How important are book covers in the world of indie publishing?

Articles about the importance of book covers almost invariably begin by quoting the old saying that “one should not judge a book by its cover” and then they go on to point out that people in fact do.

In fact, it often appears as though covers are the be-all and end-all of any work of literature as far as a large segment of the ebook consumer population is concerned. This illogical value that appears to be placed on book covers tends to call into question just how much the modern ebook consumer market really values literature for its own sake and seems to suggest that what most people are really interested in is fads as well as visual or personality cults. The act of reading the actual stories thus seems to be nothing more than rituals of social initiation that are merely tagged on to the superficial phenomena themselves.

But are ebook consumers generally as infatuated with covers as many indie authors think (and are themselves)? Do ebook readers really place the kind of absolute be-all and end-all value on covers that many indie authors tend to place on them?

There is some indication that authors – particularly indie authors – might be overestimating and exaggerating their importance. From Writers on the Reality of Book Covers � Writer’s Edit:

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online publishing and self-made authors complicate the importance of cover design. Book covers seem to matter less when browsing and purchasing online… the number of stars on a review or the discounted price can be the clincher for the online-book-buyer and this means that a knock-out book cover may not be as vital as once thought.

Regardless of the extent to which this is the case, one thing I’ve been noticing for quite some time is that there is a good deal of obsession over covers among many indie authors to the extent that many of them seem to see them as status symbols and a good substitute for high quality writing. There also seems to be some misconception regarding the psychological role that book covers play as well as a failure to distinguish between their informative and aesthetic aspects.

For example, it is common to see ebook covers, especially in certain categories, with graphics that are obviously of high quality but the images themselves being cliched, boilerplate and lacking in any creativity. And then there are certain categories that appear to be full of ebooks with high-definition cartoon posters slapped on them. And, amazingly, many of them are listed under “horror”. However, romance appears to be one genre in which cliched and repetitive covers are not only not minded at all but are the actual trend. Once you see one romance cover, you’ve basically seen a million of them: A poster of a pair of models in romantic pose. And if it isn’t that, then it’s a poster of a male model’s six-pack. There is rarely any attempt to convey, image-wise, what is actually unique about each particular story. And it never seems to matter.

Ironically, this tends to serve as additional evidence that cover pictures are not really as important as many authors tend to think, and are, to some extent, a marketing gimmick that has taken on a life of its own.

What a lot of authors (and blog articles) seem to get wrong is assuming that the book cover is more important than the story itself at least as far as sales are concerned. Perhaps for a certain segment of the book consumer population who are highly superficial and are not actually genuine lovers of reading, it may be. But for most people who like to read, it is really the other way round. If a book simply isn’t interesting, no amount of beauty, professionalism or glossiness in the cover will save it. At best, some people might buy the book simply for the cover image because it is so good and they can’t get the image anywhere else by itself. And when it comes to ebooks, of course, one can always just right-click and save the image and move on. The bottom line is that a story has to be good first. Only then might the cover image enhance it or act as a bonus. A good book does not need a gorgeous cover image or even any cover image at all to be enjoyed and valued, though it certainly helps to have one.

To some degree, cover images essentially play for adults the role that pictures play for children in children’s books. As we all know, people never completely lose their childlike nature. The difference of course is that while children require pictures throughout their books, adults require at least one: the one on the cover. And the less imaginative and more superficial a person is, the more they tend to value and rely on cover pictures. Still, as mentioned, a beautiful or interesting cover image can enhance one’s overall experience of a particular book, though it doesn’t mean that people cannot enjoy books without them. Even as a child, I remember reading hard-cover and leather bound books that had no cover images, and I doubt that my enjoyment of the stories would have been any less if they had had them. At the same time, there are certain books I read in which the cover images, for one reason or the other, certainly enhanced my enjoyment of them. It depended on the nature of the story.

