have no desire to incite racism nor enrich themselves at the taxpayers' expense; the Republicans are ready to get rid of Obamacare and make sure that everyone gets the healthcare that they deserve; other countries are a bunch of assholes, except for Russia, who we love and who would never dream of rigging the system to get a puppet President; the voters still do not care about Trump's tax returns, nor the hydra-like tentacles of his business interests affecting his policies, nor the policies of his officials and representatives; consumers are eagerly buying Trump products because they are the best, and Trump's policies are the best; we must get rid of all immigrants who just take away jobs and only commit crimes--remember that there are no good immigrants--all immigrants are bad; we must do away with the EPA with its horrible regulations; we need to get rid of all references to the false science that says global warming and pollution is a real thing; we must close the borders to overseas products; only students with rich parents deserve to be educated; and everything is still the fault of those dirty liberal traitors led by Hillary Clinton and ex-President Obama, who are still conspiring to overthrow the bestest President ever.

And all this is true, despite any reports that you hear from the media, who are the true enemy of the American people.

Why is the media treating me like I am a third grader with nuclear weapons--nuclear weapons are the best.
Yes, I suffer from Trump rage. My wife is an ESL teacher (oh how we need to make sure that she never works in education ever again--who the fuck thinks it is a good idea to teach the children of immigrants?!?), and I am slimy person who once considered a career as a journalist, plus we are not good Christians--oh my god, we need to be burned at the stake for our unAmerican beliefs.

Of course, as a journalist "wanna-be" (I wanted to be a newspaper columnist, a funny one like Emma Bombeck; but I would have settled for writing political commentary), I keep feeling insulted by the way that President Trump is treating journalists. 

And I have noticed a pattern. Every time a journalist reports something negative about Trump, his policies, and the bestest people in the his government, Trump screams that "Those journalists are FAKE NEWS. So sad that they believe that I am the devil. I am here to led America into a new golden age where everyone glows in the dark. Nuclear weapons are good, but you can also do bad things with uranium. Sad."

It was really hard to watch his first solo press conference, given that he insulted members of the media at least thirty times (I lost count after thirty). Of course, it got even better when he sent out the bestest survey ever!

Do you believe that the lying media should be fined, tossed in jail, and burned at the stake? If you voted for me, of course you do. You are the bestest supporters a tyrant can have.
It was a very rigged survey, guaranteed to prove that Trump can take any steps he needs to put the free press in its proper place--kissing his butt and telling him that he is the greatest while ignoring any threats to the Constitution and possible harm to anyone who is not a rich white guy.

And when I interacted with his hardcore supporters, I realized that the only part of the Bill of Rights they support is the right to have handguns. The other nine parts can be flushed down the toilet, along with the rest of the Constitution, because dirty liberals keep acting as if it (and not those good conservative values that say only rich people have rights), the Constitution, is supposed to be the guiding principle for the laws and government of the United States of America.

I honestly think that his supporters believe that every journalist, every comedian, and everyone in the country, that criticizes Trump should serve jail time, or worse. By their standards, journalists should have never broken the news on Watergate, and should only criticize Democrats and other filthy liberals. (Yes, that is right--I just compared Donald Trump to Richard Nixon--guess which one I like better--the answer will surprise you!)

And oh, how I should not worry about what Trump was going to do because it was Obama that it is responsible for any crackdown on journalism that happens. All hail Trump--who can do no wrong!

(For the record, George Bush and Obama went after leaks that threaten intelligence and military assets--not every journalist that ever said, WTF?!?)


Trump does the bestest tweets, full of love for the principles of democracy...well, except for all those parts about a free press and common human decency.
In journalism classes (yes, I took some--I must be burned at the stake), I was taught that journalists were the watchdogs of society, that journalists served a purpose of keeping politicians honest, sometimes even forcing them to act as if they cared for stuff other than their wallets. We are not supposed to be liked by politicians; after all, we have to expose all the slimy things that politicians try to get away with.

