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The best part about writing fiction is to be able to traverse the distance between the supplied reality and an altered one. The supplied reality is the world that is given to all of us, not by the creator, God, but by the society. It also carries its own stereotypical feelings and perceptions that rather restrict a human being’s imagination and wisdom than bestowing upon him the original light of the divine wisdom. The altered form of reality is the optional reality that an individual creates for himself or herself, with respect to one’s own creative faculties; for me it is fiction.
When the wings of this enchanting bird take their full stretch and soar high in the horizon of my mind, I anticipate kingdoms and landscapes and people, equally enchanting and bewitching. The story is a bridge that speaks. It tells me how important it is to get connected with that land of magic and enchantment to make sense of life. Sometimes I get this feeling that the characters I write about are souls that had lost their way and through this bridge of fiction finding their way back home.
Fiction, being the antagonistic brother of reality in the tale of human existence, the inevitable clash between the two is sufficiently obvious. In this clash reality experiences nothing much of a life threat. It survives, even when fiction celebrates its life well over a century. But on the other hand, the prospect of the child of fiction is vulnerable. It requires, sometimes, the very vein blood of reality to survive. Some might ask; “Where is reality in this story?” as if without reality every aspect of the art of fiction is lifeless. But with the dexterity of many a masters and wizards, the art of fiction survives to see the sun of the second decade of the 21st century. How wonderful; just like a fiction!
Reality cannot carry fiction in it. But within its soul, in the intricate caverns of inspiration, art and technique, there exists a niche, a special space, which bears the seed of reality in the world of fiction, as only stories can. A story in reality is that part of life, which we all cherish to live real but never dare to pursue. Even in the saddest of tales, there will be a part where you want to rejoice and live through as yourself. Some stories end with a miracle, a drop of tear in the corner of your eyes, but some end with a magic, a smile full of amaryllis on your lips. The story is the smile of a teardrop.
The best part of writing fiction is being able to communicate with the world in a way you never could before or thereafter and in any other ways known to man. In the path it shows into the domains of altered reality, it makes us all say something that we experienced in our lives, a word of wisdom or a gesture of kindness.
[Written for the writing prompt in Writer's Digest Magazine]