Today’s guest post is brought to you by Monique Snyman, author of the Charming Incantations series.
INSIDE THE MIND OF MONIQUE SNYMAN: IT’S A KIND OF MAGIC
As a writer, I’ve learned to live with my outlandish imagination where fairies play in the bottom of the garden, where ghosts haunt graveyards at night, and where monsters live underneath your bed. I’ve become accustomed to the idea that I really wouldn’t mind an alien invasion or a zombie apocalypse and I’ve embraced the possibility that humans have become oblivious to the magic that surrounds them.
What if we really weren’t alone in the world? What if humans co-existed with supernatural creatures without even realising it?
Personally, I don’t think it’s such a farfetched theory. Statistically, humans have explored less than 5% of the oceans; there are far too many unexplored caves all around the world, not to mention that space is a really big, mysterious place that’s still pretty much uncharted territory.
But if we take a closer look at our own lives, how many of us even know who our neighbours are? How do you know that the guy downstairs – you know the one that’s always playing his music so loudly, you can’t even hear yourself think – isn’t a werewolf? How do you know that the woman who lives next door to you – the one that you only see at night – isn’t really a vampire? How do you know there isn’t a supernatural war going on right this second?
I’ve always been deemed a little weird, so I don’t feel bad about saying that I believe it’s possible…
Other examples, which make the theory of ‘not being alone’ more plausible, are found in the written and oral histories from different cultures around the world. The legend of bloodsucking creatures – commonly referred to as vampires – have existed for millennia. From ancient Mesopotamia, Greece, Rome and India, tales of these demonic entities exist to excite and entertain audiences. Werewolves go back to the story of Romulus and Remus, founders of Rome, who were suckled by a she-wolf that found the babies stranded on a riverbank. Even in Africa, tales of shape shifters are common in oral histories that have been passed down from around that same time.
So, why don’t we believe anymore? Why are these stories simply classified as being mythology?
I think it’s because people don’t want to believe in things they can’t see or touch anymore. They don’t want to take your word for it. People want to have the facts, wrapped up in a pretty bow by scientists, but as every author in the world will tell you, explaining magic is not simple. You can describe magic, yes, but you can’t explain the way it works or why it exists. You just know it’s there.
Mythology is magic and magic is mythology. It’s an on-going circle that moves through time, and it grows all the while, leaving us with more questions than answers.
Magic is magic.
These creatures, who we have all brushed aside as being stories, legends, omens and fairy-tales, they are magic. And who doesn’t want a bit of magic in their lives? Who doesn’t want a werewolf for a downstairs neighbour (I mean, come on, you’d have the best guard dog in the world)? Who doesn’t want a vampire living next door to you (you’ll never have to worry about blood clots, right)? Who wouldn’t enjoy the thrill of fighting in a supernatural war, where the only thing that makes sense is what’s right and wrong?
As a writer, I’ve learned to live with an outlandish imagination where everything is possible, but as a human being, I’ve always believed there are things we’ll never be able to explain as being anything other than magic.