There are so many important topics I love reading about. Heists, mental illness, love, family, overthrowing corrupt governments. So, why do I choose to write about fluff?
The reason is simple: Fluff is fun.
I am not one to trivialize matters. I definitely think the world’s issues should be highlighted in fiction.
Yet when I sit down to write down the worries, the terrified thoughts, and the reality of… well, everything, I am blocked. You see there is this thing in my mind called Depression. I don’t control it but unfortunately it controls me. Think of it as a parasite (Venom is much more preferable than depression, Eddie!) that refuses, for a single day, to give me a break.
Depression’s issue with reality is that it thinks it needs some spicing up. It creates worse situations (a challenge of its own) and makes me, the poor person hosting it, suffer. Not to say that Depression is all powerful. Many things conquer Depression for a while. Hugs, the feel of my cats’ paw against my cheek, milk tea laced with saffron, my friends’ laughter at a vine reference, and fluff.
You read that right. Fluff.
Writing a scene where no complications are allowed in has become a new line of defense against Depression.
So, I invite you. If you’re also trying to give Depression a new toy to distract it, to keep it quiet, try creating a character and… let them go have ice-cream. Maybe they are offered a free scoop of their favorite flavor. A cat (or dog) walks up to them and snuggles to their leg. See how this scene makes you feel.
Did it manage to quiet the world a little?
To me, writing fluff isn’t about it being inconsequential or simply sweet; it’s an act of rioting against what is telling me to stop and quit. Giving characters I carefully grew in my mind and on page the soft and caring moments of life has become more than just a hobby. It’s become a way of feeling good.