Thank You

Thank God for the people who love writers. 

It's easy to love the writing produced by writers but that falls under the label of 'loving reading' or 'loving books'. But writers do not sit quietly on bookshelves or on night tables. We are, of course, human beings just like you.

Except that we are difficult. Neurotic. Moody. Prone to sitting in a room alone with the door closed and abstaining from human interaction of any kind. This is not typically considered 'normal' behavior. (The definition of normal is a debate we can have later). 

I am difficult. I talk too fast and say things I shouldn't more often than I am proud of. I am neurotic. I have at least a dozen characters vying for space in my brain every day and sometimes old characters resurface for no apparent reason. I am moody. When my over-analyzing brain turns from fiction to reality, it drags me into a freak out session that fully embodies the definition of the word irrational. 

I am aware that I am all of these things. I do my best to accept them. I don't always succeed. It is those times that I am incredibly grateful for people who love writers. Friends who don't care when I'm in a mood or talking too fast to understand or just feel like talking because I've spent too much time in my own head that day. On days like that, there really is nothing better than knowing someone who is not a figment of my imagination also thinks I'm funny and worth talking to.

So, to those of you who love writers enough to hang out with us, thank you. Thank you for putting up with us and reminding us that the real world is sometimes better than the ones in our heads.

Clarity

Sometimes I wonder if I am crazy to enjoy writing as much as I do. When I'm revising, I have to remind myself of how much fun I had writing the first draft. But even when I think about writing something new, sometimes I dread it. I can't recall the reasons I love it.

Then I start writing and I remember. There are a thousand reasons I love it. Tonight, the top one is that it clears my head.

It sounds strange, I know. But going to live in a world that I've created and thinking someone else's thoughts makes my own thoughts less tangled. And let me tell you, my thoughts tangled makes me a basket case of nerves, crankiness, and general moodiness. I can think about why they've gotten tangled but that only makes it worse.

But when I write, all of that fades. I feel like myself. I feel like I know my own mind again. And there is nothing better than that after a day that went from bright and clear to murky and tangled in the space of half an hour. (Don't ask me why, because I haven't got the slightest idea). The important thing is that I am here now. And I am writing.