There are thousands upon thousands of people who think of themselves as writers, and who almost never write. And, since it’s 2023, they have a “community.”

A story need not be factual to be true. The Emperor’s New Clothes is a true story, as are Romeo and Juliet, The Lord of the Rings, and The Remains of the Day. They’re true, because they create an encounter with reality. But our current human reality is not absolute reality; it is not God. This reality also includes created things in a state of journeying, and it includes disorder.

More on the saga of writing stuff, and trying to get other people to read it.

Where I’m at with writing these days.

I can’t post fiction here, and submit it for publication. So what now?

Sleep and I have a rocky relationship. I don’t mean getting to sleep, or even waking up. Melatonin, and not drinking coffee past noon have solved the first problem, and I’ve been waking up early, on and off, since I was eleven. It’s the need to go to sleep that gives me such trouble.

Call it common mysticism. Call it quantum weirdness. Call it according to whatever cosmological theory you happen to embrace. But don’t call it architecture. Writers are not architects.