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The other night my daughter and I were watching a movie. Another daughter came in and stood in front of us, pointing at her side, she said, “Where exactly could a person be shot in this area without it hitting any vital organs?” Daughter number one and I gave this some consideration and then we all discussed the placement of organs and the best place for a person to be shot and not suffer any permanent damage. Daughter number two went back to her room and number one and I continued watching the movie. It wasn’t until later that it occurred to me how this conversation would have been viewed by most people. It would have seemed a little odd for sure.
We’re not a family of psychopaths, just a family of writers. Three out of four of my daughters are writers. They learned from a young age that a bad grade in science or math could be quickly forgotten if they made a good grade on a paper that they had written. Should I have done that? No! Not at all. Science and math are important. But writing, writing is life! What can I say? I’ve always loved to write.
I sometimes feel a little disconnected from the real world because I am watching people and listening to them, not because I’m interested in them, but because I am seeing them as possible characters in a book. I lose track of conversations because I’m trying to think of exactly how you would spell a word to give it the exact inflection that the person speaking does.
When I’m looking at a beautiful sunset, I’m enjoying it, but I’m also describing it in my head. Is the purple more violet or lavender? Is the sun the color of an orange Popsicle or more like the yolk of a sunny side up egg?
I think maybe there’s a gene that makes people want to write. I think that same gene also makes them just a little bit crazy. I’ve never met a writer who wasn’t just a tad bit off. They don’t just march to a different drummer—they have a whole orchestra made up of dozens of wild characters playing a tune that leads them merrily along.
The next time you’re standing in a line, look at the people around you. Is there someone standing there with a far-a-way look in their eyes? Do they look just a little perplexed, like they’re trying to figure out the meaning of life? It’s probably just a writer writing the scene into his book, maybe trying to decide how to write the dialogue that he’s listening to. Watch out if he focuses on you…you could become a serial killer or a worse yet a victim in his next book.
Janice Ivy is the author of ‘Taking out the Trailer Trash‘ and a excellent Writer’s Tag contributor.
Kazza
/ July 10, 2010Hey, Jan! This is great! You’ve nailed it on the head; we writers look at the world differently. Everything is a story… an incident at the mall, a particular storm, a family tiff at the beach… all potential murder mysteries, romanace novels, tales of adventure.
We writers might be a bit ‘off’ and quirky, but damn! We’re weavers of tales! We’ve got every right to be (and I love knowing I now have an excuse!)
Thanks for your insight.
Kaz
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Alexie Aaron
/ July 11, 2010Is there a gene for writers? I can’t answer that, but I can tell you that environment has a lot to do with it. My sister was writing for the newspaper in high school. Her articles were very popular. My niece has a wonderful talent for telling tales in the fantasy YA genre. Me, I’m just a daydreamer putting the dreams on a piece of paper looking to entertain people. As children, we were encouraged to read and all love books. My daughter was so encouraged that she took herself all the way to England, starting with critical theory and ending up with a PhD in English Literature. Maybe it’s both genetic and environmental.
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Malcolm James Thomson
/ July 12, 2010Sounds like a fun family, Janice. My own daughter, twenty-one now, shakes her head but plays along increasingly happily when we meet up about twice a week. For she must not only hear from me about the doings of the real people in my everyday life but also about the latest machinations of the people who only exist in my imagination… people I observe closely, listen to attentively, before I can transcribe the seen, heard and imagined into words on paper.
What a shame that this blog gets so little feedback in the form of comments. I really thought my own contribution contained a couple of controversial suggestions which might have provoked some reaction but… nada.
Good luck with your “Trash”!
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Suzannah Burke
/ July 31, 2010Janice I missed this when you first put it up..what a hoot. My daughter is also a writer, the gene pool and the environment she was raised in really didn’t give her much of a choice. The little wretch was critiquing my stuff at around age 8…Mind you they were all stories I had written exclusively for her, covering all the sweet years of her life.
When she talks to me on the phone these days she often laughs out loud, she said recently, “Ma, I always know when you’ve been editing, you talk like Cyril for hours afterwards.”
To many people that is a fair deal, we often get into our characters…It’s just that, well you see…um..Cyril is a crocodile! Nuff said?
Great post, my friend.
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