And whenever we are too lazy to read the titles and blurbs of books (and I’m saying this tongue-in-cheek), we need cover images to give us information as to what the book is about or at least tell us something important that we can expect to find in the book. In this respect, the old adage that “a picture is worth a thousand words” becomes relevant. Of course, the information conveyed by the chosen image has to be as interesting and captivating as possible in order to maximize market competitiveness of the book.

It appears that what counts as aesthetically appealing or informatively stimulating in book covers tends to vary somewhat from one marketplace (i.e. society) to the other. According to this article: Why Book Covers are So Important

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Design principles are not the same the whole world over, leading to, for example, simpler designs on many UK covers, with more frequent use of negative space, and more detailed designs on US covers that cram in more imagery, potentially speaking to different cultural perceptions of “value for money.”

There appeared to be a demonstration of this fact sometime ago when I posted a link to a particular short book of mine on a certain forum and got some reactions to it. It was apparent that for some people, a simple image of a malevolent face in a dark background was no good and they seemed to consider nothing short of a hodgepodge of telltale images as being indicative of a good cover. At the same time, though, it’s not really clear just how much this was actually the factor. I say that because the unfortunate manner in which people had gotten to that link (due to the nature of the thread) had undoubtedly predisposed them into being overly judgmental and negative in their perception of the cover, and it is very doubtful that their perceptions of it would have been the same if they had seen it in different circumstances. One reason why I know this is the simple fact that I had shown the same cover to many people (some without even telling them I was the author) and not only did they not see any problem with it, but they even found it quite interesting and impressive. And these were people who were quite used to seeing ebook covers. I nevertheless politely refrained from expressing any disagreements since I knew that once people’s perceptions have been adversely shaped by context, there is not much you can do about it. I did nevertheless later change the title and blurb of the book in response to the reactions, though not for the reasons given.

To be clear, by no means am I suggesting that the cover could not be much better or of much higher quality. But what amazed me about the thread was the apparent tendency of some people to see any book cover that is short of glamorous as therefore ‘terrible’, as well as a seeming intolerance of any type of cover that doesn’t conform to a particular mould or trend. In fairness, though, it does make sense if what one is concerned with is a book cover’s ability to attract as much customers as possible and lead to sales. But even then, it seems that this is an example of what I take to be the fact that indie authors generally have an exaggerated perception of the importance of covers as well as misconceptions as to the psychological role they generally play and what makes them appealing or not.

The issue of ebook covers having to be “professional looking” is an interesting one. And it is one that is taken so much for granted by indie authors that it has become a law in itself. A professional looking cover is certainly a no-brainer as far as increasing or maximizing the market competitiveness and sales of a book is concerned. But the idea that it has to not look homemade in order for anyone to buy it is absurd. What really matters is that it is interesting and nice looking and conveys the right ideas to a potential buyer about the story. Of course, a cover should not look ugly or incoherent or that would turn many people off. But ebook readers are more tolerant of self-made books (including their covers) than most authors tend to think. They mainly want to be sure that they are not ripped off or their time is not wasted. Ultimately, what matters most is how much a book is marketed.

The argument typically used to support the idea is that “a professional looking cover is suggestive of a professionally written work of literature.” My addition of those two clarifying words “of literature” should make it more obvious than it otherwise would be that that argument is deeply nonsensical. First of all, the fact is that the vast majority of people with jobs – even part time jobs – can easily afford to invest $100 for a beautiful and professionally done cover that will make their precious and beloved book competitive. And that’s just being conservative. It actually isn’t difficult at all to get it for much less than that (as little as $20 for pre-made designs) if one looks around. That argument might have worked in the early days of indie publishing before authors caught on to the importance of great-looking covers for boosting sales. But the argument no longer works because now pretty much everyone is doing it – at least those who are serious about indie publishing and hope to make money off it. Therefore, a great looking cover hardly proves anything as far as the actual book is concerned.

