novel to film pipeline

The gradual downfall of the novel has been coming for years, and the age of generative AI is set to exacerbate that even further, as more and more platforms get flooded with AI junk, that, by definition, is derivative.

AI tools can only draw on existing data sources, so what you’re going to get is a regurgitation of things that have come before. Now, you could argue that, based on influences, everything is a reimagining of things that have come before it. But AI content is literally a reinterpretation of whatever inputs it has.

Match the declining quality (in broad terms) with a less engaged reading public (scrolling their phones when they have time instead of turning to books), and that sets a clear path for the decline of the novel. Which is why fewer literary works are selling, and we’re seeing fewer and fewer breakout literary sensations as a result.

But there is another impact here that’s less discussed, in the decline of films being adapted from books.

It used to be that new arthouse films would come out every other week, based on this or that novel. But these days, the only films getting a cinema release are big screen action stories, things that have been designed for large screen viewing, as opposed to being watched at home.

Which makes sense. These days, home cinema set-ups largely replicate the cinema experience for films that don’t rely on special effects, and no one’s buying tickets to movies that don’t have some sense of cinematic experience. But that also puts less emphasis on rights sales, and less opportunity for publishers to make money from selling books to filmmakers, which further reduces the impetus for them to concentrate on this element.

The hope had been that Netflix’s local content deals would revive this to some degree, and give more local authors an opportunity to see their literary works on the big screen. But that hasn’t happened. Netflix films are bad, with almost every one I’ve seen basically collapsing in on itself in the third act. Netflix has sought to give directors free reign to create what they want, but either their script selection hasn’t been up to scratch, or the directors need more oversight, as there are just not that many breakout hits in the app.

And that’s not just my opinion. Netflix released 589 originals in 2024, with 79 of them being films.

How many of them do you recall?

On average, Netflix productions receive lower audience ratings. Yet this is the key source of content, with Netflix being the biggest digital distributor, outside of YouTube (which doesn’t produce films) at present.

So again, the book-to-movie timeline has now been altered, to the point that this is not a viable or valuable pathway for most authors or publishers. Which reduces your opportunities even more, and hastens the fall of the novel.

In other words, if you want to get published these days, major publishers have less and less motivation to back your work, as the opportunities for monetization, through direct sales and rights deals, are reducing day by day.

what does good writing mean in 2025?

This is a question that I’ve considered a lot – is good writing the peak of literary form, as in the construction of beautiful sentences, the creation of vivid worlds, the expression of emotion within paragraphs, all based on honed skill? Or is good writing what sells, and thus, defined more by what grabs attention and holds it? Which, based on modern sales numbers, would be more cliche, action romance-style content?

Because to me, great writing is writing that conveys real emotion. Great authors are able to recreate the emotional sense of the scene that they’ve imagined within the body of the reader, making reading a novel the closest thing we have to viewing the world through the eyes of somebody else. The setting, the concept, the idea that you’re exploring, all of this needs to be exuded through the words that you choose, and the specific placement of each verb needs to add to the broader picture, and draw out the emotion of each scene.

This is the pursuit of all great writers, and yet, I would argue that some of the best writers on this front likely wouldn’t sell many copies in the current literary landscape.

Does that mean that this is no longer ‘good’ writing? Is good writing defined by the market? By the readers? Or is good writing based on the sense that the writer gets from creating it?

It’s hard to define, and success, of course, is relative. I once wrote a kids’ book series for my own children, with the idea being that it would expand upon literary concepts and mechanisms as each book went on. So by the third book, we have more metaphor, while the first is more expository and flat. The idea, in my head at least, was that this would open their eyes to literary and storytelling devices, and that would help them create better stories of their own.

Maybe that worked, but then again, if other readers don’t have the same understanding, does that even matter?

If you want to sell books, then more straightforward, escapist stories are doing better right now. The reading public has less time to commit to a novel, so they’re more likely, seemingly, to engage with books that go from point-to-point, in quick succession, with driving, fast-paced narratives that don’t require a lot of considered thought.

