The Lying Game.
The core of every fiction writer's authorly life.
It's played fast and loose without much regard to rules or regulations. It's a full-contact sport with no referee and no stoppages.
Follow me here - every work of fiction is based on at least the tiniest grain of truth. One fact or idea that becomes the basis for an entire work. An entire manuscript built from sometimes as little as a tiny string of words. And it's all lies.
Okay, I concede - the lies are often intermingled with truths, but those are usually info-dumps about things the author is powerless over - such as real world objects, events and locations that readers may or may not be familiar with.
Beyond that, it's all one big song sung with false bravado - but the joy is found in faking it. Fake names. Imaginary places. Created concepts. Rewritten laws of nature.
Only one question remains - how far is too far?
Is it reimagining the Holocaust through the eyes of Adolf himself? Is it romanticizing white oppression of minorities? Is it bastardizing religion into submission? - wait, ask Dan Brown about that one.
It may be a bit of an unnecessary query, but it crosses my mind frequently regardless.
How big of a lie constitutes passing that line in the sand?
I guess we'll have to wait and see - likely by a writer ballsier than I.