All of
my life I’ve heard that you should write about what you know. That sounds like
good advice…on the surface…however, if we writers really followed that advice
there’d be a lot of novels about overworked and underpaid drones whose idea of
a hot time is drinking a second cup of overly sweet punch after a PTA meeting,
defining true decadence as having a stale cookie with the punch.
I say,
thank gawd for the imagination.
Nothing
provides more entertainment for the human animal than our imaginations. As
children we dumped the kitchen chairs upside down and threw a blanket over
them, calling it the Starship Enterprise. We happily spent the afternoon
rotating the planet Blitchnik in search of mottle headed frinkle farts who stole
orgut soup from skinny, blond haired snerks. We fully intended to muffle the
jerks with wax lips and beat them senseless with our Spider Man Yo-Yos when we
caught them.
Life was
good.
Our
imaginations took a slightly different turn when we became adults, but they
were no less potent. See the happily married couple in a bar pretending they’ve
never met before. In their imaginations, he’s a rich, successful surgeon and
she’s a lonely fashion model on break from a particularly difficult string
bikini shoot. Never mind that the only surgery he performs is on the toilet,
when the tank thingy sticks, and she hasn’t seen the inside of a bikini since
bearing their ten children, when she discovered that she could build a treasure
map on her stomach with a felt tip pen and an array of very interesting stretch
marks. In their heads they’re young, powerful, and vibrant.
Life is
good. (And in this case…so is the sex!)
Our
personalities make us what we are. Our brains help us maneuver through life
relatively unscathed. But our imaginations turn it all into an amusement park
ride for which we keep getting back into line. I celebrate the imagination, and
recognize its need to feed. Which is why, I believe, so many of us devour
novels like starving chocoholics at Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory (Ahh to do
the breast stroke in that chocolate river!). Through fiction we give our
imaginations room to fly. I believe that’s just as important to our health as
getting that damned colonoscopy the medical community has banded together to
foist upon all of us! So irritating… But I digress…
I tend
to do that.
As
writers, we are blessed to be part of the care and feeding of our readers’
imaginations through our writing. But the very best part is that the
imagination has many and diverse needs. It needs to laugh. It needs to be
surprised. It needs danger and adventure. And sometimes it just needs to cry.
This opens up so many opportunities for the writer of fiction, allowing each of
us to find our niche in this land of opportunity.
My niche
involves providing mind candy. I know
many writers want to believe their writing is epic and life changing. Not me.
I’m looking for my readers to release a few endorphins through
excitement and laughter. Real life is
complex and difficult. Endorphins make
us feel good. Most of us, when we pick
up a book, just want to be entertained.
My books will never lecture or solve real problems. But they will make you smile, gasp, feel
really good, and yes…occasionally…even yell at the characters. Because the stories are built around a
subliminal message that I don’t think most people can resist. The message?
It’s this: Isn’t this a lot of fun?
Let’s do it again sometime.
#:0) But having said that, I
don’t want you to think I view my books as unimportant. I don’t think there’s anything more important
than making someone feel good. I view
that as one of my most important missions in life. And I’d like to think I have a gift for it.
3 comments:
Having an imagination is the best thing. I love to write and create. I agree about the write what you know, but considering I write about vampires and other things and I don't know any..
LOL, Life would be very interesting if the things we write about really existed, huh? Thanks for stopping by Savannah!
LOL, Life would be very interesting if the things we write about really existed, huh? Thanks for stopping by Savannah!
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