I learned a new word today—paracosm. The internet says it is a detailed imaginary world. Paracosms are often formed by people in childhood and the creators can have complex, deeply felt relationships with this universe of imaginary characters and conventions. I remember having vivid daydreams as a child, but do not remember a consistent fictional imaginary world that I would return to. I find this concept fascinating. These are some expert level imaginers to be committed to a fully created universe that they continue to develop from a young age on through adulthood. I am actually quite impressed.
As a writer, I try to create alternate worlds for my characters in my books and I can’t keep all the details straight. I forget my own rules and setting characteristics and have to keep referring to my notes. People who create paracosms just do it naturally and don’t even have to try. I wonder if novelists who create such amazing fantasy worlds are doing this, in a sense. Maybe some people are naturally more capable of writing fantasy because their brains easily create paracosms.
In case anyone else was unaware of this curious word, I thought I would share what I learned. Then I also made some art on my Gencraft site about paracosms. I simply typed in that word using different models and let AI share what the word made them think of. They turned out really interesting.
I’m having a creative moment. The level of bliss I am experiencing is every creator’s dream. It is that moment when everything feels possible, and all synapses are firing and one idea sparks another. There are so many tabs open in my brain that I need to pause and write about it for a minute just to process the joy.
Let me begin by describing the tabs open on my computer…just for funsies. I have one open that is a bank of usernames I need for different creative tools I’m using that I access through my writing company’s browser. Yes, my best friend and I started a technical writing company. We have meetings and everything. They are on our calendar. We feel very grown up. I’m working on an ebook for our company’s portfolio that is about Data Privacy. It is too wordy, and Erica (my business partner) basically told me I must go back to the drawing board and turn all my wordiness into bullet points and sound bites and images and stuff because people don’t actually like to read all that. Sigh…
In other news, I have a tab open to my current obsession, Suno, where I create music from my lyrics or AI’s lyrics, or some combination of our poetic collaboration. I just wrote a prompt to create a French swamp blues song called “Vie triste”, which translates to “Sad Life.” AI made up this chorus and I love it so much.
And with every kiss We say to ourselves (Ouch) But without kisses It’s worse (Ouch again)
Before that, I generated a sort-of-Salsa song called “Qué rico me lo bailas.” I laughed out loud at Google Translate’s suggestion for the English title as “How delicious you dance it for me.” No, I don’t think that is quite the right interpretation of the meaning. ChatGPT explained that it implied a playful and flirtatious tone, with a focus on admiring someone’s dance moves and rhythm. That sounds more like the idea I was going for. Anyway, I hope it doesn’t say anything awkward in Spanish. Someone will have to let me know if it does.
On another tab, I have an art AI program open called Artistly, where I’m trying to generate an image of a dancer to be the album cover for the Salsa song. It is a new program for me, so I am watching videos to learn how to change the color of his shirt, make him stop pointing at the sky, fix his strangely formed hand, erase the stick he’s now holding for some reason, then add a background. The technology is super impressive. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m figuring it out and having fun as I learn. And then I noticed that Suno already generated the perfect album cover. It is a picture of a bird shaking its tailfeathers. I see you AI. Very funny.
Suno AI generated based on my lyrics.
While my latest song is playing, which happens to be a Korean Bluegrass piece about an old married couple, I am working on art on my Gencraft website. One of my projects with my art is to train AI to be more diverse with body size, skin tone, hair texture, gender, disabilities, and age. I am currently trying to teach one model how to make a little black fairy have an afro instead of loose curls. It is basically arguing with me and struggling to understand.
I am going to wrap up this blog post I am currently working on, then I plan to work a bit on a memoir I am ghostwriting for someone. Next, I will turn my focus to my own novel I am writing. If there is any time left, I will attempt to learn more about template creation for selling digital products on Etsy using a new template website I am learning how to navigate called Templett. I have started a store and am trying to fill it with unique, creative digital art and templates for people to download. There is so much I want to do and not enough hours in the day! When can I read any of my hundreds of books waiting for my attention? When can I get back to any one of my novels I’ve started to write, but not finished? When can I work on my coding classes online to make myself more marketable in tech? And I do have a real job where I work 8 hours in front of a computer with AI every day.
