A few years ago, in my day job as a graphic designer, I created a holiday mailer for some clients. The message was unoriginal but to the point:
“Peace on Earth ~ Good will toward men.”
One client refused the piece. Said the message was inflammatory. I almost choked. Choked the client, I mean.
So much for peace.
This time of year always gets me thinking about the Holy Land and how peace there (and everywhere — Somalia, Georgia, Washington D.C.) seems so far away. And maybe hopeless. We’re such violent little monkeys in our hearts. Even in our entertainment, we seek out conflict — the more Bruckheimerly explosive the better. As a writer, I plot endlessly with other writers to create black moments, post-coital horrors and cliffhanger scene endings. We discuss chasing our characters up trees… and then throwing rocks at them. Because a peacful story would be BOOOOOring. Heck, I wouldn’t read it.
My only consolation is that I’m a romance writer. For all the death, despair and destruction I wreak in my stories (picture raging author/Godzilla marauding through imaginary world) I will swear to you, at the end, I will give you peace, love and understanding.
At least until Book 2.