Just after writing Earth Day, I had an idea (more of an epiphany, really), which — on reflection — should have given me more pause for thought, but didn’t.
I made the decision to create my own universe, or more specifically, a continuum.
“What, like the Marvel Universe?” Christy suggested.
Not quite, no. But then again, yes. I don’t pay too much attention — if any at all — to what other people are doing, as I have my own ideas.
In my universe, every novella and novel is part of a constellation of stories, each connecting with another in some way, be it a character, a technology, an event, a business, a location, or an idea.
“They won’t really care.” Christy reasoned. “The readers, I mean.”
She had a point.
“I write for myself.” I said.
Yes, I am a selfish author.
It’s the creation of these nebulous connections, and the challenge of ensuring every story is a part of the same continuum that motivates me as much as anything.
However, it does impose certain rules; certain ideas I have are out of bounds, since they do not fit within the scope of the continuum.
You’d think that there’d be plenty of room in an entire universe. No, certain genres just don’t fit.
I have made a commitment, which I intend remaining true to, come what may.
