I read a story in A Treasury of Science Fiction, an anthology from 1948 that I picked up in one of those free libraries. It's been sitting on my coffee table for months, you know how it is. The introduction had this part, which I thought was very good:
"However, the great majority of the yarns you are about to read have been put down on paper solely to entertain you, and to provide you with some rugged exercises for your imagination. In the long run, those are the major purposes of the art. And if you do enjoy this book, if you get from it a few hours' relaxation from the tensions of modern living, its reasons for being will have been justified." - Groff Conklin (1948)
I thought that was great. It reminds me of David Mamet's thing about the purpose of drama being the suspension of consciousness. It's similar to drugs I think, people have a hard time taking unmediated reality, unmediated consciousness, all the time. We need a break.
It's nice, too, to have that be the goal of my writing. Just make it a little nice for people for a little bit! There's value in that. Loads of fucking value. I care enough about a nice time, I think, to make that my life's work. Or to try to make it that. Reminds me of my thinking when I posted this:
no there's not lol https://t.co/mzUepLhA4T
— Amy Carver (@AngryBrownCarvr) April 4, 2022
No comments:
Post a Comment