There is no free will

Free will is an illusion. The illusion itself is the foundation of our society, and the foundation which allows us to carry on as individuals. Society is founded upon the presupposition that we have free will, and even goes out of its way to defend that; acknowledging, for example, situations in which our actions are not under our control, be it influenced chemically through some form of intoxication, or a more general mental disorder, giving rise to leniency when laws are broken under these situations. Maybe a punishment is less severe. Maybe insanity is pleaded, leading to incarceration in a mental institution.

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The days are getting longer. As I write, the light glimmers around the edge of the office curtains, encroaching on my intimate, me-and-the-pc-monitor, private time. I like the darkness. It's a warm blanket, but more importantly, a blank sheet; a void to fill with my ideas. I can truly withdraw into my writing.

But soon, the garden, and my laptop, will be calling me. Perhaps I'll sit at the garden table with it, and write there, in the open. There can be no letting up. Neon Sands is out and doing quite well. Nice reviews. And Plains of Ion is on preorder. And it needs finishing. Luckily, the story is a great one, with characters I'm enjoying bring to life. The plains are wide and expansive. Maybe I should sit outside to write them, rather than here in my box.

When not writing, I have been attending an Arcade Fire gig (exceptional), and reading Mortal Engines by Philip Reeve (so far, so intriguing, even if I do seem to have unknowingly taken one of his plot twists to use in Neon Sands. Great minds and all that, hopefully).