Worlds that Don’t Exist
Blog post by Iris Carden
I’ve always lived a part of my life in worlds that don’t exist. Whether they were the worlds created authors, or worlds created by my own imagination.
Even as a child, I preferred the worlds where a girl could go on an amazing adventure or solve a mystery, to the world where I was a fat girl, with an almost constantly bleeding nose, who was bullied in the school ground. (Yes, even as a child I had medical problems that interfered with everyday life.)
I suspect everyone who writes fiction is like me, not necessarily in having had a life they needed to escape, but in having entire worlds of events happening inside our heads while everyday life happens. Sure I’m doing housework, but I’m also riding a powerful motorbike through the mountains. I may be tripping and falling, sprawled over the kitchen floor, but I’m also a master thief and adventurer stealing the holy grail. I’m deleting spam emails, but I’m also standing on the surface of Mars.
Once my ex-husband demanded to know what I was thinking. The world I was in was so vibrant and real. I could have written him an entire novel of what I was thinking at that moment, but I couldn’t just have told him in a couple of words.
Now, one of the best ways I know of dealing with the pain and fatigue of chronic illness, is to be somewhere entirely different, somewhere a clever and brave girl can save her friends, somewhere a woman can deal with living in a haunted house, anywhere people are solving problems that aren’t the unsolvable problem I live with.
I write the best of the worlds and adventures that happen in my own many alternate worlds. That way others can enter into them too. I still look forward to the worlds other authors create.