This is a generalisation, of course, as there are still some novels that gain traction that do require more analysis and questioning. But I’ve literally been told by some within the publishing industry that as a middle-aged male author, I need to be concentrating on thrillers and fast-paced stories, as opposed to literary fiction.

Because that’s what sells, and as such, should those teaching writing courses be focused on what would be considered good, artistic writing that explores the virtues of the characters, and encourages deeper thought, or should we all sign up for the next action thriller workshop, and concentrate on reimagining James Bond stories in modern settings?

I don’t know the answer, but I can tell you that many great literary works are sitting on hard drives, never to be read, because the market is just not interested in them at present.

And maybe, with short-form video swallowing up all of our leftover attention spans, there’s no way back for more considered, literary works.

cancel culture

One time, I shot myself in the foot with my opinions on writing culture, and sparked significant backlash among the Australian literary community online, by commenting on something that clearly struck a nerve.

Though that wasn’t my intention.

What happened is, I’d read a piece which discussed the literary journal ‘Overland’ adding a checkbox on one of its short-story writing competition forms which enabled entrants to signal if they were of Aboriginal or Torres Straight Islander descent. In my own subsequent post about this, I suggested that this was not how literary competitions should work, as the background of the author isn’t relevant in this context, because what matters is the quality of the work, and if this information is required, that suggests that the assessment and judgement of the competition may not be about the work itself, but could factor in these other elements.

This was not well received by a literary community that’s very keen to prop-up marginalized voices. And while it wasn’t my intention to go against this, I was pretty quickly tagged as a racist, middle-aged, out-of-touch white author for my ignorant opinions on the topic.

But the point remains, regardless of what nationality or marker you actually include in such forms. If there was a box that let you indicate that you’re white, you’re Asian, that you’re gay, that you’re a person who supports Gaza, the actual indicator itself is irrelevant in a writing competition. The fact that the organizers were collecting this informaton suggested to me that it could play some role in the judging process, which, in my opinion, goes against the fundamental purpose of any skill-based judgement, in that it should be a celebration of the work itself, not anything else.

What I didn’t know at the time (and what the Overland team told me after publishing) was that a lot of people apparently enter these competitions with stories that are written from the perspective of, say, an Indigenous person, when they are not in fact Indigenous. As such, Overland was keen to avoid publishing stories written by non-Indigenous people that may misrepresent the Indigenous experience. Doing so also takes away opportunities from marginalized voices, and while I was surprised that there would be a significant number of writers doing this, I opted to remove my post that was critical of Overland’s approach, based on my lack of understanding of this perspective.

And it’s an interesting consideration. As noted, I hadn’t thought that this would be a major problem, but essentially, what the Overland team was trying to do was to protect marginalized voices from misappropriation, not use that indicator as a means to judge the competition differently.

The experience underlined to me, once again, that there’s a lot that people who don’t experience racism don’t understand about such within Australian culture, and that it’s extremely difficult to contextualize the impact without that first-hand experience.

We hear about things like this all the time, from subtle racism in sports, to subtle sexism in the workplace, and we’re often blind to such, simply because it’s always been that way. Definitely, growing up in regional Victoria, I experienced a lot of racist attitudes, which would be exchanged as common language, and would not be challenged in any way. These were just regular jokes and remarks, shared among regular folk, that you would hear every other day.

Yet, at the same time, my instinct is that Australia isn’t a racist country, but when you think back to all the things that you’ve heard and seen on this, across all of your years in school, in sports, out in public, maybe it is a bigger problem than you realize, and maybe there is a stronger undercurrent of racism than we actually want to acknowledge or accept.

Ultimately, the experience, which was confronting for me, as it quickly snowballed into a key topic of discussion among Auslit circles for a day or so, showed me that this is not an area that I should be commenting on, as I simply don’t have the understanding to hold an informed opinion on why such an approach might be necessary. So it’s better for me to shut up and try to understand what I can, as opposed to making assumptions.

But it was a good prompt for more self evaluation, in seeking to understand more about others’ perspectives.