The reality of all this is that most of it was not possible until right now. AI was not advanced enough to be at the stage where engineers needed my help to train them with language. My job was not possible a few years ago. I am not an artist and do not enjoy attempting to create art with my hands, but for the first time in the history of ever, my words can be transformed into beautiful images by AI through collaboration. I love music and can read music, but do not have the time or musical skills on multiple instruments to create the music I am imagining to accompany my lyrics. This new technology did not exist until now. This is a new opportunity for word-creatives like me to express ourselves in a whole new way. And I am here for it.
Julian thinks he has blood burp, the kind where blood comes out of your body. We’re not sure if he needs to go to the hospital, or if he simply needs a glass of water. He said he burped like 1,000 times. He almost burped google plex. Do you know what google plex means? It means past infinity.
He’s busy playing the piano, and such beautiful music makes him wax contemplative. Try to guess that song, he says. Happy Birthday, I throw out on a whim. NO! It’s something that says uuuuhhhh. He’s learning to sound out words in Kindergarten and likes to point out the starting sounds of words to show how smart he is, like the color red – rrrrr, rrrrr, come on, guess it, he says. rrrrr, eeeee, dddd, red. R, E, D. Red.
Back to uuuuuhhhh. The name of his melancholic song. He is very offended that I can’t figure it out. Turns out, it’s Up from the movie. I think that is the saddest sounding song he can think of, and he wants to play something soulful. Now he’s banging in such a way that all the cats have run outside. He says the loud banging is from the movie, too. It’s the part where there’s singing. He’s done playing the piano.
Now he has my Wonder Woman sword and is practicing stabbing me in a variety of different ways. Through the underarm is his favorite because it comes out the other side and looks really realistic. Hey, wanna arm wrestle? he asks conspiratorially.
I’m not sure how normal our relationship is. This probably isn’t how most people imagine grandmothers and grandsons spend their time. But I don’t want to miss a second of it. What do you want for Christmas? I ask. Without missing a beat, Cristiano Ronaldo cologne from Amazon. Cologne? For a 6-year-old? Are you sure? He nods. What if it arrives and it’s stinky? It won’t be. Ronaldo always smells better than everybody all the time. My bad. I learn something every day.
It always starts with humming a tune or whistling a little ditty.
Then she gets caught up in her own musicality and can’t help but start belting out a few show- tunes and catchy pop numbers.
Before you know it, others have joined in with their makeshift instruments and attempts at harmony, creating spontaneous improvisational magic, the likes of which might not be heard again for a billion years or more.
@Home Studio – 309th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Space Singing photos to accompany my poem:
One of my favorite exotic plants is the Seeing Flower. I’ve never been able to grow them at home but have found several in the wild. I absolutely love how they track your movements and appear to make eye contact. I always wonder what they are thinking. I know it’s silly, anthropomorphizing a flower, but I can’t help it. They say eyes are the window to the soul. What if plants have souls?
@Home Studio – 293rd poem of the year
Runner ups for the Eye Flower photos to accompany my poem:
There is a cave in the land of lost time where forgotten dreams die.
If one ventures near the mouth of the cave a sense of apathy and despair descends. If someone musters the courage to enter, they’ll be greeted by a cold chill and a sense that someone is watching from the darkest recesses.
Are those outlines of skulls tucked along the edges of the cave floor? And what are the veins of liquid seeping from cracks in the walls? The mind will see the worst when fear begins to creep deep into the suffering soul, for no one is drawn into the cave unless they are overcome by pain.
Though time does not exist inside the cavernous vault, it can feel like decades spent wandering through corridors of damp labyrinthian passageways and tunnels. Each bend and fissure holds new anticipation of terror, certain death by sinkhole, falling into an abyss, never to be found. Cries of dread echo from the underworld, but nothing materializes. In the eerie gloom, hope is obscured, a claustrophobic panic envelopes the heart of even the most intrepid.
And then one day, after struggling through a crawlway, the visitor is faced with a sump. The only way out is through, but submerging the self requires a strength of will nearly impossible to imagine. If the lost one dissolves their doubt and dives, they will emerge into a glorious chamber, a sanctuary of sparkling stalactites and stalagmites, and brilliant light streaming in from an opening.
The confused explorer begins the remembering of the world they forgot and climbs the limestone ledges until surfacing, stunned and blinking at the blinding sky.
Unsure how or when, they realize that all fear dissipated somewhere along the way, or perhaps it was collected by the cave.
rebekahjmarshall 