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November 30, 2024 - March 7, 2025
The instant we wake the story begins: “Here I am. In my bed. Hard worker, good dad, decent husband, a guy who always tries his best. Jeez, my back hurts. Probably from the stupid gym.” And just like that, with our thoughts, the world gets made. Or, anyway, a world gets made. This world-making via thinking is natural, sane, Darwinian: we do it to survive. Is there harm in it? Well, yes, because we think in the same way that we hear or see: within a narrow, survival-enhancing range. We don’t see or hear all that might be seen or heard but only that which is helpful for us to see and hear. Our
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And look at that: the more I know about her, the less inclined I feel to pass a too-harsh or premature judgment. Some essential mercy in me has been switched on. What God has going for Him that we don’t is infinite information. Maybe that’s why He’s able to, supposedly, love us so much.
I've often thought about this but not in relation to fiction: the writer as 'God' providing perfect information on the character to make them loveable despite their flaws. In this way the writer can foment connection to people (characters) beyond what could usually be achieved in every day life. Another testament to the power of fiction.