I’ve always found it difficult to sleep. Like Alice having a recurring dream of Wonderland, then realizing she’s been there before.
As a writer, I often feel this way, the character’s I write, the places, their stories, when I’m awake I talk to them, I follow them, or maybe they are following me. I’m sure it’s the latter.
It’s even worse when you’re thinking about several characters and not all in the same story, but different time periods even, different circumstances.
And I’m anti-social. And my characters don’t call or text before coming, they show up. Or is it they never leave and I’ve learned over the years to block them out, because I have a life outside of my writing, and knowing I can’t stay forever down in the rabbit hole, even though I’m tempted to stay.
So when I am sleeping I dream of them, and when I am lying in bed attempting to fall asleep, I am interacting with them, plotting with them. When I wake up, I’m researching, and taking notes, always delving deeper, peeking up out of the rabbit hole every once and while taking care of things, like getting groceries, or feeding the cats, or spending time with my wife, who knows and encourages me to write, and loves it makes me happy, and wouldn’t it be nice if I could take her down into that rabbit hole with me? Perhaps I could, maybe it’s a selfish act, so the best way I know how is to write, so I can take her, and the reader to this place with me.
So I write, because my character’s want to speak, and I write because I feel as if i have to tell their story, I write as a way to hang out in the rabbit hole and away from the mundane, from the ever-ticking of the clock like Captain Hook, and like a deep-diver coming up, I have to decompress, where you feel even more isolated, and alone, clocks ticking, debates about medieval walls, blue lives, black lives, all lives matter, another senseless mass shooting, sleep, eat, say I love you, pray, repeat.
So I take from, and give back, from one world and into the other, because everything that comes from within, comes from somewhere, the mundane, the ticking of the clock, and what you bring up with you, you leave something behind, and both worlds become one over time, that whatever we touch we become a part of it and vice versa…
But I have to go for now. My characters are calling me.
Much love and respect, Chad