Meanjin

It’s pretty sad to see Meaniin being shut down, given the significance that it holds within the Australian literary landscape. 

Meanjin, for those unaware, is arguably the peak literary journal in Australia, and has presented a long-running showcase of some of the top talent in the region. Founded in 1940, Meanjin has been the kicking off point for many great writers, and has helped them connect with an array of new readers. And for many authors, it has also provided ballast within the ever-challenging literary waters, in giving them a means to find community, find voice, and set the standard for literary exploration.

But now, its publishers, the (indirectly) government-funded Melbourne University Press (MUP), have decided to end Meanjin, due to poor sales.

Or more specifically (as per MUP Chair Professor Warren Bebbington):

“The decision was made on purely financial grounds, the board having found it no longer viable to produce the magazine ongoing.”

So low sales, which no longer justify MUP’s investment in the publication. Which, given that it’s funded by Melbourne University, which recieves significant government funding, is questionable, particularly when measured against its broader cultural impact, while it’s also notable that the Australian government’s currently seeking new ways to better fund arts projects through its Creative Australia initiative, which has a dedicated (yet strikingly bare) writing specific element that, presumably, would be able to assist in supporting key platforms like Meanjin. But to be clear, the call on this did not involve the government, it’s the MUP board that has made the decision.

It’s disappointing, but it’s also not a huge surprise. The Australian literary sector has been decaying for years, with fewer people willing to commit the time and mental energy into more complex, challenging narratives, thus impacting literary sales, and re-shaping the book industry.

Like all forms of entertainment, books are fighting a losing battle against social media for attention, and literary fiction has arguably suffered the most. Which, reflecting market demand, means that many great books are not being published, and many great writers are simply not getting the opportunities they once would have. At the same time, some authors are also reforming their creative approach in order to fit into the modern market, so they can make a career out of the opportunities that remain.

The end result is a less vibrant literary ecosystem, and a less engaging literary community, which ultimately means a smaller audience for all books, and a more limited scope of concepts and ideas. The loss of Meanjin will only compound this, by giving us one less outlet for high quality writing, and one less entry point for emerging writers looking to test their skills, and find a path into book publishing.

For me, Meanjin was always a lofty goal, a benchmark to prove my literary talent. I submitted a few times, never got published (understandable, considering the names I was competing against for space), but I did make it into many other literary journals and magazines, all of which helped to assure me that I did have the talent, and that I could pursue writing as a career. 

That’s the role such publications serve. Sure, Meanjin was a showcase of the best published authors of the day, but it was also open to submissions from nobodies, people who hoped to get their name out there, and in front of a knowledgeable audience. It was a badge of honor, a prize in itself, and a lifeline for every writer who’s creating in isolation and hoping for their big break. Meanjin was part of the architecture of what had been a consistently over-performing Australian literary industry. And without it, our writing culture will be worse off, in a significant way. 

Which is pretty disheartening, and for aspiring writers, it’s a big blow, in an increasingly challenging writing landscape.

Does that mean that you should abandon your literary dreams, or maybe change what you write for market fit?

Look, there’s always going to be a level of market consideration in any writing, as you need to create stories that are going to resonate with an audience if you ever want to generate sales and make money from your work. But should you abandon literary fiction as a result of the current state?

I would say that you should write what resonates with you, and what best reflects what makes you excited about literature, in the style that you feel best enables you to communicate what you want to say. If you write a story in a style that fits, as you want to tell it, then you’ll feel it as you’re writing. And when you come back to it later, and read what you’ve written, if it then still feels like what you wanted it to be, like something that you’d like to read, then that’s the right voice, the right style, and that’s how you get to the creative expression that best represents your perspective.

Basically, it’s easy to be negative, and if you do choose to take a negative view of things, you’ll find that there’s no end to the indicators that will reinforce that view. That literature is in trouble, that your opportunities are gone, that you have no chance of ever being published. There are far more reasons to avoid a literary career, and if you choose to see things from that perspective, every story like this will underline it even more.

