After the horrific acts of terror in Brussels yesterday, I wanted to stop and think about what it is that we’re doing here.  Acts of terrorism are terrible and must be stopped, but as with all horrible things that happen to us, they do make us pause and look at our lives and what we do.

We write stories. We take people away from the awful things in life and give them a break.

Yes, our stories do contain terrible things happening to good people–if they didn’t they would be boring and unreadable, but reading about terrible things prepares us for when we have to live through such things in reality. It teaches us how to react, what to do and not do. As Lisa Cron explains in Wired For Story, it is stories that have kept mankind alive. It is stories that help us to understand life and all the messy aspects of it.

I live in Brussels. I just moved here with my husband for his work and am growing to love this city very much. Because of my work, I usually don’t leave my apartment until I force myself out in the afternoon to get some fresh air and exercise, but my husband travels (he happens to be out of the country right now) and he could have easily been at the airport when those bombs exploded (in fact, one of the people who works for him was in a plane that took off from Brussels Airport just minutes before the explosions. His office was in a panic until his flight landed and he was able to check in to say that he was all right).

But yesterday, when my husband’s assistant called to make sure that I was okay (even though their office is just a few blocks from the metro station that was bombed), he told me that he wasn’t watching the news. He had turned off all communication with the outside world. It upset him too much. He couldn’t deal with it. I very nearly told him that he needed to pick up a novel and take a break–I didn’t because he was at work.

So all this is to say, that you should feel proud of what you do–writing. You make life bearable for everybody who will read your work and have an opportunity to escape.

In between reading about the horrific things that were happening in the city around me, I edited Falling, rewriting and fixing scenes. I escaped into a time and place where the worst thing was that the hero was falling in love with a woman who was off-limits to him and she didn’t know who he really was.

This was my escape. This is what let me read about the real world and not break down in tears – well, that and the wonderful outpouring of messages from my friends and family who contacted me to make sure I wasn’t anywhere near the bombings.

Thank you for what you do. Thank you for being a writer and letting the world escape into your fantasies. And thank you for being here with me—even across the distances.

And I promise, next week we’ll get back to our regular schedule of posts on Saturday mornings and regular topic of writing and self-publishing. Thank you for your patience.