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Here’s a question: how many writers do you think spend their days working with new stories, with new characters and new plots? My guess is: a tiny number, compared to how many are working with the old ones. And that’s not just the case at the bottom of the food chain where I make my living; it’s the same at the very top – think about those big brand writers creating big brand book sequels – more James Bond, more Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. And it’s the same story times a million in the film industry – a whole generation of filmmakers working on Star Wars, Captain America and Batman. A whole raft of us – at every level you can imagine – are investing our writing lives into the continuation of stories that were new when we were kids, or when our parents were kids, instead of creating new worlds of our own. And these stories tend to be children’s stories; you’ve noticed that, right? Now don’t get me wrong; I’m no snob. I might love Herman Melville and B.S. Johnson, but I also love Star Wars and Harry Potter. Of course I do, we all do, so we roll up our sleeves and we service the IPs. I’m certainly not complaining, and even if I was complaining, there’s really no point burying your head in the sand and hoping that any of it will go away, because – let me tell you – it absolutely won’t. It’s a hard rule of late-stage capitalism – big, established brands dominate, and start-ups find it harder and harder to get a foothold in the market. There’s no changing it. This is our world, and it’s a world of sequels, prequels, remakes, remakquels. This is our age, and it’s the age of the hyperlink and the shared universe, where all the stories are interconnected and everyone takes a turn at being the author of everything.