Power
My crit group is, I think, getting a new trial member this week. So it's a good point in my work-in-progress (which is divided into two--possibly three--distinct parts) to bring my revisions from all of "Book I" over the next couple of meetings. And one of the elements that my revision has to have is an increasing menace from a Halliburton-like mega corporation, unseen in most ways, but rapidly gaining total power.
And as I'm working through this, I realize how much my own feelings about institutions and power weave through it. And for that I am grateful to my father.
It's an odd thing in an overwhelmingly Judeo-Christian American society to be raised by an atheist. It colors how I feel about prayer in school, "moments of silence," even the pledge of allegiance. And since he has very, very strong feelings about corruption in religion (and government), I was raised to distrust any church, any priest or minister, and even more, the people who hypocritically stood behind the robes, finger-pointing in judgment. It reminds me of the scene in A Christmas Carol when the Ghost of Christmas Future pulls his robes back and reveals Want and Ignorance--the starving children beneath his robes.
My father believed in education . . . but not blindly. I was never to take a lecture or lesson at face value. Confirm things myself. Dig deeper into history. I was revisionist before revisionism was in textbooks. Question all power.
And don't even get started on government, the military, and certain presidents.
Now that I am somewhat grownup, I wish I could say that powerful people and institutions have proven my father wrong. I don't know WHY I wish that, since it's hopelessly naive. But I can't say they ever have. And I wish I could say that the people who lurk behind the robes have proven me wrong, but they never have either. In fact, at least powerful people are often unafraid to be perceived as the ruthless souls they are . . . the rest often wear masks of banality as they cater to the wishes of the real power. Lock-step. Lemmings.
So I find myself weaving dark themes in my novel . . . frightening ones, based on how I perceive power. I find myself seeing the themes emerging--which it a totally cool part of the writing process. I am revisiting Orwell. Big Brother . . . he's watching.
And I see two levels of conflict. The personal ones my characters face. And a larger conflict with the way the world is constructed.
Thoughts? Anyone else have wips with a fight against something WAY bigger than a mere character?
