On writing fiction

I think that I have finally discovered the key that I had previously lacked... Fiction is truly nothing more than the realigning of basic truths from our lives... It is an eternal autobiography, where the names and faces and people are changed, slightly, enough that they might not feel insinuated, and there, in the remolding, transfiguring, there lies the truth of fiction.

Why did I never think of this before? Is this just late-night delirium? Perhaps, but it seems to make so much sense. José García, Vicens' soul-searching character tried to tell me, but I was too busy focusing on his material desires, which of course needed to be met. He was speaking about the emptiness and the absolute inability to create anything original... Of course, the people who are likely to read this are my friends and indeed likely to recognize the thinly veiled (or absolutely unveiled, just dislocated) references, and perhaps link them to my "real" life, alas... but don't all authors have friends that could rat them out if push came to shove...? there is the suspension of disbelief, the moment of tenebrous doubt, can anyone else really know all that springs forth, even if it seems that they can plunge themselves right down the main-line, heroin for your soul?

Perhaps what I read in the morning will be significantly less elocuent than it seemed in the night, surely, my thoughts reduced to [scatalogical reference of choice]... but for now, it seems like a revelation, a night visitation of the divine...
For now, I will close my eyes and allow myself to dream, peaceful in my creation, not yet dissatisfied.