Fact or Fiction?

There are times I can’t help but wonder if I’m living out some nebulous melodrama, the likes of which haven’t been seen since the days of Danielle Steele. I mean really… there are so many aspects to my day to day that confuse, confound, and condemn me that it doesn’t seem possible. Sure, everyone has those nagging demons from the past dry-humping their sub consciousness. And yes, I’m well aware that most folks experience the licentiously oriented gorilla known as regret. But as far as I know… I don’t have influence over anyone else, so screw em! I’m stuck facing my own reality in some bizarre emotional introspective nightmare and with each passing moment I feel more and more like I’m a deranged antihero in my own little novella. That or I’m slowly becoming Biff Loman.

            The hardest part with a life like this is trying to stay sane while desperately working within the crazy. The further I go with this whole writing thing… the deeper I feel I am sinking into my own mild, presently humorous-eventually tragic insanity. There is, admittedly, a very large portion of my cognitive mind that wishes I weren’t as such. ‘Oh if only I could be of the detached mentality like such heretics as Sparks and Picoult,’ I lament during my hangover riddled Sunday mornings. But I can’t. Every word that I put to page is not some arbitrary phrase pulled from the ether for the sake of lyrical platitudes. No… I live and breathe in each word. I struggle to rein them in within my mind as I immerse myself in the minds of my characters. How can I write what I can’t see?

            This probably sounds absolutely trite and self-serving to everyone else. Well… tough shit! This is my itsy-bitsy digital soapbox and I’ll preach like Moses on the Mount if I so choose! Besides, I know I’m not alone in this philosophical approach to writing. Several of my friends, compatriots, contemporaries, or whatever else you call them all practice the art of living in the writing. And I don’t mean creating a fictional world for yourself. No… it’s quite the contrary. It’s using reality to weave the story: even fiction writing needs a level of authenticity and realism. Hell, even steam punk or high fantasy needs to be grounded in the familiar so that readers can relate and connect to the characters and the story. In completion of my little opinionated diatribe, all I can say is this: good creative writing blends reality and fiction seamlessly.

            So there you have it you Percocet addicted polka-junkies! I give you the sad yet undeniable truth and key into my very existence. And I’m not even charging you! Well, not yet at least. But we all pay the devil his dues, as the aphorism goes. It’s all a matter of trying to siphon the purest concentration of reality to roll into the joint known as fiction. God, what a mess…