A Little Less Real, A Little More Escape...

I like to escape. When I read and when I write.

In these troubled times, and even in good times since the media seems hell-bent on making sure we have our daily dose of depression, I think escaping is important. When you turn on the news, you get an overload of death, dying, swindling, scandal, disasters, and wife-beating—enough to fill even the most optimistic of us with weltschmerz . If you aren’t on Prozac before the press messes with your day, you’ll be poppin’ ‘em like M & Ms after.

Granted, we need to keep up with world events and educate ourselves on the sick people of this world for our and our loved ones’ protection. But do we need a constant bombardment of bad? Is it healthy? I doubt it. If it were, cases of anxiety disorders and depression wouldn’t be sky-rocketing.

Enough, enough, enough.

We need a little adventure, a little fantasy. No, not a little, a lot of it. We need to believe for at least a short time that heroes exist and all our problems are solvable. We need the release a horror novel can provide, a place to contain the monsters. We need the soaring love and happily ever after of a romance tale. We need to best the dragons in our fantasy novels and in our real lives. Reading genre fiction can provide that escape, I believe. I have always loved superheroes, yet by the same token love to be scared with a good ghost story, because I know it isn’t real and I can let out the breath I was holding while reading it, living it in my mind.

In everyday life it seems all too often you can’t let that breath out. You have to hold it until your head pops.

That’s not to say our fiction can’t and shouldn’t deal with real issues. My second Nightmare Club book The Deadly Dragon helps kids confront the anger spawned by spousal abuse…but in a way that entertains and gives them a sense of hope and overcoming.

Of course, some people seem stuck looking at the gloomy side of things and like to read more about it, because it solidifies their worldview, and whatever made them see life through soot-smeared glasses.

I do not. I think my readers don’t either. I have had enough of tragedy and woe. I want, for at least a few hours, to run away to a world where love and hope and good prevail. I like helping my gal Chloe chase down a few supernatural Big Bads and running around chasing ghosts in New Salem with The Nightmare Club. I also like to fly with Superman (don’t try that in real life without a cape, folks).

I like to escape. Anyone want to go with me?