Tuesday, June 15, 2010

What Makes us Different

We are writers.

We are a little strange.

You said something to me last year, something about your crazy aunt with a pet iguana, and I remembered it. I made her a character in my book.

You have to be careful around us. We listen even when it looks like we aren't. Most times it looks like we aren't. That's because our minds are elsewhere.

Our minds are here and there, and there is where we are creating. We are telling stories when we are driving, walking, sleeping, talking.

I am looking at you with a smile, not because I think you are funny, but because I just snagged a bit of dialogue from our conversation.

That is how rude we are. We aren't listening to you. We are mining you for potential.

You could make a good character for our stories. We need a dastardly villain. You have nice teeth, but in our story, your teeth are yellow and rotten.

We might kill you.

You could be our hero. You are crying because life is hard, so hard, so very hard and you can't take it anymore. But you take it. That makes you strong. That moves us.

We are moved by so many things, but when you are strong, we are affected deep down inside. Resolution, under dogs triumphing in the face of stinky adversity, these things tickle us. We want to giggle and cry because you will be our hero, you are our hero, we are writing your story right now in our heads.

We might kill everyone you love. But you will be strong. You will survive.

Or you will sacrifice yourself for all and be remembered forever.

We will be good to you.

Do you see that person across the street? That poor fellow with bad hair? He is in our story too. We just put him there. He will get hit by a bus. Early in the plot. He is walking then SMACK! He is scattered.

We are morbid, sometimes.

But it is important, his death, I mean. He was not who he seemed. He seemed like a bozo with bad hair. But he is more. We don't know who he is. Not yet. We will find out. We won't forget him either.

We see curtains and think they would work. Our hero might drive that vehicle. This song should be playing in the background. That woman is wearing high heels and sweatpants, I'll have to put her in there somewhere. The donut shop has a funny saying on its sign today--got to remember that one.

It's everywhere. We call it fodder. You are fodder. Everything is fodder. We take it all in, we chew it all up. Some we swallow, we keep, we use, most we spit out.

I apologize for us. We can't hardly help it.

We are writers.

We are a little strange.