I don’t like the idea that what I write is the product of what I read, or what I watch, or the childhood I had, because that makes all these works I produce little more than the end product of a causal chain, and that removes the determinism from me.
If I have no agency in my work then what is the point? Sure, you might say that everyone, just by virtue of possessing different perceptual apparatus, is going to have a different experience, but I am not interested in a notion of human beings reduced to this sequential push from a mute and godless universe.
Mankind didn’t kill god with no notion that man wouldn’t fill the vacuum with himself, or some other consciousness driven mechanism to drive the universe onward Well, maybe. But the idea that the clock will wind down and we will have no input into our own fate seems unreal to me. That I can create what I can suggests to me that if one version of the universe becomes the dead light of fading stars that new stars will be born. I have to believe this. James Joyce left us Ullyses to rebuild Dublin – there are a lot of writers building similar maps.