My wife often accuses me of living in my own little world, and as a writer very often she is right. In fact, I create my own little world. When I write I am literally God, The Big Guy, Numero Uno. Okay I don’t have that live-forever thing down yet, but I can do anything, and it doesn’t take me seven days to create the universe. I can do it in an afternoon, maybe a couple of hours if I’m just kicking out a short story. I create life, end life and come up with life that is neither alive nor dead. The laws of physics hold no power over me—Einstein is a fuzzy-headed joke. I can give Pygmies the strength of Atlas and make superheroes as weak as babies. I can make it so Spiderman can’t climb walls or spin webs (I’d have to get permission from Marvel Comics first, but then I could do it.)
The only thing I can’t do in my world is give my characters free will. Everything they think, say or do comes from me, whether it is good or bad–I guess that makes me the devil in my world, too. Sometimes I like to think that my characters talk to me and tell me what they want to do or say, but in the end DRAG/DELETE gives me a phenomenal veto power. Free will is a funny thing. It is what makes our world interesting. It keeps us striving for more and better things. It is the reason people like me write. It is also what makes things so much tougher in the world of the real Big Guy than in the world of a fool like me.