It has been snowing in the west country of England where I have my home. I know other parts of the world face much greater challenges with the weather but give us a couple of snowflakes and the whole fabric of the United Kingdom seizes up. It is traditional.
The cold weather has given me the chance to think. For a writer this should be a good thing and largely this has proved to be true. I have had plenty of ideas for stories and characters to fill up more of the available space in my various notepads. More importantly I have found the opportunity to reflect on where I am going as a person.
I work in software. I am good at what I do. I am glad to be in work in this time of economic trial so I will not start complaining. I love my job.
But there has to be something more.
I dream of earning a living by writing. This is selfish. It is an indulgence. My parents are poorly. There are homeless people living on the streets of my home town. There is so much hopeless in the world in which I live and all I want to do is tell fairy stories and imaginary friends. Dragons and rocket ships don't feed the hungry. They don't warm cold houses or find work for the jobless.
Creative writing is a distraction? A waste of time. Non-productive maybe?
Maybe not.
Stories shape our lives. Every human society that exists or has ever existed has been driven by the power of the story. Physicists talk about referential models of reality. We understand our world by constructing partial theories, images and imaginative concepts. We tell stories. A single story has the power to change the world.
I want to spend my time on this gorgeous planet of ours by telling stories that matter. This may mean I have to learn to write something that matters not just to myself. I need to expand my horizons and share my dreams. My dreams are pretty good by the way.
Do not waste your life. Start writing.
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