Posts tagged Writer

“You know, people think that in this age of information and starships, that novels no longer have any importance. I read a paper one of these days saying that ‘we already live in a sci-fi life, why would we need the fiction if we have it all right here in real life?’. I laughed for a solid 15 minutes. Really. We spread ourselves through a whole galaxy, at least three planets overpopulated. we have a massive system linking all that. That means a enormous database of information and a uninterrupted flux of information from trillions of different sources every second. We are devastated by information, overwhelmed by it in ways we couldn’t even have dreamed of just a few years back. And people think that’s fine. That it’s easy to cope with that, that life is too complex and big to waste away with books, specially what the unbelievably consumerist society of ours demands of books. But people forget the values of escapism, specially for people of today. Books are more complex than ever, granted, but they simplify the complexity of our lives. They give us structure, they guide our thoughts that would otherwise be scattered around billions of areas.

But writing today is a nearly impossible feat. Much research is needed to give your story verisimilitude. Which brings us to our present situation. Because you see, I’m writing a book. It tells the tale of a serial killer with a deep message, that sort of thing. He kills one of each species and race, nothing more, nothing less, across the galaxy. Nobody pays any mind to it, of course, until a incorruptible cop starts to become suspicious of the apparently random killings. It’s still fiction, of course. I can write about a incorruptible being, because it’s what we all would like to be or to believe exists. The book brings all kinds of discussions about racism, specism and the impact of non-ordinary events on the lives of a crumbling empire that encompasses a galaxy and far surpasses the lives of a few naturally doomed.

Research, you understand. Hey, hey. Don’t cry. It won’t hurt, I swear. Look at it as you making a sacrifice so that no one else of your kind dies by my hands.

All in the name of art.”

Well, it’s wondrous what a few kind words can do to someone’s confidence. Thanks to the feedback of a few people, I’ve decided to draw a new yet flimsy stop to my silence. This story is part of an universe-building project I started with my cousin (960018) but sadly ended up archiving. I’ll post some of the stories that were generated from that, at least one every week.

Until then, gape at an assortment of sublime imagery.