I read another writer pondering where fiction came from. I presume the whole idea of the lack of a relationship to people living or dead suggests it comes from some great vacuum.
If you were to read my physics papers, you would see that I feel that predestination (physics or math, if you prefer) suggests that it does come from no-where, at least what most of us would perceive as nowhere.
The universe seems to like a snow globe. When god picks it up and shakes it, the flakes are instances of life, gravity their falling back to the bottom. But in this case they always shake the same way. Perhaps since the universe spins, it would be better represented by a spinning snow globe, but its all the same, shaken or spun.
If one wants to believe in a god, then one must accept that the universe is created by something more complicated than the most complicated thing we experience. The atheist must, on the other hand, accept that things exist without any reason for it to exist. The only true religion is agnosticism, since all others must rely on accepting the promises and assurances of creation. The agnostic only has to accept the possibility that something so complicated cannot exist without the actions of something more complicated, something dimensional and linear can only exist in the presence of something that exists in its absence. It is all such nonsense, this life we lead has no logical basis.
But creativity exists. The ability to face your problems and change things around you exists. Even someone who feels that predestination is proven, can understand that part of predestination lies in creativity of a predestined universe and whatever we consider creativity, whether predestined or not, has an element that appears to have spontaneity.
And creativity doesn't exist in a vacuum...or of course it does, now that I think about it, at least according to my interpretation of the linearity of time which defines vacuum somewhat more restrictively than what you'll find in your dictionary, the vacuum of non-linearity is not only empty, but dimensionless.
That all being said, creativity feeds on feedback, it survives because it gets results.
I began to feel that every day was special. Whether every day could be controlled, if not by me then by something greater than me, was a question that had no certain answer, but having nothing left to lose, I realized that whatever was left could be controlled. In my little economic cell, I could at least walk from one end to the other. I might fly into a brick wall if I assailed my problems, but I could lay down and die or I could assail them.
I could also do all those things that were important to me at least to the extent that I could. The very lack of responsibility embedded in total failure meant I was responsible to no one, perhaps I was not even responsible to myself. Instead I was responsible only to what I thought was important.
I wrote my thoughts down and there was positive response, some took the time to buy a copy of my not quite finished physics books even though the newer versions are only days away. Even if no one listened to me, even if I was only a mad preacher screaming my religion on the streets, I was being true to my beliefs. I began to understand the mad preacher. I no longer mocked or felt sorry for them, instead I now understood that they held a power that those who laughed at them lacked.
It did not matter whether there was an answer to this question: which of those works will withstand the test of time, which will turn out to be fact, which fiction.
My partner began to file bankruptcy. Not the one who was impervious to debt for he created his own reality. He was, perhaps, more like me than the others. I chose a different path, however. I stood up to reality and said, I can deal with you on my terms. I am clever enough to beat you. In a predestined universe, I can be destined for something more than to be a victim. And still things continued to get worse, the problems multiplied. I was like a person who had raised his fist against an unstoppable tidal wave, a wave that was about to get a lot bigger. However, on this special day as all days are special, I raised my fist and yelled into the approaching storm, "here I am come and get me." And it did.
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