Of course, the biggest danger in this type of thinking is that it would prevent otherwise talented authors who for one reason or the other cannot afford professionally designed covers from publishing and promoting their work. And it’s a ridiculous kind of restriction given that they are dealing with a literature market and not a market for posters.

There are a lot of indie authors who need to think about and remind themselves what the average ebook customer is shopping for at the end of the day. And they will realize that it is good (or great) stories. Remember: if they fall in love with your cover, they can always right-click and save. They don’t need to pay $3.99 for it.

The myth that writers cannot judge their own work

I would like to address one curious thing that I have been observing for the past couple of years since I took up interest in the world of online literature. Like many things in life that I notice that are transparently absurd and ludicrous but yet popular among many people (even supposedly educated and intelligent people), I’ve always kept quiet about it and largely ignored it. But now I find myself finally coming round to discussing it.

We’ve all seen this scenario: Someone (a writer or aspiring writer) expresses some degree of frustration or even surprise that a work of theirs has not been anywhere near as successful as they had hoped at all. Specifically, it could be surprise that it has been rejected by all the agents he/she has so far sent to. Or it could be surprise that it hasn’t sold well in the online marketplace. Or, alternatively, it could be based on rejection of the work by literary publications that he/she has contacted. And so on.

Now, in such a scenario, someone (in fact, usually far more than one person), is always bound to show up and mouth-off an expression of this very concept; that a writer cannot possibly judge the quality of his/her work and that therefore the work itself is very likely of poor quality even though he/she thinks it is of high quality.

In fact, I remember that someone made exactly this kind of response to me in a certain forum that I visited some years ago when I was concerned about a certain short book that I had published. The suggestion was that I thought it was good simply because I wrote it. I remember replying by pointing out that, contrary to this notion that he/she appears to be putting forth, I actually do not like everything that I write. Of course, I do like some (perhaps most) of what I produce. But there are times that I have hated what I produced and thought it was no good. Or sometimes, I might even send or publish something even though I have reservations about its quality and I’m not crazy about it at all. And I am sure that the very same applies to most, if not all, people who have substantially written either fiction or non-fiction. Thus, one tends to wonder where the people who make such responses are getting this idea from (that an author necessarily likes his work just because he wrote it). If my memory serves me correctly, the person never responded to what I pointed out, but just quietly slid away.

Nevertheless, playing Devil’s Advocate, one can still respond by saying “Yes, it is true that you do not always like what you write, nevertheless it is still the case that when it comes to the ones that you DO like, it is probably only because you wrote them and therefore your bias distorts your perception of them such that you think they are great when they are actually aren’t.”

Of course, there is the obvious question of why this severe-perception-distorting ‘bias’ tends to only work for some works but not others. But let’s leave that aside. The crucial thing to be addressed here is the notion of this alleged personal bias that so grotesquely distorts an author’s perception such that he or she somehow cannot see poorness of quality in a work (no matter how glaring) that they would normally easily see if it wasn’t theirs. A bias that likewise makes them to somehow see hallucinations of literary beauty, thrill and pleasure in a work that isn’t actually there.

Pay particular attention to that phrase “that they would normally see easily if it wasn’t theirs”. In other words, what we are been invited to believe is that an author who has a certain standard of literary appreciation is somehow unable to judge his/her own work even by his/her own standards!

At this point, you might notice that a different interpretation of the claim – one that has nothing to do with perceptual distortion – is simply that most people (be they agents, editors or the book consumer market) simply do not share the tastes of the author in terms of literary appreciation, style or flavor. Thus, it isn’t really a matter of ‘quality’ per se; it’s simply about tastes.

