So far, we are all writing lighthearted posts this week. I don’t know if it’s the fall season, or the school year starting, the phase of the moon, or what, but I’m following the pack. And yes, Mom, if the pack jumped off the bridge, I’d probably jump too. Hey, there might be white-water down there! (grins)
A friend sent me some funny quotes (which came without attribution, so if you know who said it feel free to … um …. attribute. ) The following three struck me as both particularly funny and perfect for writers. I wanted to share with you, where my brain went with the lines, and why writers are special. (Yes, I know that word has all sorts of connotations, and yes, they likely all apply.)
The voices in my head may not be real, but they have some good ideas!
Oh yeah! The voices in my head… There are sooo many of them. They each have their own accent, history, back-story and mental patter. And just because I have them doesn’t mean I’m insane or mentally deficient or need medication or have been self medicating with drugs or alcohol. Nor do I see dead people. Lately. Of course, it doesn’t mean any of that isn’t true either!
In school I was the weird kid because I’d come to, standing in the middle of the playground, after an intense action scene or an equally intense and moving conversation between two characters—in my head—and the kids would all be staring at me. A seizure? Possession by demons with hopes to take over the playground and wreck havoc? Maybe. Could be. But a great story—in my head—for sure. The voices are real people to me. I like them. Or hate them and want them to die. Slowly and thoroughly. Hoisted on their own flaming, very sharp petards. Hey! I’m a writer! I can’t turn it off!
At odd moments, I’ll discover the hubby staring at me. I’ll realize that he’s been staring at me for a while. A long while. And he has this tender look and little smile on his face. “What?” I say.
“Where are you?” says he. “Who is in your head right now?”
Yeah, he figures I’m off somewhere with one of my characters doing something…weird. But he loves me (for reasons I’ll never understand) and so he finds the moments of dislocation charming. Good thing, yes?
Today, the voices in my head are in the midst of a scene between Jane Yellowrock and some SAR (search and rescue) dogs. What will the dogs think about a human female who also smells of mountain lion? I don’t know yet. I have the scene on hold. But it’s calling to me. Dang noisy voices!
Some people hear voices. Some see invisible people. Others have no imagination whatsoever.
One of the AKA’s cousins has a husband who read one of her first books. And he asked (totally seriously, ya’ll), “When did you meet these people? Why did they tell you this story?” Seriously.
I thought he was joking. When I found out he was not joking, I made the mistake of trying to explain what fiction is instead of walking away. His brain is weird, wired differently from mine. He has no imagination whatsoever. Is he brain damaged or am I? Would I rather have no imagination *at all,* or hear voices and see invisible people?
I’d rather have imagination. Even if unimaginative people think I’m weird.
Tell me. What’s wrong with hearing voices? Well, as long as they don’t tell me to kill *real* people or set fire to the RV or set a bomb off in the mall or actually take a Class V rapid and kill myself. And what’s wrong with seeing invisible people? They really are here, in the room with me, I tell you! You don’t see them? One’s an earth witch with a strong propensity for feeling death, and one’s a skinwalker. J Oh. And watch out. Don’t step on that bloodhound there.
Hey, I’m never bored. All I need to entertain myself is a pen and a pad of paper. Or, preferably, a PC. When the end of the world comes, if I’m still here, I’ll be too busy with the scene in my head to notice. While everyone else is screaming in fear I’ll be cussing because the electricity went out and grabbing up that pen and pad.
There’s a fine line between cuddling and holding someone down so they can’t get away.
I’m a writer. Can’t I do both?
In my writing, I’m always trying to find a way to bring disparate ideas together to create conflict for my characters to solve. A character who can cuddle and hold down another character so they don’t get away is the epitome of conflict! So, I get carried away and take things to extremes sometimes. So, I kill off a character when the plot gets slow. So, I spend an inordinate amount of time sitting and staring at blank walls (pads of paper, PC screens that have gone to black, into space, whatever). I’m pretty much all here, insde my head. I don’t need a shrink because I work out my compulsions and fears and bad memories in my stories. And yes, I can cuddle and hold down a character so they don’t get away. Mwhahahahahaha!
What is life without challenge? Without trials and dares and battles to be fought?
How do you feel about the voices in your head? What they doing today?
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