Do you ever feel as though you’re stumbling through life, moving at the whim of all those things you can’t control, without a firm sense of balance or direction? Yeah, I hate that too. Last night I was re-reading one of my favorite authors (Anne McCaffrey) and wondered about the appeal of reading fiction. In my current mood, it’s probably because those stories set on planets and in times so far away call to me as an escape from the humdrum ever-beating cadence of life. Sometimes people read as an escape or respite from reality, but what happens when it’s time to come back to reality? That got me thinking about what my life would like in a book. I mean, why don’t people write about normal, every day happenings in normal, every day people? Almost all of my favorite books have a hero or heroine dealing with some crisis or adventure or project. As readers, we hunger for the hero/heroine to triumph over their obstacles, and in our imaginations, that scenario is better than reality. So I guess what I’m really wondering is if the reality of our every day lives will ever be worth writing and reading about.
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