This particular interpretation of the claim is valid only in a sense that is misleadingly trivial. In other words, it is not only extremely trivial, but it is also erroneous in its underlying assumptions. Of course it is true that everyone does not always share the tastes of everyone else when it comes to art (novels, movies, songs and so on). Of course people have different ranges/collections of artistic tastes. But, at the same time, it is also the case that the tastes/appreciation of most human beings in any given society overlap or converge to a significant degree, and on some artistic works more than others. In fact, given a particular piece of artistic work, be it a song, a painting or a story, one can often predict quite successfully that it would be well enjoyed by most people. It just depends on how objectively good the thing is, however objective value might potentially be measured in artistic fields. It’s just one of those things that you just know it when you see it (or hear it). And it is extremely unlikely that anyone would feel that way about any piece of art if it wasn’t actually good. In cases, as we often see, where pieces of art that evoke that deep kind of certainty as to their quality or ability to provide enjoyment at a universal level somehow do not have any success in the marketplace, it is usually due either to lack of marketing or just being kept out by gatekeepers of the industry for whatever reason, as it often happens.

Yet, it should be noted that this particular interpretation (of the notion that authors are unable to judge the quality of their own work) is a bit of a red herring in the sense that it isn’t usually what people mean (or think they mean) when they say that and that they are really talking about the first one; the one about perceptual distortion.

One way to see this is to observe something that one also often notices in connection to this issue. It is another silly (and somewhat bizarre) statement that people commonly make during such interactions. Whenever the author (and note that this could also apply to music and other kinds of art) responds to the allegation that “you only believe it is good because your perception is biased due to your being the owner” by making the revelation that other people that he/she knows and has shown the work to have also expressed much interest in it and thought it was really good, the person making the allegation is always bound to follow it up by making the further claim that those people (who he presumes were friends or family of the author) were lying to the author to protect his/her feelings. This is another astonishing cliché that I have seen spouted many times over the years on the internet, usually in ways that are rather malicious and condescending. And, as with the first one, it is often spouted by supposedly ‘rational’ and ‘intelligent’ people.

First of all, one tends to wonder what kind of ‘friends’ the people who tend to say this have. What kind of ‘friend’ lies to you that something you have produced is “very good” or “wonderful” as opposed to simply telling you in a kind and respectful way that, though you tried (and the work has some good qualities), the work could nevertheless be better and try to offer constructive and helpful criticism? And, even if the person doesn’t want to be negative in any way, we are still left with the interesting question of: what kind of ‘friend’ would dramatize and act by feigning feelings of excitement, love, pleasure and delight for a piece of artwork when he/she actually feels no such thing regarding it? What kind of friend (or relative) acts like that?? In fact, who actually behaves like that? One can imagine behaving like that to a small child, but why on earth would they behave like that with an adult, or even a teenager, unless of course they are truly impressed with the work? Personally, the people I know in my own life will tell me flat out if they don’t like something I produced. Of course, they will also provide constructive criticism of it: and what more could an artist of any form want than that??

Much like the first notion (that authors are unable to judge the quality of their own work), it is the sort of thing that many people tend to say that superficially seems to them like it makes sense but is, in reality, absurd and ludicrous. Unfortunately, these kinds of popular-but-nonsensical notions are very common in human thought and behavior.

Thus, you can see that their tendency to make such an ancillary or follow-up claim shows that they are not really talking about the ‘taste’ version of the interpretation of the “authors can’t judge their own work” statement but rather they are referring to supposed cognitive distortions in one’s perception of quality. Another reason why it shows this is the fact that the claim or retort is sometimes expressed in the form of “friends and family members do not count”, in other words, insinuating that they too would suffer from the same tendency for cognitive/perceptual distortion that the author supposedly suffers from based on emotional bias.

And yet, the truth is that such cognitive distortion can only really happen in the mind of the author/artist himself or herself if such a thing even happens in the first place (and to the bizarre degree that these people seem to imagine). I mean, I very much doubt, for example, that there are many women who would think that their eight-year-old child is the second coming of Leonardo Da Vinci if he came back home from school with a painting that looked like dog vomit. Yet, this is the sort of scenario that we are implicitly invited to take seriously by such statements.

