Friday, October 4, 2013

Seems…..perhaps











Michael W. Davis





 
A short time ago a good friend encountered a life threatening event and it made me ponder the world without those we care for, respect, admire, enjoy.

Seems I do that more often in my sixties than in my twenties; consider the good, bad and ugly of my life. What I am proud of, what I would change. Perhaps this awakening of our foot print while we walked the earth is natural in preparation for the next phase of existence as a sentient being.

Seems I spend more time assessing the ultimate design, the hand that molds our body, our mind, our very soul. Perhaps that’s his intent. To make us appreciate the gift of life you must first endure the bad, The evil that consumes the innocence of children, the self-centered politician that pits one group against another instead of the promise to unite they become a divider.

Seems above all I marvel at the wonder of human love, the indestructible bond between a man and woman. How it materializes in such complex emotions; adornment, tenderness, lust, a hunger to consume one’s life mate as if that hunger can be quenched by no other. Perhaps, again, that glue, that overpowering attraction is part of his grand scheme. To sample another inside and out, carry that linkage into the next realm, the infinite awareness beyond the physical to the ethereal.

I expect you may question what this has to do with writing, yet what is creating a fictional story without reflecting upon the human condition, the struggle, the final burst of reality when the character, and the reader scream silently across their skull, OMG. The confusion has lifted, the veil of fog vanished. I see the truth, the reason, what has caused such  uncertainty all these years and now it all makes sense, is clear, is beautiful. As if it is part of a natural order, an enigma purposefully placed in the path we stumble down as we evolve through each day, each year, in the hope we eventually awaken. Like many authors, I try to depict this journey from darkness to light in each story, regardless if its one of my romantic suspense novels or Sci Fi tales. Take the reader, not just through 90,000 words spewed on 200 pages, but tripping beyond the routine of their daily pain and frustration. Help them ponder, and perhaps explore possible answers to all those questions that float in their conscious and unconscious thoughts.

Seems to me that’s the goal of writing. To make the reader take a deep breath on the first page and forbid them from exhaling until the very last word, or perhaps I over think, nay some would say, I am just full of monkey do (g).




5 comments:

Julie Eberhart Painter said...

You ARE full of good imagery. Well thought out.

Liz Fountain said...

That is the goal of writing fiction - beautifully stated. Of course, that's not mutually exclusive with being full of monkey poo. *grins back*

Liz
lizfountain.wordpress.com

Big Mike said...

Sometimes I don't even realize myself where this stuff comes from. I'll see something in everyday life, start pondering, then become enveloped by some facet of the human condition. Weird, huh.

Michael Davis (Davisstories.com)
Author of the Year (2008 and 2009)
Award of Excellence (2012)

Julie Eberhart Painter said...

It's called intelligence, Mike.

Big Mike said...

Your a peach, JP.

Michael Davis (Davisstories.com)
Author of the Year (2008 and 2009)
Award of Excellence (2012)