But if you choose to remain true to your passion, to the writing that you love, to the stories that you want to tell, the characters, the settings, etc. If you stay true, then you’ll be on a better path to personal satisfaction and exploration, which, in all probability, is also more likely to reach an audience. 

It’s also worth noting that your personal perspective cannot be replicated. The way that you see things, the way you interpret them, no other person will view things the same, which means that they also can’t subsequently communicate things the way that you can. And if you can hit that resonant frequency, where all of these creative elements align, that’s where the truly great works come from. And you can’t do that without creating in the style that speaks to you.

So while the loss of another literary opportunity is disheartening, it’s not the end of all opportunities. And eventually, readers will come back around. Eventually, publishers and producers will once again realize the true value of great writing, which tools like AI can’t replace, and things will shift.

As a writer, I would advise that your job is to find the voice of your story, and explore that until you feel like you’ve got it right.  

establish the rules of your world

I hated the most recent Star Wars films. Not ‘Rogue One’ or ‘Solo’, those were fine, while I really liked ‘The Force Awakens.’ But ‘The Last Jedi’ is, in my opinion, one of the worst films of all time, based on what Rian Johnson had to work with, and what he created as a result.

It’s also the perfect example of the need for definitive rules in world-building, and establishing parameters for your story. It doesn’t matter if it’s a fantasy novel or sci fi, or whatever else, you need to have rules, otherwise there are no stakes.

Because if anything is possible, then nothing really matters.

‘The Last Jedi’ exemplifies this, because it breaks several major rules that have been long established in the Star Wars universe, most notably in regards to Jedi powers which don’t exist. 

Luke Skywalker can’t astral project himself across the galaxy. If Jedi are able to do that, why would they ever need to appear in person, and put themselves at risk? Why would they need holographic communications devices if they can somehow do even better, projecting themselves in even higher resolution, simply by meditating? 

Jedi can’t see, via some unknown form of connection, what another person is seeing. Because again, they surely would have used this by now, it would have surely been linked to the strength of their personal connections, and we’d have seen it happen in another context.

Princess Leia can’t fly through space.

Of course, people will argue that none of what happens in Star Wars is real, so they can write in anything they want. But this is the point I’m making – you need to establish the rules of your world, otherwise nothing matters, and all sense of emotional connection in the story is lost. 

Characters randomly coming back from the dead, things happening that are totally out of character, failing to establish a logical progression to explain a significant shift. These will all kill your story’s credibility, and lose your audience as a result. 

Things can’t just happen, and it’s up to you, as the writer, to establish the rules, and/or place the breadcrumbs to facilitate key happenings

self publishing

Another avenue to consider for writing, and one that’s now become a far more viable option, is self-publishing, and using platforms like Amazon to get your work out there, and into the hands of a reading audience.

And it’s easy to do. I self-published a novel a couple of years back, just to see how difficult it was, what the opportunities may be, etc.

It is pretty simple, and with new elements like AI image generators, creating a good-looking cover, and/or promotional content, is also easier than ever, giving you even more opportunity to create a book product that you can then sell and make money from.

The actual creation process (in terms of the book product, not the writing of the novel itself) is easy. But the real challenge with self-publishing lies in effective promotion, and raising awareness of your work.

Promotion and marketing is difficult in any context, and for most authors, who spend years alone in quiet rooms, plugging away at their novel, it’s pretty intimidating to go from that setting to speaking in front of a radio mic, or a room full of people.

It’s hard to do well, and can be a nerve-wracking experience. But you have to do it, in order to get people aware that you’ve actually written a book. Because if they don’t know, they can’t buy it, right?

Social media has made this a little easier, in that you can run social media ads, targeted to the right readers, while you can also build your own social media presence to help promote your work. But this is also both expensive and time-consuming. And again, it runs counter to the personality type of most writers.

Do you really want to be posting an Instagram Story every day, in order to maintain awareness, when you’d rather be writing?

