Lee, i’ve realized something that i’ve known for a while now. …that was a weird sentence that looks to be a hair shy of word salad. but stay with me, Lee!
so there are things you just know. you don’t acknowledge them. they don’t feel like they need to be acknowledged. because they just are. they’re things about you and your daily process that are so inherent that mentioning them feels akin to shouting, “Hey! I’m breathing over here!” silly. and a large share obnoxious.
but what i acknowledge this morning is that my stories are with me ALL. THE. TIME. once something becomes a story in my head, i am constantly working on it. every experience i’m having, significant and minute, are being applied to a story.
ooh! that’s something Quil would say! … someone with that type of humor would make a great side character! … wow! this room is full of bold lines and bright colors. Vena would hate it here! … the way the wind is rustling through the leaves is something Thal would notice.
every moment of my daily life is a moment that could be applied to a story. even as i write this, hunched over a desk at work, fingers clacking on the keys, i can apply this to the many hours one of my characters spends researching and making notes in a database. i’m constantly stowing every sound, every touch, every emotion, into my brain to be applied to a piece of writing later. and i probably do this even more now that i go to my writing group every Wednesday night.
hindsight being the lens of revelation that it is, i realize that i have always had a writer’s brain. from as far back as i can remember, i loved learning and understanding words and writing them down. while reading- which i also loved- i would get excited when i would come upon a new word. which, as you can imagine, happened quite frequently with my 5-year-old vocabulary. the dictionary was, and remains, to be one of my favorite books. sometimes i still look up words that i know the meaning of just to get a more precise understanding of them. because- ya know- words are invigorating. but i digress…
my point is, in my Wednesday night writer’s group, i have found my tribe. we find the same sorts of things delightful, and the same sorts of things inflammatory. when one of us shares a story about our daily lives, whether about something nice or annoying, there are nods of empathy and agreement. there’s no one looking off, bored, like “i don’t get it.” no one giving you a strange look like you’ve just said the weirdest thing they’ve ever heard. and if what you said does happen to be the strangest thing they’ve ever heard, they appreciate how unique and interesting it is. and something about having a unit where i fit in completely makes it infinitely easier to be confident everywhere else. it’s kinda like, you don’t like me? so what! these people over here get me! *flounces away*
and i mention all this to say, in knowing that my writerly aspects are common among the writer tribe, i know that other writer brains are constantly squirreling away their every experience until they need to put it down on paper. and it’s a comforting thought that, if this be madness, i couldn’t be in better company.