It has been said all the stories were written millennia ago, that no new stories exist. There is some truth to that assertion, in that the stories we tell always illuminate human ability, or lack thereof, to deal with situations, whether those situations are technological, environmental or societal in nature.

From a writer’s perspective that can be a pretty depressing truth. Why, then, write when all the stories have been told? Why indeed.

The answer to that lies within the writer and their own window on the universe. Perspective.

For me, as a writer, editor and publisher, that imperative to find fresh perspective is vital, the difference between a vibrant and eloquent voice, and one which remains white noise in the background of myriad monotonous mutterings. (You will please forgive the egregious alliteration, but in this case it works.)

Which brings us to why a writer writes. If you’re writing with the hope of fame and fortune, well, you might not want to quit your day job. If you’re writing because concepts fascinate you, cause you to pause while walking, or working, or waking (hmmm, we’re on an alliteration journey today, pardon, pardon), then that’s a powerful engine you can tap for your stories. Why? Because that’s your voice, your perspective. Sure someone else may have thought similar thoughts. But no one else is going to have exactly your perspective on the subject. Not entirely. And it is that perspective which is unique and can lift your narrative out from the murmurings of cloned stories, into a clear, clarion call. (Sweet saints, what is with the alliteration today?)

As an editor and publisher, too often I receive a manuscript which attempts to ride the coat-tails of some blockbusting best-seller. (I think it’s the coffee that’s causing this alliterative addiction.) Over and over I receive another dystopia wailing about the desertification of the earth and the preponderance of Mad Max villains who roam it. Or it’s yet another Waterworld. Or everyone’s dying of a global pandemic.

Worse, are the panting pantheons to vampire love and passion in the realms of the undead. Or the novel which is little better than heaving bosoms set against a backdrop of pseudo-history. Dare I mention the crusty detectives and hard-luck stories?

Same, same, same. Where did that bottle of wine go? I need to drown my sorrows.

And you will forgive my lack of compassion and subtlety, but seriously, can’t you find anything unique to say? Have you nothing to draw from? Are you afraid to dig deeply, to expose thoughts and observations, to risk research and a journey which may not only change your life, but those you touch when you share that discovery?

It’s that perspective I want to read as an editor and publisher. It’s that perspective which will get me past those deadly 30s: 30 seconds, 30 pages, 30 minutes.

From my point of view, if you’re unwilling to dig deeply, to put yourself out there on the page, then probably we’re not a good fit. If, however, you’d like to invite me to take a journey with you, one of discovery and insight, then I would be very pleased to do so. It’s all about perspective, you see. Do you see?