FRIDAY ( isn't it?): THE FUTURE OF FICTION

I don’t mean that to be as grand or philosophical as it might sound. This is just me musing about what I’m going to write about—if anything.

Oh, I know I’ll be writing something. But will it be about people living as we have in the past? The problem is, we don’t know exactly what the future will look like. Will it be the same as before, with Superbowls, rock concerts, cruise ships, amusements parks, church services? Or will we find that we can’t risk the chance of some deadly disease taking us completely out of the game, where quality of life is irrevelant when you’re dead.

I really didn’t intend for this to get as serious as it sounds. I’m just wondering if it will be okay to write about relationships and life situations that may not exist, or at least not be the same anymore? Will there be any Disneyland for the guy to treat his girl with a surprise visit?Will sports competitions, amateur or professional, still exist? Will there be quaint bed and breakfast inns to run or even stay in (10 guests or less maybe). Will there be classical orchestra concerts, Hospital Galas, Navy ships with 50 to 5000 crew members?

Some of these questions may seem a bit esoteric, not a big concern for many people. Their needs and daily concerns are of a much more basic nature. But they matter to me. Should I be writing about locations and plots that may not even exist anymore? This is what I’ve begun wrestling with.

I expect each of us will face this in our individual situations, sooner or later. Is what I’m doing relevant to what the world is becoming? Should I even care? We may not have much control of how the world makes those changes or what they are. We should be able to control how we fit in with those changes.

I know, fiction writing Isn’t very near the top of most people’s priority lists of what the world is going to be. But it’s important to me. In that respect, I agree with those who say quality of life is important. But I also believe that life is precious, worth fighting for.