At this time it feels like reality has overtaken anything fiction can credibly produce. A killer virus; world economies on the brink of a collapse not seen in anyone’s lifetime; liberal governments becoming authoritarian, while autocratic rulers seize their perfect opportunity for increasingly draconian measures. Could any speculative writer have seriously considered this scenario?
Well maybe I’m watching too much news that can seem to revel in the drama, if not totally ignoring the positives such as how communities have rallied round.
While out for my permitted hour’s exercise, there was something post-apocalyptic about the town. Bonfire smoke clouded the otherwise clear air. (Bonfires are more common these days.) A strange quietness and calm had descended. A serenity even, away from the town square, in the bright sun. Life slowed down.
Maybe the world needs to be broken apart before it can be reconstructed, goes one line of thinking; force change to save the planet.
But now, like surely many fiction writers, I face a dilemma. Do I try to keep on my original track – as patchy as it is – if only to be consistent? Or be influenced by such an important moment in history?