Why write fiction? It's a question that's been on my mind a lot lately. Sometimes I feel like I'm trying to master an ancient craft, little appreciated, lacking mass interest. Just ten years ago I could be in a coffee shop or just standing in a line to pay a utility bill (usually late) and almost everybody had a book in their hand. I was recently in such a line, with about fifteen other people and with the exception of myself, no one was reading. Books have been replaced with electronic devises, little windows into an entire world of time killing mediocrity. It would give me some peace of mind if one or two of the folks in line with me were enjoying an eBook, but as I scanned the tiny screens around me, emitting bleeps, just over the tapping sounds of fast moving thumbs, I could see that wasn't the case. Cell phone games, texting and checking the latest FaceBook post from people they most likely have never met, seems to occupy the majority of people's free time. Free time that used to be spent enjoying a good book.
Speaking of free time, here is something I created with some of mine - in between reading and writing.