I was chatting with my father-in-law who was here for Thanksgiving and we were talking about books and writing. He didn’t ask the question, “why do you write?” but the answer came up anyway.
“It’s a little bit of immortality,” I said.
(Note: Children are too of course; my friend calls her son her genetic legacy, and it’s true — that lure to reproduce has as much to do with immortality on a cellular level as it does with S-E-X. And in her Vorkisigan saga, Lois McMaster Bujold writes about how Cordelia is awash with an atavistic sense of genetic greed when she realizes she can have as many children as she wants. But we’re talking about books now, so for all those people who think a female writer or artist who thinks of immortality in terms other than children is unnatural and a terrible mother, you can hush. We covered it.)
Everyone wants to live forever. I hope my little books give me the kind of immortality I crave; but I know that’s not likely. Also, it’s harder nowadays, because there’s far more noise to signal.We can’t all be famous!
However, I feel very lucky that I can write my books and create my worlds and bring the characters who live in my head to the page or screen. It’s a privilege.
Here’s my latest little legacy to be birthed upon the world.