This is just a reminder… This blog will be going away very shortly (hence, why no new posts in a while). For all my news, excerpts, and more on my writing, please visit my new blog at http://esthermitchell.wordpress.com
And for those interested in the paranormal/metaphysical side of things (news, lecture schedules, deals, and tidbits), please visit Wildflower Parapsychology & Metaphysics’ new blog at http://wildflowerpara.wordpress.com
Thanks! See you on the dark side!
Esther Mitchell
I know I’ve blogged before about Project Prometheus and its inspirations in mythology. But I thought I’d touch on where it departs from history and mythology, today.
I know there are historical scholars out there who’d debate the history and mythology of ancient Mesopotamia with some of the details in IN HER NAME. I’ve never claimed that I was writing historical fiction. I know the history of Sargon written in books, and I also know the mythology of the area, as is written in books. Thing is, I’m also aware of something many historians – whether through choice or the nature of things – forget: We don’t know everything about history.
There is an age-old adage which says “history is written by the victor.” In the case of ancient Mesopotamia, there’s not a whole lot written at all. Even today, there are discoveries constantly being unearthed in the Middle East and North Africa which change how we view different eras of the ancient world. IN HER NAME was written to take up the areas where history and mythology are vague, where what is and what could have been meet.
History tells us Sargon I of Akkad was the first great king of Mesopotamia. Mythology tells us of Ishtar’s adoption of a young man who later rose to become a great king through Her tutelage.
History tells us that Ashuribanipal degenerated from a decent king, in his youth, to a depraved and dangerous man in his later years. Mythology tells us of the epic struggle between Ishtar and Ereshkigal, and of demons that feed on souls and inhabit the bodies of their victims.
History tells us that every culture on the planet has tales of sunken cities and great floods. Mythology (and Homer) tell us that Atlantis was once the center of the ancient world, but not where or how.
Through IN HER NAME, I sought to bring these two areas of the same world together, to tell the story that fills in the gaps between segments of history and the rich tradition of mythology – to explore the possibilities that these events might all be part of a cosmic struggle between forces beyond the scope of human history to quantify. The purpose of this? Simply, I wanted to show the world that there are undercurrents to every action that are capable of rippling acros the pages of time.
So was born the story that became the genesis of Project Prometheus, IN HER NAME. Originally, it was meant to be a stand-alone novel – a response to the fear, paranoia, and terror that marked one of the darkest days in American history. But, as the story grew, those ripples became evident, and spread outward, encompassing more stories – more tales spun from where history and mythology met, and a new world was born.
So, I just got back from a trip home to the East Coast, and with every day that passes, I’m more convinced I should never have come back.
You see, I’m a small-town kind of girl. I grew up in the world’s back yard, a military brat with all of Europe to explore. And I loved it. But I was never one for the tourist traps or large cities. Give me a small, rural town full of color and character – someplace that still radiates the true history of a nation. For all the years I lived in Europe, I was surrounded by small towns and rural stretches of field and forest, and I loved it all.
When I moved back to the US in the late 90s, my first stop was a small town in rural Pennsylvania. Sure, I had my problems with the town, but that was mostly in the narrow-mindedness of some of its inhabitants. But I loved the area, with its open fields, forests, and streams. There’s just something so pure and whole about nature as seen in small towns.
Several years ago, I got married, and moved from rural PA to urban Arizona. It’s been a daily struggle for me, here, to adapt to the lack of forests, the lack of grass, and more than that, the lack of everything I call home. Big cities are far from where I belong. Too full of noise and bustle, and everyone running around but going nowhere. My health’s declined since moving into this environment, and I long for the forests and fields – for the nature I left behind when I came here.
Since my recent visit back East, I’ve decided that’s where I belong. It may take me a few years to get there, but like Dorothy in Oz, I’m heading home the first chance I get.
