(Recipe here)I don't talk much about writing in this venue. Mainly it's because I use this arena to talk about things I wouldn't normally discuss in my fiction.
That said, I've been seeing a fair amount of discussion of fantasy (and, perhaps, SF) as an imaginary environment somehow more satisfying than the real thing. I've heard people discuss on line environments, such as Second Life, similarly.
Experimentation is fun and cool-- especially on the internet where no one knows you're a dog-- and fiction of all sorts is a means of projecting yourself into a new environment. My Mom used to say that every book is a life and reading a book adds that life to your own. So, the more you read, the more lives you have lived.
That said, I have to say I am irretrievably connecting with the waking life. I like reality. Fiction is a working laboratory where people are your lab rats but it is no substitute for the dirty stink of reality. I don't even use a music player, iPod or otherwise, when I ride the subway or walk outside. Give up on the noise? Heck, have you ever listened to people on the subways or talking on their cell phones? I've sat next to deaths, births and divorces, car wrecks and proposals. How could anybody give that up?
Fiction is not reality, regardless of how the two are blurred in our celebrity culture. For me, fiction doesn't serve to escape reality but to examine it.
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