It’s important to note that even though most people are not really talking about ‘personal taste’ when they make this claim about authors been unable to evaluate their own work, and are really referring to quality, the personal taste version is nevertheless very much operative in their minds whether they know it or not. In other words, like most irrational notions that people hold, notions like this are due in large part to a tendency to muddle up and confuse different concepts in one’s mind. And, furthermore, in this particular case, there is one anchoring thing that tends to give this myth an appearance of validity that we will see. And it is something that actually has some truth to it, though not for the reason that a lot of people often suppose.

First, one possible way in which cognitive bias can admittedly distort the perception of an author of his/her work, at least in theory, is the fact that the author knows things about the story that the reader doesn’t. And that, of course, is because it came from the author’s own mind. Thus, it is (trivially) true that the author has a significantly different perception, or vantage point, of the story right from the onset than any other person who reads it in the sense that he/she has a more informed (insider’s) perception. It’s sort of like an insider’s secret, though one that doesn’t really matter, at the end of the day, as long as the ‘insider’ can mentally place himself/herself in the shoes of the ‘outsider’, as the human mind is easily capable of doing in such situations.

The reason why I bracketed the word “trivially” is not only because this trite fact is unavoidable in most forms of literature (as in ‘duh, what do you expect?’), but it is also because for that very reason, as well as what I said above, it doesn’t really matter and is rather irrelevant. The simple fact is that every author, even right down to child authors, know perfectly well (both consciously and subconsciously) while writing or crafting their stories that this is the case, and they write the stories (again, both consciously and subconsciously) taking full advantage of this fact and hoping to entertain readers precisely with it (among other things of course). And whenever a problem arises due to this fact, as I have often found, it is almost always due to the author overestimating the intelligence of most readers (or the intended reader). That is assuming, of course, that the author has worked diligently on the piece and reviewed it to his/her satisfaction so that there are no significant errors. This very same thing, of course, applies also to movies or stage plays, especially those with mystery elements.

But of course, no one will ever want to admit that they did not (fully) appreciate a piece of artwork due to them not being smart or insightful enough. Thus, it is much more fashionable to simply invoke stuff about perceptions and cognitive distortions or biases in the mind of the creator.

I remember one really good example of a case in which I myself could easily be accused of such perceptual bias, but in which I could just as easily point the blame to the other side. It was a certain flash fiction story that I once wrote in a sudden moment of inspiration, and then, several months later, after I had almost completely forgotten about it, decided to send it to a particular literary magazine. Though it was turned down, the editor was kind enough to write an appreciably detailed explanation in which his main criticism was that the main character was narrating his experience in a cold, dispassionate and analytical manner despite the fact that it was supposed to be a frightening experience, thus making it hard for the reader to feel the emotion of it.

Now, what surprised me about this was that I had assumed that the reason for this manner of narration would not only be obvious from the context, but that it would make perfect sense because the story was ultimately about superstition and irrational beliefs. Thus, the character’s dispassionate and analytical style of narration was supposed to serve as a kind of dramatic irony as well as a hint as to how he was changed by the experience. I kind of thought it would be obvious without having to be explicit about it! Yet, in fairness, I do not think it was so much the editor didn’t see that or ‘get it’, but rather that he did not think most of his readers would or he worried that they would be too puzzled by such a cold and unemotional manner of narration of a horror story, which would not fit in well with common conventions. In any case, I was very grateful for the critique I received (even though it did not change my opinion of the story).

The one last thing, which I hinted at earlier, that appears to lend credence to the ‘authors can’t judge their work’ belief is the simple and very well-known fact that an author supposedly always ‘needs’ an ‘extra pair of eyes’ to ascertain a finished piece of work. The reason(s) as to why exactly this is the case seem(s) to be just as confused, vague and muddled as the original notion itself. Is it because a different person would always have a better eye for literary quality than the author? Not likely. Or is it because the author needs to make sure that he/she is not the only one on the planet that would appreciate the story due to personal tastes? Again, doesn’t seem likely. Rather, the reason often heard is that the author is not in a good position to see errors in the work because he/she is ‘too involved with it’ (even though it is completed).

