A Writer of Sorts…

“Even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it.”
— C.S. Lewis (Mere Christianity)

I’m really glad I found this quote. C.S. Lewis was such a brilliant mind, and never just about any one thing. It’s like a light bulb suddenly illuminated in my mind and showed me all the cobwebs of my idle thinking. The major story-killer for me has always been originality. There was always that unnerving question, “Is this even unique? How can I make this my own?” I quite believe the fault was in myself.

I love the fantasy genre. I like the idea there is a place outside of what is familiar to me, where the rules established here to a lesser degree hold no weight.

First off, I by no rights am religious, but rather a man of faith. I do believe that, for me anyways, fantasy has been that one element of understanding that man can perceive a world outside the one he inhabits. Peter gave us a glimpse of heaven as he saw it. Indeed, the happily ever after is an allegory to the heavenly times that await us. Maybe this is my draw to fantasy, where good can conquer evil without the red tape of being morally grey (though that seems to be the rise in popularity lately).

Robert. E. Howard is a great example of someone who found his originality. He was a rough writer from Texas who wrote elaborately violent stories that were constantly rejected from major publications except for one. From here he began to weave the life of a rogue, a king, a conquer, a destroyer, and a barbarian–Conan. But even more interesting than the pseudo-real world fantasy was how Conan came to be.

Howard was convinced the world was out to get him and, like the strange man he was, boarded up his house. Eventually he had hallucinations of a raven-haired barbarian standing over him with a battle-axe threatening to kill him if he did not write these stories (thankfully, I have yet to encounter this type of motivation).

So here I am, sitting on my bed, relaying these thoughts as I plan for many projects that need sorting. I will lovingly look at them one by one and shun the thoughts of originality, but instead, bring to my stories that element of truth. Thank you Mr. Lewis!

I bid everyone a great day/afternoon and may the ink of your pens never run dry.

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