Tuesday, June 9, 2009

To Live in my Story

Moments like this, I want to jump inside my story. Just for this scene (because Death Before Returning to High School, that's my motto) while my characters are doing something cool that I can't actually do.

They're remaking a dress - a costume. They have scissors and beads and sequins and glue guns and yards, yards, yards of that tulle netting stuff. I am no sew-stress, but I can envision the transformation from cheesy, clunky puff-sleeved ballet costume to elegant, flowing, goddess-worthy gown.

I'm a little giddy with totally unusual creative juices.

I think I might be jealous of them (the characters, not the juices) and do you know what that means? Either that I'm totally losing my grip on reality (possible) or that these girls are becoming People to me. That's kind of amazing, you know?

I have written people that felt real to me before, but mainly because they reminded me of someone I knew (me) and I was constantly bugged by their (my) selfishness, or stupidity, or shallow reactions, or lack of confidence. But these new characters, they're not like anyone I know. They're coming "alive" (don't call the psych hospital, it's just an expression) of their own merits.

Not only that, but I LIKE them.

This is a momentous occasion. I think I'll go for a celebratory jog.

1 comment:

  1. That happened to me the other morning. I was doing my hair in the mirror and had this baby moment with my character where he just said, "Thanks for telling my story the way I really wanted it told." And I had been fighting this story for years. As soon as I found the right way to tell it, he just spoke right on up.
    So don't call the psych hospital on me either and we'll just let this whole thing go away...


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