In writing, one of the most rewarding things is, after creating a character, looking back at him or her.

'I made you. I know everything about you. I control your appearance, your thoughts, actions, your life and death. You are mine and I love you because I created you. I love you.'

Writers play God; God plays writers. Did God not make us, fashion us to his liking, put us on Earth at a certain time so we could fulfill what we need to keep the story going?

Life is one big book with billions of characters, just as many plots, complete with the ultimate writer of all.

This, however, is somewhat easier to think about than,

"Yes, God needs man. Condemned to eternal solitude, He made man only to use him as a toy, to amuse himself. That's what philosophers and poets have refused to admit: In the beginning there was neither the Word nor Love, but laughter, the roaring, eternal laughter whose echoes are more deceitful than the mirages of the desert."

They both paint the same picture of control, amusement, and marionettes: little puppets on a string.

After all, that is what fictional book characters are-- puppets created to follow every command, giving eternal thanks in their papery way for being created.

Billions of puppets…

Italicized quote taken from The Accident, by Elie Wiesel.