I’m closing down on a draft right now, coming right up on the dark moment, and I’m eating and sleeping this one, and everything I do during the day seems secondary. Literally, it’s all I think about (and don’t you HATE when people misuse literally because if you’re saying or writing it you’re being “literal”?). Perhaps it’s just a coping mechanism, as coming off two years of COVID absorption that segued smack into the horror going on halfway around the world, this deep-dive allows me a perfect diversion into another reality. And you might ask yourself, is it naive or unrealistic or to write about situations so ignorant of our current events? Shouldn’t my writing be more reflective of the current state of affairs? Shouldn’t my characters ask each other if they’ve been boosted or if they’ve lately sent a contribution to an overseas aid agency? Shouldn’t they be sleeping with one eye opened at night?

I don’t know about you, but even though I take my writing very seriously, it is seriously my escape, and I’m of the belief that my readers will welcome a portal to another world, if only for a little while. Isn’t that why we write and read fiction after all?