This post is not a story, nor is it quite an editorial. It is about the thoughts and realizations that led up to me writing it, if that makes any sense.

The past few days have been rather interesting, as far as my writing is concerned. Thanks to a suggestion from the excellent Krystian Majewski, I wanted to write a short story with Roche limits as its central theme. I’m still going to do that, but when I sat down on Sunday and began to write, I just couldn’t get the words out. That happens with fiction. Sometimes, you just have to wait and try again.

Monday came and brought a few opinions with it. Tuesday followed suit. With the story on the back burner and my Full Sail final project occupying the daytime hours, I considered filling this week with an editorial of some kind.

Have you ever had a really great idea, started working on it, and then discovered a few days later that someone else is already way ahead of you? It happens to me all the time; years ago with Advent Rising, then with Cloud Atlas, then recently with PaperPlane. I was going to write a huge post detailing my theory that this phenomenon is neither telepathy nor coincidence, but rather suggests that creative people are highly sensitive to subtle cultural undercurrents that manifest themselves in parallel works.

Or, after reading an explosive argument on Twitter between the voice of Dr. Venture and a guy with a lousy attitude, I was going to tackle the absurd yet seemingly ubiquitous assumption that creative people are “public servants” with a “responsibility” to produce the content their audience expects. This argument expanded when my lovely girlfriend remarked on the overpowering cynicism with which people respond to celebrity activists, as though it’s impossible for a famous person to use their fame for anything other than self-promotion.

Then I watched this video and nearly wept at my desk, longing for the bright futures that I try so hard to describe in my stories. I wanted to elaborate on this, linking the video’s profound message with my desire to create lasting works of fiction that capture the same feeling of adventurous wonder. I might have gone on and on for hours about the true purpose of storytelling and the inspirational power of wild speculation.

But ultimately, I’m tired and I’d rather be telling stories. Sure, there’s nothing wrong with expressing an opinion on the Internet, but it takes a lot of time to build a well-supported argument and it never feels like I’m accomplishing anything. I could be discussing these things with the people I care about and leaving my blog for stuff that’s more universally interesting and less exhausting for me to write.

I’ve been aching to write more fiction these days anyway. :)