Over the weekend, I chatted with a friend about the "Occupy Wall Street" protests, and we both agreed it reminded us of the French Revolution.
I proposed the question: Who do you think will say, "Let them eat cake"? (You know, Marie Antoinette's infamous response when she was told, "The people have no bread"?)
Supposedly that's a journalistic cliche, and the beheaded French queen never actually said those words.
As for who'll demonstrate his/her cluelessness today, I like to think it'll be one of those Kardashians.
But perhaps that's the writer in me.
My guy friends have always played the "when The Revolution starts" game whenever another of our friends does anything militia-ish (like purchases a big truck or moves to a remote location or mentions owning a gun).
Example: "We'll all be in so-in-so's barn with the gun collection when The Revolution starts." (laughs)
I don't actually know anyone with a gun collection, but I have been pondering my lack of fire-starting skills. The last time I thought of it when I watched that Tom Hanks movie where he was trapped on that island.
You know, in Castaway. I'dve never got that fire going.
To bring all this nervous laughter around to writing, I was also thinking this weekend about how popular dystopain fiction has become.
How did everyone know to start writing about the end of the world as we know it about two years ago?
I've never been one of those writers who tries to capture "Our Times," but here's my question: Is it possible our writing is always marked by what's going on around us?
Like, even if we're spinning tales of romantic comedy, are they still laced with the meltdown of the global economy? Or something else?
I do know when the Revolution starts I'll be headed South. Those country boys can survive, and they all seem to know how to get a good fire going.
Have a great week, reader- and writer-friends. Stay safe. Til Thursday~ <3