I have a love-hate relationship with reality. For as long as I can remember I’ve felt like I was on the outside of life looking in. One morning I’ll wake up to find it wasn’t real and was all just a learning experience. I think that’s what draws me to the idea that we all exist in a virtual simulation. It just makes sense to me, though that might be my way of coping with where I see our species headed.
I don’t really believe we are in the mind of a computer but not for the reason that it sounds fantastical. A lot of stuff science-fiction authors come up with later becomes reality. I hate to say it, but I find reality boring. I know life is what I make it. I’m not blaming anyone. But life never holds my attention for long. Given the opportunity, I slip away into one of my fantasies. Reality pokes me for attention: get the computer fixed, the roof is leaking, clean up after the dogs. And I do love my walks with D and playing with the pups. But in any given day I doubt I spend more than a handful of hours focused on the here and now. And typically those hours are rather frustrating. I suppose that’s why I’m drawn so forcefully to writing. I try to give my characters interesting things to do, mysteries to solve, and people to get to know and love. Experiences I probably shy away from all too often. I try to take playing god to my imaginary people seriously.