Fear is a good thing. Fear is what drives us to take risks and extend ourselves beyond our normal limits, and any writer who feels he is standing on safe ground is unlikely to produce anything of value.
As I repeatedly read this quote I started to relate it to a recent conversation I had, interestingly enough through text message, where the majority of my writing and banter chooses to exist as of late. The mildly argumentative yet fervent dialogue led to attraction from both parties (I believe) predicated upon intellect.
I have always been a fan of fiction, rooted in the concept that the above quote touches on. Fiction, is a narrative that deals in part with event(s) that have not happened. However, many fictional narratives are embedded with truths and innate characteristics of the author - garnishment which I find most intriguing. Fiction, to me, allows the author, if he is willing to be open, to bleed between the lines. It allows them to transgress from their fears and project their inhibitions. It allows the imaginary to emanate, tie-dyed with true events, intertwining fiction and reality, subconscious with the conscious.
My astute and enlightened counterpart, dripping in collegiate investment and scholastic aptitude, did not share my affliction with fiction (ignore the ryhme). While fiction was intriguing to him/her, it served of less important to them.
"The world involves subjectivity and objectivity. I think objectivity is a more imperative persepctive which benefits all instead of just and individual."
While I agree there are many benefits to objectivity, for one in testing, it is not the cure all, and science is not perfect and history finds itself concealing lies. Why does something have to touch all, when we are all so vastly different in our own beautiful way. They then went on to say that they had less interest in "quintessential redundant narratives of mans struggle with life, but that doesn't negate the fact that it may still be interesting." To this I argue, "you are reading the wrong fictional literature." The Art of Racing in the Rain, is told through a narrative of a dog, witnessing mans struggle, and is far from quintessential in my mind. This man prevails through adversity, and the dogs (obviously imaginary) interpretation was enlightening to ingest. Is this book going to help me solve a math problem, or design a building that is both efficient and green? Will it alter all of humanity? No, but it does change my perspective on a life that is often taken all too seriously.
Granted I am fickle and obdurate in my stance as many people argue history is. So, while I argue this dashing competitors opinion, I do value it.
We finally reached an area of placid agreement - historical fiction, the mediary between non-fiction and fiction. This style of writing allows for a presentation of known objective facts in an imaginary setting, theme, or style. With this literary concept my foe in this argument can move forward amicably and know that they are receiving a larger sum analytical data, and I can rest assure that the author may have faced one or two of their fears whilst writing.
Recurring consistencies are something I am sure that we all find welcoming, but without a surprise or two, what are we trying to prove? That life can be predicted from this day out? That all history repeats itself? That we are all inherently the same and our differences do not benefit one another? I like too think not. We are all part of humanity and in humanity lies many facts that should be used to unite us, not tear us apart. However, what makes us interesting, what makes us love, what makes us passionate, is what is not consistent. I hope this does not change. Otherwise, replace my organs with machines, stamp me with a corporation seal, and choose my wife. Having the ability to live peacefully amongst our vast differences rather than having them drive us into conflict is essential to a productive humanity.