This is why traditional publishing is a better route, for those that are able to take it, because publishing houses have their own PR teams and media connections that will get that coverage for you. Then you just have to show up and speak. When you’re self-publishing, the chances of you getting anywhere near that coverage is nil, and without that initial step of actual awareness, you’re not going to generate enough sales to make any money from your self-published work.

Which is the prime challenge. Self-publishing is not just creation, it’s promotion, and you need to come up with a plan for how you’re going to get people – many people – aware that you’ve published a new book.

That’s not easy, and without a few thousand dollars in marketing budget, it’s probably not going to be the savior approach that some suggest.

You also have to write something that resonates with an audience, and like traditional publishing shifts, literary fiction is not a big seller for Amazon readers.

On Amazon, for example, romance, fantasy, mystery/thriller, and science fiction sell the best, along with self-help, while ‘romantasy’ is a rising focus. If you’re writing in these genres, then you may have a better opportunity for discovery, and I would recommend checking in with the top sellers, and learning from their success, in order to better inform your approach.

But that also means refining your personal style and approach to align with what works, which may not be how you want to go about it. In which case, you better get happy with selling a few copies to your friends and family, and not much else.

There’s also been much talk about the ‘creator economy,’ and the opportunities of social media and video platforms, which enable anybody to explore their passions and generate income from their work. The only note I would advise on this is that while you do now have more platforms through which to find an audience, 96% of all online creators earn less than $100k per year.

Most people are not making money online, or they’re not making enough to live on, and if you’re dreaming of becoming a full-time writer, the opportunities of self-publishing may not be enough to sustain that goal.

Though it depends on your approach, it depends on your targeting, how flexible you’re willing to be, how good you are at what you do, and how many people you can get to talk about your books.

Maybe, if you reach the right influencers who say the right, positive things about your books, you’ll make some big sales, and you can use that as a platform for larger success.

But then again, self-publishing platforms are also increasingly being flooded with AI-generated content, which is diluting reader trust, and will impact overall sales.

Basically, what I’m saying is that self-publishing, as a process, is easy, but self-promotion, for most writers, is very hard, and getting attention in an increasingly crowded pool of content is challenging.

So if you are going to self-publish, you need to put a lot of focus on your promotional plan, and maybe start by cultivating a targeted social media following, that’s interested in the genre you write in, before you consider publishing.

adverbs

If there was one single note of craft advice I could highlight to all writers, it would be this:

‘Avoid abstracts. No silly adverbs like sleepily, irritably, sadly, please.’

This is from Chuck Palahniuk, the author of Fight Club. And while I don’t intend for this to be an endorsement of all of Palahniuk’s writing (I love Fight Club, Survivor and Invisible Monsters, not so much his later stuff), it’s one of the best tips for writers in leaning into the ‘show don’t tell’ mindset.

Because a lot of people have trouble understanding what ‘show don’t tell’ actually means. This rule forces you to apply it. 

So, rather than saying ‘he moved quickly,’ you’re going to have to come up with a description to add color to that term.

‘He moved like a snake lunging towards its prey.’ Depending on the movement, this would be a more specific, more visceral, and more engaging description that better captures the actual action or scene.

I hate reading bad adverbs. Quickly, rapidly, speedily. Harshly, roughly, leisurely. All of these can be written better, and can help to build the story through creative, mentally engaging, descriptive means.

Adverbs are lazy. I mean, not all of them, and you are going to have to use some. Also, simplicity often works best. But it is worth reviewing any adverbs that you’ve included, and to think about what you’re describing.

I’m willing to bet that in a lot of cases, you’ll come up with a better option.

AI misuse

There are a few different angles to the debate around the use of authors’ work to train AI models, though I’ll give you the bottom line: Authors are going to end up getting screwed one way or another.

Why is that? Because the way that the current laws are set up isn’t structured to enforce copyright in this circumstance, while any future protections for authors will likely be watered down in order to ensure that they don’t impede progress in AI development.

I’ll explain.

First, on the case of current authors’ work that’s been used to train AI models. Most authors are rightly outraged that their books have been used to assist in building systems that are going to cannibalize their industry, without their permission, and it’s true that certain AI developers have essentially stolen authors’ work without permission.