Though it is rare to see anyone actually elaborate on just what ‘too involved’ means in this context, one has to assume that it refers to mental fatigue (or cognitive overloading) with respect to the work given that authors are typically advised to ‘let it rest’ for some time before looking at the work again. Obviously, it cannot mean that the author is biased towards the work since the work would still be the author’s ‘baby’ even if he/she lets it rest for a whole year.

Yes, cognitive overloading and fatigue can negatively affect an author’s ability to see or notice errors, especially subtle errors, in his/her work. I think this is mainly true of proofreader type errors like typos. When it comes to deeper and structural errors, I believe that this factor only really tends to muddle or blur an author’s perceptions regarding the work as opposed to them outright not seeing such errors at all. I can’t imagine that he/she would later suddenly ‘discover’ such significant structural or narrative errors without having at least sensed them before, or sensing that the manuscript likely contains them. In any case, once their minds have rested, they have rested, and they can now go back to evaluating the work competently.

The point is that even this factor still does not justify the popular notion that an author can somehow be wholeheartedly convinced that a completed work of theirs is very good (and perfectly publishable) while in reality it is of bad quality (even by the author’s own standards). That is the very picture that this myth tends to promote, and it clearly has no real justification whatsoever.

There is a rather hilarious side note to all of this that I cannot resist mentioning. There is a certain author called Dean Wesley Smith who is fairly well known in the indie community and has a substantial fan base within this community. In his blogs, he often champions the principle of authors sticking to their guts, trusting their own instincts and never deferring to (or even seeking) the opinion of so-called ‘beta readers’ for anything other trivial errors or typos. And this is something I tend to agree with him about.

But then, it might amaze you to know that the very same man, in the very same blogs, though in different articles, often encourages this silly myth about authors somehow not being able to evaluate their own work by throwing around a phrase, which he coined, that says:

“An author is the worst judge of his/her own work.”

In fairness, he usually makes this statement in the context of pointing out that a story/manuscript that an author thinks is bad or simply doesn’t like could potentially be appreciated by someone else. Thus, it is a way of encouraging authors to complete whatever they write and publish or send it regardless of how they feel about it.

That being said, throwing around a phrase like that is still a ridiculous and laughably self-contradictory way of trying to make such a point. It also goes back to the trivial fact that I earlier mentioned: that of course people have widely different tastes. And, thus, it shouldn’t be too surprising that there will be stories that an author writes and doesn’t like but that many others will like, just as there will also be stories that the author likes that many others will not.

Incidentally, it is worth noting that ‘discovery writing’, which is the style of writing that Dean champions, is often spoken of as a process in which the author is essentially in the same position as the reader, i.e. ‘discovering’ the story along with the reader. Thus, strangely and ironically, it would seem to negate many of the assumptions that cause people to think that an author’s mind would be biased or distorted into not seeing the story like others would see it.

The only problem that I see with so-called ‘discovery writing’ is the way in which it is often fallaciously contrasted with the process called ‘outlining’. I’ve noticed that when most writers talk about ‘pantsing’ a story, they are talking about doing it in a rough manner such that they have the intention of doing further drafts. But that is really essentially no different from what extensive outliners do, especially if the ‘pantser’ already had ideas about the story beforehand. And this is because ALL writing involve discovery. As far as I’m concerned, the only true kind of ‘pantsing’ is what I call “one draft pantsing”: The process whereby the writer writes the story from start to finish in a careful and meticulous manner without any intention whatsoever of making any changes and without knowing what is going to happen in the story until it happens. It is only in this way that a writer truly discovers a story exactly in the way other people read it. Incidentally, this is exactly what I used to do when I started out writing, and it is how I wrote most of my earlier stories. I didn’t even know that there was any such thing as ‘second drafts’!

