Finding Old Friends
I've been out of touch with a group of my best friends for quite some time. We used to do everything together. Eat, sleep, work, breathe--everything. They used to show up at all hours of the day and night. Sometimes they would just appear from seemingly out of nowhere and always with something fun or exciting or dangerous in mind. Their favorite place to visit me was in the car. They would chatter like magpies while I drove home from work everyday and wouldn't leave me alone until I turned my full attention to them. Sometimes they would even wake me from a dead sleep just to tell me what they wanted to do the next day.
You would think friends like these would be annoying, wouldn't you? I loved them though. I loved their vibrancy, their take-no-prisoners attitude. Their spontaneity excited and rejuvenated me.
Then one day I didn't hear from them all day. One day bled into a week and then a month until I finally reconciled myself to the fact that they had abandoned me for greener pastures. I mourned their leaving. Moaned and cried and even dipped into a slight depression. It was hard learning to live in the silence they had left behind. I filled my time with books about vampires or babies. I even dipped so low as to try and pass the time with a magazine.
Then one day last week without warning one of them found their way to me and then another and then another until finally they were all there again. A little quieter than before and maybe they don't hang out as much as they used to but they're there.
Who are these friends? you might ask. And why would I accept them back into my life after having deserted me for so long and so abruptly?
They're my characters. The chattering little voices in my head that come to visit me with my muse. You see, much as I love writing--blogs, short stories, or manuscripts--I love writing for my Drifters characters the most. At least two of them have been with me for nearly 4 years! (Jana and Blake, in case you're wondering. hehe) That's a long time to write for the same characters but I love all dozen of them. Each of them bring such unique experiences to my writing and I imagine sometimes in real life that I find myself channeling one or two of them. And while my muse came back to me a couple of weeks ago these characters didn't come back with her until one day last week.
Funny how you can miss someone who doesn't exist outside of your own imagination, isn't it? Any writers out there know what I'm talking about, I'm sure. At least, I hope I'm not the only one who experiences this phenomenon otherwise I'm likely to find myself in a white jacket surrounded by padded walls. :-o
I like to think sometimes that these particular characters are extensions of me...different aspects of my subconscious personality. The lead female, narcissistically named Jana, is the wild, crazy, silly part of me that I enjoy the most. She teases, laughs and giggles. She says whatever pops into her head and says it loudly. She has a short temper and is wildly passionate about her family--and an extreme buttinsky. Her identical twin, Gina, however, is the flip side. She's mild mannered, quiet and often times shy. She doesn't express her anger unless pushed to her limits and she's always looking to smooth things over. She's quiet and respectful and when Blake isn't around, she's the one to keep Jana in check. These two, perhaps more than any of the rest of them, are the split halves of me. Gina, perhaps is more closely reflective of who I am in the public light but Jana is who I am when no one's looking. lol (well, my family and close friends get to see a bit more of my "Jana" half than they would probably like to. hehehe)
It was lonely to be without any of them for so long. I never realized how closely intertwined my conscious is tied to them or how often I plotted, schemed and mentally conversed with them. Without them, I think even my other characters for my manuscripts were lost.
I suppose if I pyschoanalyzed it to death I could determine that my characters were so quiet because my mind was so preoccupied with the emotional drudgery I was wading through that I left them no room to breathe. It feels dangerous, as a writer, to have my emotions so closely tied to my characters and writing. I hate the idea that my emotions dictate my creative process. I suppose, though, that nearly every writer struggles with that at some point.
All that being said, I suppose what I really wanted to say is: "Welcome back, old friends."
Libby, the forty-something matriarch of my characters looks at me and quirks an eyebrow, one hand on the butt of the gun on her hip and asks, "Who you callin' old?"
See? I've missed them so much. hehe
You would think friends like these would be annoying, wouldn't you? I loved them though. I loved their vibrancy, their take-no-prisoners attitude. Their spontaneity excited and rejuvenated me.
Then one day I didn't hear from them all day. One day bled into a week and then a month until I finally reconciled myself to the fact that they had abandoned me for greener pastures. I mourned their leaving. Moaned and cried and even dipped into a slight depression. It was hard learning to live in the silence they had left behind. I filled my time with books about vampires or babies. I even dipped so low as to try and pass the time with a magazine.
Then one day last week without warning one of them found their way to me and then another and then another until finally they were all there again. A little quieter than before and maybe they don't hang out as much as they used to but they're there.
Who are these friends? you might ask. And why would I accept them back into my life after having deserted me for so long and so abruptly?
They're my characters. The chattering little voices in my head that come to visit me with my muse. You see, much as I love writing--blogs, short stories, or manuscripts--I love writing for my Drifters characters the most. At least two of them have been with me for nearly 4 years! (Jana and Blake, in case you're wondering. hehe) That's a long time to write for the same characters but I love all dozen of them. Each of them bring such unique experiences to my writing and I imagine sometimes in real life that I find myself channeling one or two of them. And while my muse came back to me a couple of weeks ago these characters didn't come back with her until one day last week.
Funny how you can miss someone who doesn't exist outside of your own imagination, isn't it? Any writers out there know what I'm talking about, I'm sure. At least, I hope I'm not the only one who experiences this phenomenon otherwise I'm likely to find myself in a white jacket surrounded by padded walls. :-o
I like to think sometimes that these particular characters are extensions of me...different aspects of my subconscious personality. The lead female, narcissistically named Jana, is the wild, crazy, silly part of me that I enjoy the most. She teases, laughs and giggles. She says whatever pops into her head and says it loudly. She has a short temper and is wildly passionate about her family--and an extreme buttinsky. Her identical twin, Gina, however, is the flip side. She's mild mannered, quiet and often times shy. She doesn't express her anger unless pushed to her limits and she's always looking to smooth things over. She's quiet and respectful and when Blake isn't around, she's the one to keep Jana in check. These two, perhaps more than any of the rest of them, are the split halves of me. Gina, perhaps is more closely reflective of who I am in the public light but Jana is who I am when no one's looking. lol (well, my family and close friends get to see a bit more of my "Jana" half than they would probably like to. hehehe)
It was lonely to be without any of them for so long. I never realized how closely intertwined my conscious is tied to them or how often I plotted, schemed and mentally conversed with them. Without them, I think even my other characters for my manuscripts were lost.
I suppose if I pyschoanalyzed it to death I could determine that my characters were so quiet because my mind was so preoccupied with the emotional drudgery I was wading through that I left them no room to breathe. It feels dangerous, as a writer, to have my emotions so closely tied to my characters and writing. I hate the idea that my emotions dictate my creative process. I suppose, though, that nearly every writer struggles with that at some point.
All that being said, I suppose what I really wanted to say is: "Welcome back, old friends."
Libby, the forty-something matriarch of my characters looks at me and quirks an eyebrow, one hand on the butt of the gun on her hip and asks, "Who you callin' old?"
See? I've missed them so much. hehe
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