Why I Make People Up
And who I’d invite for dinner
I have been making people up since I was 3 feet tall.
Some of them were my friends. Some not.
Some of the people who lived in my head were better than those I knew in real life. Some weren’t. But over the years, I’ve channelled this creativity into fiction writing. I’ve created princesses, CEO’s, bodyguards, detectives with a troubled past and mercenaries. I’ve created a team of anti-domestic terrorist specialists that are unlike anyone I know in real life. They know their way around evidence, the internet, hair-raising situations, bombs and picnics. They kick-ass. They’ve been tortured, lied to and shot at. They are complex “people” that I’d love to invite to dinner.
You might be wondering why I don’t just look for interesting real people to talk with. In my experience, most people just aren’t as fascinating as my characters. Most people don’t know how to listen, they just wait for a pause in a conversation and jump in with their own thoughts. Most people don’t know how to get themselves out of a bad commitment, let alone a sticky situation.
I’m not saying there’s no good in the world, I’m sure there is. But it seems that for whatever reason, there aren’t as many thinkers anymore. There are fewer people who can do amazing things with steel wool, a battery and chewing gum. How many folks do you know surround themselves with interesting people? How many read books that make them think and consider the world around them? How many people ask “How can I help?”
So, I make up people that have morals I can admire. That have been through hell and back, and can still see the good in the world. I write admirable people doing something with their lives. I write the people I’d invite to a dinner party.
I’d invite Barack Obama too, but I’m pretty sure he’s busy.