And despite what hardcore Trump supporters think, if Hillary Clinton would have won and started doing half the crap Trump has, we would be howling for her head. But no, the media needs to be put in its proper place because we just hate good conservative values rooted in the only religious document that counts--the Bible--which completely says that witches, and liberal Trump hating journalists must be witches, need to be burned at the stake as a message to the rest of the rabble that the Holy Tyrant Donald "Jesus" Trump can do whatever he needs to to put those dirty filthy poor people in their proper place, enriching the wealthy.

But never fear Trump supporters, Trump still has another 208 weeks to get rid of all the immigrants, void those silly government regulations that harm big business, make a law to allow the imprisonment of journalists who say bad things about him, make it legal to kill all those people who do not believe in the same religious document as you do, and bring back tons of good paying dime an hour jobs. And after that, in 209 weeks, he gets to start his second term; and then in 416 weeks, he becomes President-for-life because you are going to change the Constitution to allow him to do so; and then when he dies, one of his relatives will become our next king. Oh look at how wonderful America's future is--look at all the happy rich people--try not to step on the sick and dying poor people.

Hail Trump! Or Hydra! They seem to be the same.
Oh wait, I am not a journalist wanna-be--I must be a FAKE NEWS journalist because I am saying mean things about your lord and savior, the bestest President ever--better report me to the authorities, so that I am silenced once and for all. All hail Trump!

Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Friday, February 10, 2017

Five things that you might find in your guru’s trunk (Death to the Great Gherkin)

One of the more telling pieces of evidence that your guru, spiritual teacher, Chief Adept, Mother Witch, Supreme Shaman, or whatever term that you call them, might be a murdering bitch or bastard is the stuff that keep in their car trunk (or boot as those initiates across the pond refer to it).

 Now as previously mentioned, or maybe not, for the author is typing this story up completely out of order, chances are that your guru is innocent and has absolutely no desire to kill the Great Gherkin. Like the Great Gherkin’s least favorite critic has no real desire to murderize the Great Gherkin; after all, if he did that, he would lose one of his long standing jokes on his blog. For the critic pounding out one in the morning rage tweets and blogs, it is counter-productive to knock off the Great Gherkin. And as a completely innocent bystander, despite his apparent loathing for the Great Gherkin, one should not judge the rather sharp ax that the critic has in his car trunk as anything more than a handy tool that serves a humble purpose, just like the ten pound bag of cat litter (non-chumping), the dozen roman candles (as long as you don’t light them in Colorado, they are completely legal), several large bones (probably from a cow, or maybe a goat—it is hard to tell with such things), and the large plastic tarp. All these items have completely innocent purposes, and in no way should imply that the Great Gherkin least favorite critic might be a potential serial ax murderer who lights up the night’s sky with fireworks to celebrate his latest hatching.

Likewise, the fact that one of the Great Gherkin’s greatest buds, the Amazing Kitchen Sink, has five guns (a Luger, a sawed-off shotgun, a M16, a Colt 45, and what looks suspiciously like a fully automatic machine gun), five boxes of assorted ammo, five weeks of survival rations, five blocks of C4, and his five favorite porn magazines in his trunk, in no way should be used to argue that the Amazing Kitchen Sink is just a Waco waiting to happen, not alone arguing that he might be the guilty party that wants to see the Great Gherkin riddled with bullet holes. After all, there are completely reasonable explanations for these items, including being a doomsday prepper who suspects that the President of the United States is going to start a global nuclear war (probably by nuking Chicago to keep its murderers from escaping justice), long weekend hunting trips searching for heavily armed terrorist dragons, and collecting on million dollar debts.

