Characters in the pages of fiction are lucky. Sometimes, they get to start over. They get to amend their actions, cognize situations new again - if their authors deem them worthy (or perhaps unworthy), they get a second chance. If our characters could think, they’d have themselves up in arms in a classic philosophical debacle; simply, they are technically not the makers of their own pasts and futures. They have no responsibility outside of the pages in which they live. While they exist in a fictional free will world, they are guided by the determinism of pen marks in long hand, in keystrokes across computer screens that are not theirs.
We as the creators, the thinkers - we are not so lucky. We are accountable for each thought and action, and tethered to our pasts and presents by an identity that does not go away with the eraser tip of a pencil. We are not silenced by a backspace key.
When thinking about accountability in the fictional world versus the real world - something seemingly mundane that to most needs no attention or thought - I get a start. That temptation to slip away from the real world and into a fantasy life of fiction - if only in thought, and if only for a minute - well, it becomes consuming. In moments like this, I understand the intrigue of the fabricated, and understand my obligation to continue exploring ways to blur the line.
M
