I have a new idea for a novel. I excitedly began compiling ideas, working through possibilities. Next came the plotting and research. Hours zipped by like minutes. I’ve now read tons of articles and guidelines pertaining to what and how to do what my protagonist would have already done and already known. I have multiple pages of notes and possibilities. Pages of the story written? None. LOL
I almost didn’t start a new WIP. I almost didn’t keep writing. I was so hung up on not having a solid moral or lesson to offer in our nation’s fragile state. I didn’t want to write something without power and significance. Didn’t want to present anything too relaxed. Afraid of writing something empty in a time when we need something solidified and strong and brave.
Then I remembered … I’ve read a lot of reality and the negativity multiplies. I want to write something I would want to read. What I want to read is not based in reality. I want magic and a definitive victory in the end. It needs to sweep away what’s actually going on and create a sense of fantastic otherness. Perhaps not specifically to forget what’s really going on, but in spite of it.
So I will. I will write a story that takes myself and my future reader away from it all – whatever it may be at the time. And that’s that. Reality may bleed into it, but that’s all. I will have no requirement of myself to make the world a better place with it. If it happens by chance through whatever escape I build –> bonus points.