A far more suspicious car trunk belongs to the ceremonial magic gurus, Kitty and Chuck Agrippa. In it, you will find a bag of cat food, several Tarot decks, a spare tire, some road flares, and a battered copy of Thelema and the Necronomicon, all of which points to their fleecing of little old ladies of all their money before forcing them to eat cat food and rolling them downhill while the little old ladies hold lit road flares, and the evil magical couple recite dark prayers to their dreaded dark lord, Cthulhu. We know that this is totally and completely true because the Great Gherkin himself, using the internet handle trollking93, revealed the Agrippa’s crimes to the world one wet and stormy August night, along with the fact that the entirety of the Agrippa’s lodge membership were paid CIA Freemasons trying to destroy his own esteemed Order—after all, if you can’t trust the Great Gherkin, who can you trust? In fact, the lying and perverted Agrippas are probably the ones that hired an assassin to whack the Great Gherkin—and if not, at the very least, they fully support the endeavor.

Another likely miscreant is the sock puppet known as Sister Seuss, who keeps in her trunk, some technical manuals, a bong, a couple of old coats, a copy of The Numpty Hater Grimoire, and some freeze dried bacon. All of these items are suspicious and point to a diseased mind, and are especially worrisome given that her real identity, Falcon Wilde, also has a trunk filled with awful things: some barb wire, some loose hay, a battered saddle, a broken laptop, and a buck fifty in Canadian quarters. One must agree that both the pseudonym, as well as the actual flesh and blood person, are both completely out of their numpty hating minds, as well as likely suspects for wanting to see the Great Gherkin thrown out of an airplane without a parachute, thanks to the items that he…she…it keeps in their two trunks.

And before we leave this subject, a subject that one must be fully aware of, if one wants to avoid bad gurus and the evil machinations of your own grandmother (we have seen the contents of her car trunk—she is completely evil), let’s take a look at the car trunks of two of the most famous Big Name Occultists to ever live—Buddha Night and the Living Devil. Buddha Night, the fabulous warlock of Arkham and entertaining late night talk show guest, has several dildos (but no lube), some motor oil (oh, there is lube), a jade thing-a-bob, some press releases, and a thousand autographed headshots—all of which is suspicious and just slightly weird. His partner in crime, the most famous black magician of all, the Living Devil has several plastic tarps painted with nonsensical names and symbols, a fake human skeleton, a map of the great state of Nevada (which is worrisome, given that he lives in Texas), a couple of gallons of Kool-Aid (in his kid’s favorite flavor), and absolutely no drugs—all of which deserve a whispered call to the FBI and Homeland Security.

Wednesday, February 8, 2017

Meet the Great Gherkin (from a work-in-progress)

For those who do not know the Great Gherkin, we will now take a moment to tell you how wonderful, skilled and learned the man is. Or rather we will allow the Great Gherkin to serenade you with tales of his awesomeness, along with amble dollops of praise that he receives from other members of the esoteric community.

 “As the owner of the largest occult forum ever, the most subscribed occult newsletter,” the Great Gherkin proclaims, “and the Chief Adept and Supreme Wizard of the most advanced esoteric Order ever, I am humbled to be thrust into the spotlight as the guiding star for modern occultism. Thanks to all my fans and Order members who asked me, nay, begged me, to take a wider role in guiding the world into a new golden age.”

“Wait, doesn’t Wankers Are Us have less members than Dead Dog On The Road discussion group?” asked Sister Seuss, Numpty Hater Extraordinaire and children book writer. “And can we take this to a vote?” asked the Great Gherkin’s least favorite critic. “One of my cats left something in the litter box that I would rather have represent me than your weaselness.”

“This new golden age—what exactly does that entail?” Falcon Wilde asked. “Perhaps more caring about our fellow humans and the world.”

“Dead Dog On The Road is not really an occult discussion group,” the Great Gherkin replied back. “After all, the moderators say that the only topics allowed are from a handful of occult books. They frown on discussions about Uncle Al, who by the way, I am much more popular than. And they completely refuse to allow discussions about politics, governmental conspiracies, and how big business is enslaving and poisoning the entire planet. How can you consider them a real occult discussion group, given this grievous and blatant disregard for the greater occult community?”

 “Because they actually discuss the occult, unlike your maggot infested discussion group,” Sister Seuss replied. “Well, your opinion does not count, for you are…a sock puppet! Yes, you are a sock puppet of…Falcon Wilde, who has always hated me as anyone who has read his book review of my Magus Opus knows.”

