As I finish reading my latest literary conquest, I wonder why write? What do I have to offer anyone?
I’ve decided that the part of me that changes the story as I read should have a telling of its own. Except if I coalesce my ideas with what’s already there then it’s plagiary. But wait, is it plagiary if I never plan to publish it?
Never mind, it doesn’t work that way anyway, ’cause my character takes on a life of it’s own with his/her own personality and challenges and thus an idea is born. After all, Plato was one of Socrates’s greatest students, and Aristotle one of Plato’s. Great philosophers building on the ideas of the influences placed before them.
Not to compare myself with two of the greatest minds in history, but that’s how it works. We are all influenced by the world we live in, whether we build different universes, or alter our world in some realistically epic tale, or twist the world into a fantastic spin of the pen where reality is invented to suit our imaginary whim.
What we writer’s offer is not reality, but an escape from our mundane lives to live in a world of dreams where we can be who and what we want, where we can travel and explore where we may; and what better way to live, than to live the lives of our dreams.