Behind the Veil: The Spark
Evening is when the world loosens its grip on me.
The house settles into its own quiet rhythm, everyone in their own space, and I slip into mine. A stick of incense breathes its slow spiral into the air, soft music hums low, and a hot cup of herbal tea warms my hands. Shadow, my sweet cat, claims her post, sometimes curled at my feet, sometimes in her chair, watching me with that knowing gaze.
I sit at the dark mahogany desk my husband built for me, a piece that sings to my traditional side, though the room around it hums with the pulse of the present. Multiple screens glow, printers wait, and my AI companions, Computer and Grimoire, stand ready to fetch me the latest music, unearth forgotten histories, or answer the questions that keep my mind alight.
Ideas arrive in many ways.
Sometimes in the middle of a conversation with my husband, a single phrase will catch like a spark on dry tinder. Other times it’s a flash of an image, a memory that stirs, or a dream that lingers past dawn. I keep a small book in my purse for these moments, quick sketches, half-formed sentences, symbols that might one day become something more.
When the spark comes, it’s electric.
But I don’t rush it. I let it sit, turning it over in my mind like a stone in my palm. I revisit it again and again, letting it grow, letting it breathe, until I can almost see the finished piece in my mind’s eye. I know it’s ready when it flows without resistance, when every part of it simply makes sense.
My journal (really, a binder) is my map through this process.
The first section is a raw list of ideas, unpolished and unfiltered. The next holds the ones I’m actively shaping, pages filled with scribbles, notations, and images that feed the vision. Then come the drafts, the working bones of the piece, with notes on what to keep, what to change. The final section is the resting place for completed creations, ready to step into the world.
Lately, my palette leans toward purples and creams, with blues and greens whispering at the edges. I’m drawn to the romance of the Victorian aesthetic — lace, candlelight, pressed flowers but I’m equally enchanted by the shadowed beauty of the grim: skeletons, snakes, swords, and the glint of blood.
Through it all, one truth remains: I am here to teach.
To mentor the new and the seasoned alike. Because every time I guide someone else through their own creative spark, I find myself learning too. The circle turns, and the work deepens.
This is where it all begins, in the quiet, with tea and incense, Shadow at my feet, and a single spark that might just become the next chapter in the Jenna Moon world.