“I gave your book an one star review because The Nile* doesn’t allow a rating of zero or less. Given a free hand, I would have given your Shitgibbon Opus a negative five stars. Your book was a black hole of material you copied from other people.”

“It is still better than anything you have published though Loony Luna, who refused to publish my book because it was too ground breaking, too cutting edge for the simpletons who buy their books from Loony Luna—it would have melted their brains with the awesomeness of my superior knowledge.”

“You mean your superior knowledge of photocopying?”

“Why you little horse f—”

“Hey, can we get back to the important part of the discussion here,” asked the angry and constantly lying critic. “Who were these people who asked you, nay, begged you, to be our fearless leader? I have asked around and I can’t find a single one of these people. In fact, you seem as popular as a hot latte enema.”

“That’s because you were asking the clumps in the cat box…”

[*Did you know that certain ebook retailers will not allow you to mention their competition by name, if you want to list your book on their platform? That’s why I have to refer to the biggest pimp of ebooks as “The Nile.” If I don’t, the great cult of the Apricot won’t allow me to sell you this excellent book through their system.]

Saturday, February 4, 2017

My latest death threat (and my beta reader thought I was kidding)

(The first thing that greeted me this morning on Facebook was a death threat.)

Matt Brenski wrote:

The golden dawn is a secret society please stop writing about it our else hardship will come on you. Not magically or astrally I will come there and beat the shit out of you. That is because I love this work and the order which I don't see you as a member of.
Theese mystories are sacreed and with my last breath I will defend them,
Do not share these mysteries with anyone.
That oath is golden, and by the way, your writing sucks
You have not been initiated into these mysteries so you shouldn't reveal then, or from my position can not reveal them
Anyone who has been wouldn't but if you insist you will get a beating
No one initiated into these sacred mysteries would reveal them
That is why you are getting your beating so stop writing about the golden dawn
feel free to contact me but do not write about the golden dawn
No initiate wiuld write about the golden dawn, so stop asshole, or I will make you stop.


Matt Brenski loves Golden Dawn so much that he will rain violence on those who write about it.
[And one of my beta readers thought I was kidding when I said that most, if not all, occult leaders, teachers, and writers, have received a death threat at one time or another. This is why I don't give pity to some loud mouths who publicly scream that they are special because they get death threats. If I get death threats, I assume that everyone is getting death threats. If I am not special (as some of these "oh, I have been threatened" leaders have declared more than once), then either are they. This is not the first threat I have received and it won't be the last. As for raining violence on me, violence hasn't stopped me before, so why would it stop me this time? Nothing short of a bullet in my face is going to shut me up.]

{Oh, by the way, out there some place is a Golden Dawn leader who is really proud that Matt Brenski is a card carrying member of their tradition--if not, their Order--I know that certain dubious leaders have encouraged violence against other GD authorities.]

{[And Matt Brenski, bite me.]}

{[(And I bet that his favorite Golden Dawn leader believes that President Donald "Jesus" Trump is the best thing to ever happen to America.)]}

Wednesday, February 1, 2017

Aces wild (the life of a writer in Ace form)

Previous/ Master List/ Next 

Welcome to the 41st Tarot Blog Hop. Yes, that is right--this is the first Tarot Blog Hop of year six. The very first Tarot Blog Hop happened way back in Imbolc 2012, oh how times flies. Over the course of the last five years, every six weeks Tarot bloggers have came together and opened up their brain boxes to talk about various Tarot topics.

To start off our sixth year, our fearless leader and cat wrangler, Arwen, asked us to consider "How can I best foster the energy of the Aces in my life?" She also noted that "Aces are the beginning of the suits as seeds are the beginning of the plant."

Oh, I struggled with this one. I put it off, and then put it off some more. A lot of household cleaning got done--because as a writer and house husband, housekeeping happens when I am blocked as a writer and writing happens when I am in no mood to clean.