Meta has been a key target in this respect, because according to reports, Meta knowing loaded its AI language database with content from LibGen, a “shadow library” which illegally hosts millions of copyrighted books and academic papers.

To be clear, Meta’s likely not the only AI developer to have accessed the LibGen database. But because Meta generates hundreds of billions of dollars from ads, and it’s not paying authors to use their work, many people have taken aim at Meta’s process as their main focus of angst in this respect.

Indeed, several high-profile authors took Meta to court seeking damages on this front, after demonstrating that Meta’s AI tools were able to accurately recreate large segments of their work. This, the authors claimed, is evidence of copyright infringement, and they sought damages through the US court system.

And failed.

Why?

A US Federal Court ruled that Meta has not violated copyright in building its AI datasets with LibGen content, because the judge in the case found that the company’s use of these works is for “transformative” purpose. And as such, Meta’s AI tools are not designed to create competing works, as such.

This comes down to legal technicalities: Yes, Meta likely took this content from LibGen and loaded it into its system. But the copyright infringement in this case has been done by the LibGen database, not Meta, which has merely reused the information it accessed in the dataset.

The judge’s view is that AI tools are not designed to infringe on copyright, as such, because they create new works, and only use these datasets as context. It’s kind of like trying to argue that a car manufacturer is responsible for a person speeding, Meta only built the tool, it doesn’t control what people might do with it.

That also means, as the judge noted, that there may be specific cases where copyright is infringed by AI tools, like if you could show that somebody else repurposed your work specifically, and started making profit from that, then there could be a case for compensation. But that would be on a case-by-case basis, and is not prosecutable under a broader umbrella ruling on such use.

The actual violator in this case would be LibGen, which has proven difficult to shut down, because it regularly shifts domain names, and is hosted in Russia.

But because Meta’s not republishing this content direct, and profiting from that, the legal technicalities mean that Meta will likely be able to argue that such access is “fair use,” so authors won’t be getting any compensation from, or control over Meta direct on this front.

This is also further complicated by a broader push by big tech firms to encourage leniency on AI development, in order to ensure that the US is able to lead the AI race.

The White House, for example, recently outlined its AI action plan, in which it noted that it’ll be looking to:

“…work with all Federal agencies to identify, revise, or repeal regulations, rules, memoranda, administrative orders, guidance documents, policy statements, and interagency agreements that unnecessarily hinder AI development or deployment.”

Governments around the world are looking to drive AI innovation, and under pressure from the US, may find it difficult to build in relevant protections to impede such.

Though they are still exploring such.

The Australian Productivity Commission (APC) is exploring ways to protect Australian authors’ work, and build AI-specific regulations into future publishing contracts, for example.

Though many don’t believe that the APC is overly invested in such, and it seems unlikely that there are going to be any significant regulatory shifts to ensure greater protections. Which is further complicated by the existence of datasets like LibGen, which already operate outside the law, and if AI developers are legally allowed to access such, I’m not sure what the APC can actually do.

So, essentially, Australian authors, and authors in general, don’t have a lot of legal recourse for AI misuse, unless there are specific cases where you can demonstrate that AI tools have been used to rip-off your work, and have harmed your business opportunities as a result.

Which sounds a little defeatist, but this is based on the rules as they stand, and the legal precedent established by past cases.

You can’t simply argue that you don’t like it, that you don’t want your work used, you need to be able to prove that it has been, for one, then show that you’ve lost out as a result.

Which means that there will be AI copyright cases, but in general, they’ll be difficult to litigate. Which means that authors are going to get screwed. One way or another.

kids fiction

Are we taking the right approach in teaching kids to read, and fostering a literary and reading culture among children?

According to the stats, kids books continue to sell well, and there are a broad range of popular titles and celebrity-assigned kids’ book series that appeal to both parents and children alike. And it makes sense that kids books would sell, because parents are keen to encourage healthy behaviors like reading, so they’re more than willing to buy books to encourage kids to read.

