the changeling
1163 words written in the local bar, and apparently we have a changeling in the scene.
Oh well.
At least she’s not the changeling-that-is-in-fact-shapeshifter.
I was thinking about the theme of my work today. Actually, I was thinking about my mortality, and how everything I write is, in fact, redacted from my life and so I’d want to write something that *matters* while I exist. However:
1) the thing I write now is, on surface (and, as far as I’m concerned, plot- and character wise), a simple, almost simplistic “fantasy”, not The Next Great Novel,
2) it contains a theme that resonates deeply within me, the “OMG how very dangerous *any* emotional commitment is” theme, and on this theme I would want to write The Next Great Novel.
And I realized that the only way for me to get to the Theme is through the story that perhaps isn’t all that remarkable. But see, my changeling emerged not because I thought “oh I need a changeling to expose another facet of my Theme” but because “oh crap the story is getting boring and I hate writing boring even if I can stuff all kinds of clever words there, so let’s throw a child there, in that cave, and see what they say”.