I still have no brilliant ideas for this one, so let me describe my life as a writer and how the suits (which grow out of the Aces) manifest in my profession during the production of a book. Yes, I know that is god awful boring, but I really have no other idea of what to do.

(The only people who find the life of writers interesting are other writers. Sure, there are some writers who have wild adventures, but the actual writing part of their lives is god awful boring for the most part. Why should my writing life be any different?)

[I really should point out that I am talking about "creative writers/novelists" and "occult/esoteric writers" in this post--not technical writers, not public relations, not script writers, etc.--this is important to keep in mind, especially when I am talking about the monetary aspects of my profession--I don't belong to a well-paid branch of the profession.]

Passion is not everything.
"Oh, you are so lucky to do something that you are passionate about for a living," says the person who believes that writing is easy, that writers attend lots of parties, and go out having interesting adventures; they also believe that all writers are making big sacks of money while only working on projects that are enjoyable. I blame movies, television, the myth making department of publishing houses, and news-media for this person's beliefs. Basically, you only hear about interesting writers who made boatloads of money--the J.K. Rowlings and Stephen Kings--and those celebrities who wrote books (in all likelihood, the celebrity talked to a ghost writer for a few hours, and the ghost writer did all the actual tedious writing). You never hear of the average writer who would probably be better off earning money flipping burgers.

[Official government figures on income and such for writers is extremely misleading, for it does not actually account for all the writers who support themselves doing other types of work. The official government figures are only for success stories, and ignore most of the less-than-stellar writers who are working day jobs (they get counted as their day job). Either that or my web monkey skills are not clever enough to figure out the right combination of keywords. For real numbers, one has to rely on independent studies like Author Earnings.]

Now, it may seem strange that I am associating "profit and income" to the Ace of Wands, along with passion. But considering whether a project might be profitable or not comes at the start of the process and not the end. 

Whether you are a writer or a publisher, the first thing you have to decide is what genres and niches you are going to produce work in. Now, publishers (like banks) are always profit oriented--after all, the entire structure of traditional publishing is that best sellers support the entire structure. Writers, on the other hand, can choose passion over potential profit.

In my case, as a writer, I have split the difference. A certain amount of my work is aimed at profit, and is typically published (or sold) under secret pen-names. Then comes the "it might make money" stuff provided that it finds the right audience. And on the tail end are projects that will never justify the amount of effort it would require to see them though to completion.

In general, if you want to make money as a novelist, you go for romance, mystery and action, sci-fi, and other genres will lots of potential customers.

What you don't do is decide to focus on a niche of a niche of a niche. Not that common sense ever applies to my actions. In my case, I had a publisher once consider some of the books I wanted to write for the occult market--the projects went nowhere because I was told that at best, I could hope for a hundred customers.

And that was not even taking into account that piracy would have on my potential audience and customer base. One of the harsh bits of reality is that the occult market is really small, and a simple act of piracy can completely empty it before you sell a second copy of your book. The insult to injury, in my opinion, is that many occult book pirates believe that occult writers owe society free occult books and that it is the duty of occult writers to write for free (never charging for even a single copy) because access to esoteric knowledge improves society.

[Got an opinion about whether or not occult writers and artists should be paid? Denver Witch Quarterly is looking for submissions on that topic, as well as the usual mix of stuff.]

If I had to survive on passion projects alone, I would be in trouble. No, I survive on pure stubbornness, screaming that the universe will obey my command to make me a famous writer, even if I have to beat it with a stick.

Having the idea is not the hard part.
There are people who believe that having a good idea is the hardest part of being a writer. These are the type of people that walk up to you at a party and say, "I have an idea for a book. Tell you what. You write the book, and we will split the profit 50/50." I might have made a promise to myself that I am going to punch the next person to say such to me.

Honestly, I have no shortage of ideas. My cup flows over in the idea department. The idea factory could shut down right now, and I would still have enough ideas stockpiled to keep me busy for a century. (Yes, there is an idea factory, and you can get a big monthly box full of ideas from them for the low, low cost of being willing to be at the keyboard until your fingers start to bleed.)