Anyway, that’s all I will say about this issue. Thanks for your time.

Why people take fiction seriously?

 

I remember many years ago, back when I was a little kid, watching the scene in Splash where the young Tom Hanks explains to a weeping Darryl Hannah that the television movie she is watching which is making her cry is just…a movie.

“There’s no need to cry. The person didn’t really die. It’s just fiction.”

I am paraphrasing of course, but you get the point.

But did it really matter? I remember another time many years later when I was in college getting involved in a very passionate and heated debate about the ending of a movie we had just seen (which we found rather controversial). At one point, a certain guy who was getting tired of the noise we were making impatiently snapped at us that it’s just a damn movie. But we ignored him and kept on arguing.

If this happens with movies, it is even more true of novels, especially novels that are well written and thus impossible not to take seriously. I was frothing in anger for weeks about something that deeply annoyed me within the story of a Stephen King novel that I read when I was a teenager. Even telling myself repeatedly that “it’s just a made-up story” did nothing at all to sooth me or make the pain go away.

So why do people tend to take fiction stories seriously even when they know that they are made up?

There’s an insightful answer to the question provided by a renowned literary author on a youtube video. He explains that people see ‘truth’ in fiction. But it isn’t the factual or historical kind of truth; rather it is one of emotional or experiential truth. In other words, what happens in fiction stories is a reflection of our human reality which we readily recognize.

I tend to view the answer to the question at a slightly different angle, one which might be even more explorative and expansive on the explanation we already have. As I outline in a different article ‘Where do stories come from’, I personally tend to view fiction stories as existing in a parallel universe – or parallel universes – from ours. I think what lies deep at the heart of the tendency for us to take fictive stories seriously is the concept of reality itself and its ambiguity.

It has long been a fundamental and universally recognized solipsistic truth in philosophy that the only thing that each of us can really be sure exists – or is ‘real’ – is our own subjective conscious experience. We cannot know with absolute certainty that what we perceive everyday around us of the ‘external world’ really exists. In this sense, the line between the events we perceive in our ‘external world’ and those that are presented in fiction stories are quite blurred. Sure, we can say that the ‘real’ external world affects or potentially affects our physical reality. But what about the parts of it that don’t and never do? What about those parts of the ‘real’ world that are not affecting our reality at least in any way that is perceptible or even conceivable to us? What about, for example, a tiny event – like the rolling of a small solid mass – that happens in a different galaxy millions of light years away. If it doesn’t affect our own reality in any way, does that mean it isn’t real?

And what about events that happen in other (possible) universes in a larger multiverse which can never interact with ours?  Are they not ‘real’?

The point is that, for all we know, the events of a fiction story might as well have happened or can happen at some point in the boundless history of the universe. As long as it is rationally conceived, it might as well be real. Deep down, people see that, even if they don’t consciously think of it that way. The only thing that matters as to whether it can be taken seriously or not is its logical coherency. And the ‘logic’ here isn’t merely about the mechanical logic set by the laws of the physical world. In fact, it isn’t necessarily about that for the laws in some cases could be slightly different from ours. More importantly, it’s about the logic of human nature as well as other sentient creatures that play a part in whatever story we are presented with.

Thus, when we get emotional over a work of fiction, it’s largely because we know that it is real in an important sense. It may not be ‘real’ in the sense of being a historical fact. But it is real in a timeless sort of way; in a way in which our strict day-to-day understanding of the four dimensions of the immediate surroundings of our ‘external world’ are no longer relevant. And sometimes, as casual spectators, we may like or dislike certain aspects of reality being presented to us and thereby colliding and interacting with our own internal conscious universe.

All in all, it means that fiction will always have its place in the human heart and in our world. And that, for most writers (and film makers), is a good thing.

The Journey Begins

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton