The Libertine
So this will be my first post on my blog. I've been procrastinating too long, and this is the right time to start, given my extra bout of energy. Work while high, yeah? Haha, no, that's just a stupid joke. Sorry about that. Anyhoo, I am going to write something I wrote a couple of days ago in my little notebook. It's "raw"; in my books, that just means it's a rough draft. Other than being an amateur writer I'm also a sketcher, and I like to think that the rawer something is the better. So think of this piece as a rough sketch in the form of words. (Note: This is purely fictional and doesn't depict any real or famous character, nor is it in any specific time period. Interestingly, I was inspired to write this after reading some background on Giacomo Casanova.)
As I laid in the comfort of my own bed and read the titillating pieces of this woman's escapades, my mind began to race around the edges of a territory almost forgotten: the connections between our religions and our behavior. Anabel Watters exercised her femininity through her sexual freedom and grace. She was not thrown in jail; she was not stoned or executed; rather, she was ignored and overlooked. Yes, many looked down at her; others scolded her; and the rest of her opponents even threw around disturbing, defamatory gossip on the streets about her. Her family may have cast her aside, but her friends were themselves advocates of her "liberties". Reading about her life, I concluded that, though religion was an influence over society, religion did not always speak for its nation. As it turned out, it was more scandalous for people to know your sexual history than your sexual nature. (Prostitutes legally existed and no one in Anabel's time period ignored that; but if word broke out that you ever slept with one or more, your reputation was on the line.) Given the gossip that floated around, unless one could prove Anabel Watters slept with "three hundred" men, there was nothing that could be done about her behavior.
Her relations were subtle: her quiet midnight rides to Mr. Parker's; her late-night disappearances from the local pub; and sometimes, a man would be seen standing outside her door with a tip of his hat, a few gracious words, and a turn of his heel. None of her encounters brought blame to the tongues of her dissenters. At least, not the sort of blame that would involve legal action.
Simply because Anabel was quite the libertine of sorts, none of this made her any less of a follower of God. She preached His Word to her lovers, to her friends and when in times of loneliness, to her reflection in a broken piece of mirror she kept under her sheets. But she never felt quite so high and mighty as her parents and brothers once did. Her sisters would sympathize but ultimately return to the same self-righteousness taught to them by their father. Seen as an unclean woman with a reputation for "sport" as they called it, she was barred from her local church. By no means did she abandon the Church; rather she took her faith and her beliefs and found peace with those who sided with her. With all her hurt, Anabel continued to respect the religion she once called home and embraced the life she had. Her behavior was not evil but misunderstood. And if God thought differently, then He wasn't the god for her.
Miss Waters spent the rest of her life peacefully, in an open relationship with a man she called her "husband" for thirty-two years. She passed her time through writings and poetry, much of which is obscure or lost today. The few left around are owned by the Estate of Petticrew, an estate of her descendants through her husband's line, the Tolles. (She only ever did have one son, Mason Tolle, who was born a "miracle boy" when she had him at 42. She struggled with infertility so her son was her blessing.)
Now if Miss Watters lived today, I don't quite know if she would participate in our present-day movements. She was, indeed, a fiercely independent woman in an age where her trysts with men caused much of her ostracism. But Anabel was all too forgiving for her to explicitly fight against her opponents. My contemporaries would paint her as an iconoclast but if they'd truly understand Miss Watters, they'd paint her more as an outsider. A Hester Prynne. Someone who didn't fit expectations but quietly wished for acceptance. But it was her quiet protest that fascinated and inspired me the most: her mere existence was her best defense.
Maybe in my next post, I can explain more background on this. But right now, I will say something that I don't even know if it's important or not: this story is not about acceptance of "promiscuity" as a norm for the religious. People still have standards within their own religions; people still have their traditions and cultures. If it's not physically hurting anybody, don't argue with the religious. It's just as rude and disrespectful as them arguing with a non-believer on their personal life. This story is simply about realizing that there are definite outcasts in a system that proclaims to love all and to discriminate against none. Roman Catholicism is about the universal acceptance of sinners, not of winners. Jesus couldn't care less about your doing charity all your life. There's nothing to save. He does care about the murderers, liars, prostitutes, and so on. Again, this story is about people like Anabel who've existed for centuries who the religious have either drowned out of history or (if they're rather famous or well-known) watered down their pasts. Telling a fictional story about a fictional, religious character who may represent real, religious people does not condone their behavior nor does it make it a norm.