Now whether or not, they are good ideas that I am passionate about, or think will make money, is a higher decision, just like my ability to execute them is a lower matter. But overall, I am most comfortable in the waterly world of idea generation. 

99.9999999999% of the writing process is pain.
If one has decided that being a novelist (or an occult writer) is a good idea, you spend a lot of time working with the Air stage of the writing process. There are rough drafts, editing, chopping, cutting, adding, remixing, formatting, beta readers, research, yada yada dippity do.

Here is where you deal with your writer's block (the quickest way to develop writer's block is to allow perfectionism to run amok). And what educated writing looks like. And whether that really entertaining sentence needs to be dragged out and buried. And what is the ideal length for what you are writing.

And at some point (when I was in the world of passion and potential profit), I decided that I would rather spend 24/7/365 in this self-made hell than flipping burgers...because I am happier doing this than anything else I ever tried my hand at.

And this whole bloody process doesn't end until you finally scream, "Good enough for government work." It is only when you hit publish that this tedious process ends. 

[Note that if you are aiming to be published by traditional legacy publishing, you have to survive all three elemental steps again that you have already dealt with. And there is a definite chance that you are going to have to go the entire process of writing and editing your book all over again based on what a publisher believes will sell.]

Getting eyeballs and bookshelf space is like selling burgers. Or farming. Or playing the stock market.
Now, bear in mind that none of this is an exact science. But if I have managed to get though all the previous stages, and finally have a project finished, then and only then can the Earth stage happen. Quite simply to have any hope of making money as a writer, you have to have a product to sell.

So now I have to deal with the uploading, advertising, sales copy, marketing, begging that comes with actually moving copies. And it is as hard as digging ditches for a living--at least in my case (I did not inherit my father's ability to sell stuff), especially if you are asking people to pay you good money for your work.

(If you are willing to write for free, you will never run out of stuff to write. But don't expect "free" to become "paid." If you want to earn money writing, you have to draw a line and say, "I write for money." It doesn't stop you from doing projects that you are passionate about, but it helps you to avoid never having a project that might make some money. At some point, you need a product that you can slap a price tag on.)

If I allow myself, I can remain in the previous three stages forever, especially if I am not on bipolar meds. I literally cycle though the other three stages constantly and never finish a damn thing. During really rough times, I will spend a day on a project, abandon it, and never come back to it, or any other project for that matter. I have thousands of unfinished projects.

I second guess myself a lot. This is partially because of upbringing, and partially because I (erroneously) believe that I should be making significant money right out of the gate. At the moment, I am still struggling with my inner demons. Other people get to have cool spiritual adventures, visions, and unicorns--I get inner voices saying "That will never make money," and "What would your poor mother think," and "Other writers would be far more suitable to work with this idea."

It is no wonder that so much housework got done before I started working on this post. I am still processing a heap-load of internal trash that says that I am unworthy of being a success as a writer. And this bloody blog post just brings it all up to the surface. How can I best foster the energies of the Aces? Hell if I know.

There are some tricks I have learned. Most of which involve deadlines and saying "fuck it--it's done."

My current favorite story of hacking my way though the four stages of writing comes from last year: a writer/publisher friend of mine (who I have never met at a party, despite living in the same state) decided to do an anthology of short horror stories by actual working magicians. First, I debated whether I was really a working magician. Then I had this perfect plan in my mind for the story. Followed by a case of really fine writer's block. With the deadline breathing down my neck, I hacked out a story that did not include several scenes that I originally planned and was shorter than I originally intended it to be. Then after it was completed, I thought about not submitting it because I mentioned politics in the story and because my friend was going to get far better stories than this one. In the end, I submitted it because it was done, and I am stubborn.

(It was actually accepted--the anthology Into the Abyss can be brought on Amazon.

And honestly, it is  probably one of my better short stories. But boy did I struggle with my inner demons while completing it. I am not sure if this is the best way to foster the energies of the Aces, but it is the only way I know how.

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