But, at the same time, most of these titles would hardly qualify as reading, nor teaching kids an appreciation of books.

The ‘Dog Man’ series is a set of very basic comic strips in book form, and while the books average about 250 pages each, they only include about 4k words across those pages. The ‘Treehouse’ series is a joke book written by adults for kids, while Ahn Do’s kids books are simplified cliches. Many of these titles aren’t creative nor educational, yet they sell a heap, because they’re cool, and kids feel good saying that they read books, which then gains the approval of adults.

But are they really learning to read? Is this really beneficial?

I don’t know, it feels like we’re missing the point, and that the authors are often capitalizing on market trends, as opposed to contributing to broader literary education.

But then again, the counterargument would be that any reading is a positive, and kids wouldn’t bother reading at all if they didn’t have simple books like this that they can latch onto. And maybe, the very act of sitting down with a book is a positive step for literary culture in itself. But it just feels like there should be more responsibility among kids book authors to encourage increasingly complex literary trends, as opposed to making up fart jokes and pretending that they’re champions of education.

I don’t know, there’s no simple answer I guess, but we seem to be too accepting of these types of books as guides for our youngsters, when they’re likely not benefiting anyone other than the publishers of such.

Maybe I’m missing some critical link between these simple books and expanded comprehension in book form, but it seems to me like we should be more wary of what content we’re providing to our kids.

novel influence

We vastly underrate the value of stories, and the contributions that they make to society.

Creative writing, like all arts, is often seen as an expendable funding element, and among the first option when it comes to, say, funding cuts by government bodies.

“Why should our taxes pay for this guy to sit at home and make up stories?”

I know the arguments, and anyone in any creative industry has felt the impacts of such in action. But this perspective doesn’t account for the transformative power of storytelling, and the ways in which writing, painting, music, and every other form of creative pursuit can influence the way that we live.

Put simply, novels are the closest that you will ever get to experiencing the world through somebody else’s eyes.

On the surface, that may not seem like a major thing, but in all of human history, it’s stories that have changed minds, more than anything else, be it in books, movies, short videos on YouTube, etc.

This is why literature is inherently political, because in the telling of stories from varied perspectives, we highlight how people live, and how they experience the world. And that can then sway opinions on social topics, though at the same time, I don’t believe that art should be overtly political in this respect, with a specific aim of reinforcing a political point, or underlining a topical stance.

Artists have a responsibility to the work itself, and nothing else. You could argue that they also have a responsibility to their readers, in ensuring that they remain true to the world that they’ve created, but I would say that this is part and parcel of the first consideration, that in order to create a resonant art work, you need to remain committed to its creation, and stay true to the parameters within which it exists.

That’s where the truth comes from, in being honest about your characters and the situations that they inhabit, exploring the true nature of the work, then presenting that to an audience. It doesn’t have to be ‘good guys versus bad guys,’ it doesn’t have to showcase a specific perspective. An artist should remain attached to the vision of the work, and explore that with a commitment to sharing the characters’ perspective, no matter what direction that may lead.

By presenting things as they are, whether it’s in fiction, non-fiction, in painting, or anything else, you’re then allowing the reader to engage with another perspective. And from that, they can decide how they feel about it.

And that choice is powerful. Depicting rich aristocrats, for example, doesn’t need to be caricatures and clichés, which is the most obvious choice for a general audience, because an honest depiction of who they are, and how they live, will then inevitably also lead to sharing how they view the world, and why they do what they do.

And the reader can judge that for themself.

This is how art changes minds, and highlights society as it exists.

Even in science fiction, remaining true to the parameters of the world that you’ve created will inevitably lead to parallels that mirror real world thinking. The ‘why’ of the story is the driving force, and we read books to get a better sense of why characters do the things that they do, which is influenced by where they come from, what they’ve seen, and how they’ve been treated.

This is how we learn more about the world around us through books, and in my opinion, no other medium is as immersive in sharing somebody else’s perspective as a novel.

The stories may be made up, but the human center of the best fiction is what will always connect us to it.