I don't like to do research on my writings which is why I don't want to call this historical fiction. It's a fictional time period with a fictional character and a fictional narrator based on the real centuries of 1600s-1800s. The reason I don't do research is because it limits my writing. I am not writing actual fiction but more so a fictional sketch. Again, this is like an unfinished piece of art on an insignificant piece of paper. Like a doodle, really. So research, though it gives me inspiration, does not feed my writing. Therefore, my writing is completely fictional based on facts I've read or ideas that spring from those facts.
Feel free to comment. I'd love to hear feedback.
As I laid in the comfort of my own bed and read the titillating pieces of this woman's escapades, my mind began to race around the edges of a territory almost forgotten: the connections between our religions and our behavior. Anabel Watters exercised her femininity through her sexual freedom and grace. She was not thrown in jail; she was not stoned or executed; rather, she was ignored and overlooked. Yes, many looked down at her; others scolded her; and the rest of her opponents even threw around disturbing, defamatory gossip on the streets about her. Her family may have cast her aside, but her friends were themselves advocates of her "liberties". Reading about her life, I concluded that, though religion was an influence over society, religion did not always speak for its nation. As it turned out, it was more scandalous for people to know your sexual history than your sexual nature. (Prostitutes legally existed and no one in Anabel's time period ignored that; but if word broke out that you ever slept with one or more, your reputation was on the line.) Given the gossip that floated around, unless one could prove Anabel Watters slept with "three hundred" men, there was nothing that could be done about her behavior.
Her relations were subtle: her quiet midnight rides to Mr. Parker's; her late-night disappearances from the local pub; and sometimes, a man would be seen standing outside her door with a tip of his hat, a few gracious words, and a turn of his heel. None of her encounters brought blame to the tongues of her dissenters. At least, not the sort of blame that would involve legal action.
Simply because Anabel was quite the libertine of sorts, none of this made her any less of a follower of God. She preached His Word to her lovers, to her friends and when in times of loneliness, to her reflection in a broken piece of mirror she kept under her sheets. But she never felt quite so high and mighty as her parents and brothers once did. Her sisters would sympathize but ultimately return to the same self-righteousness taught to them by their father. Seen as an unclean woman with a reputation for "sport" as they called it, she was barred from her local church. By no means did she abandon the Church; rather she took her faith and her beliefs and found peace with those who sided with her. With all her hurt, Anabel continued to respect the religion she once called home and embraced the life she had. Her behavior was not evil but misunderstood. And if God thought differently, then He wasn't the god for her.
Miss Waters spent the rest of her life peacefully, in an open relationship with a man she called her "husband" for thirty-two years. She passed her time through writings and poetry, much of which is obscure or lost today. The few left around are owned by the Estate of Petticrew, an estate of her descendants through her husband's line, the Tolles. (She only ever did have one son, Mason Tolle, who was born a "miracle boy" when she had him at 42. She struggled with infertility so her son was her blessing.)
Now if Miss Watters lived today, I don't quite know if she would participate in our present-day movements. She was, indeed, a fiercely independent woman in an age where her trysts with men caused much of her ostracism. But Anabel was all too forgiving for her to explicitly fight against her opponents. My contemporaries would paint her as an iconoclast but if they'd truly understand Miss Watters, they'd paint her more as an outsider. A Hester Prynne. Someone who didn't fit expectations but quietly wished for acceptance. But it was her quiet protest that fascinated and inspired me the most: her mere existence was her best defense.
Maybe in my next post, I can explain more background on this. But right now, I will say something that I don't even know if it's important or not: this story is not about acceptance of "promiscuity" as a norm for the religious. People still have standards within their own religions; people still have their traditions and cultures. If it's not physically hurting anybody, don't argue with the religious. It's just as rude and disrespectful as them arguing with a non-believer on their personal life. This story is simply about realizing that there are definite outcasts in a system that proclaims to love all and to discriminate against none. Roman Catholicism is about the universal acceptance of sinners, not of winners. Jesus couldn't care less about your doing charity all your life. There's nothing to save. He does care about the murderers, liars, prostitutes, and so on. Again, this story is about people like Anabel who've existed for centuries who the religious have either drowned out of history or (if they're rather famous or well-known) watered down their pasts. Telling a fictional story about a fictional, religious character who may represent real, religious people does not condone their behavior nor does it make it a norm.
I don't like to do research on my writings which is why I don't want to call this historical fiction. It's a fictional time period with a fictional character and a fictional narrator based on the real centuries of 1600s-1800s. The reason I don't do research is because it limits my writing. I am not writing actual fiction but more so a fictional sketch. Again, this is like an unfinished piece of art on an insignificant piece of paper. Like a doodle, really. So research, though it gives me inspiration, does not feed my writing. Therefore, my writing is completely fictional based on facts I've read or ideas that spring from those facts.
Feel free to comment. I'd love to hear feedback.
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