This is the thought that came to mind after I had written my introduction for Pepper Soup.
Regardless of the fact (and apparently it is well known), that my resting B face is, at the very least, competent. Regardless of the fact that I like to act cynical, and am full of sarcasm and anger, and that some days, my pessimism makes it difficult to breathe.
Regardless of all this, it is possible that I am naïve. Because I search for hope and happy endings.
Because without hope, all we have is despair. Without hope, life is a black hole, a bottomless pit, pointless.
Hope is important. Hope is necessary. Happy endings are vital.
As a writer of stories, sometimes I question myself about the importance of my purpose. So you write stories? So what? It's not like you save lives. Then I sink into my own pit of despair. I roll in the mud of my misery. I wallow in my unhappiness, and let it seep through my pores as weary hatred.
Until I read Neil Gaiman, Octavia Butler, Ilona Andrews, Nora Roberts. Stories save my life. Over and over again, they restore my sanity, my hope in humanity. They fill me with the still, small belief that maybe, just maybe, we won't all kill each other in the end.
Happiness matters. I want to be happy, and I want to make others happy. This is why I am here. This is why I write. Most of the time. At other times, expect me to scare you or break your heart. But today, I offer you some Pepper Soup. Sit down. Eat, drink, rest, receive comfort, so the journey doesn't take it out of you.
