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My Secret Blue Diary
First Week of October, 2025: My Fictional People, My Real People, and God
I’m thinking of the main character of my last novel.
His name is Chris.
It’s funny, because I can’t quite see his features — just like a person long gone from my life — but I can clearly hear his voice: a bit high-pitched, nervous, yet holding subtle traces of meekness. In my mind, he talks with all the people around him, again and again. He never talks to me. He has no clue about my existence.
What lonely gods we, writers, are. Our creations give rise to divine beings of their own and never really know who truly made them — someone out of their world, out of their space-time, out of any possible conjecture.
Isn’t that what we are, too? Could our Creator inhabit a reality so different that it’s actually unfathomable? And after our death — after the end of the book — do we continue to exist in His mind, eternal and unforgettable?
It’s sunny today. I went out to do a lot of shopping, and the sun went straight into my brain because I forgot to put on my sunglasses. My relationship with the sun is both love and hate. It pumps me with endorphins but gives me false…
