A writer's brain is a uniquely marvelous place. There is nowhere quite like it.
I've always imagined my brain to be like a huge building full of doors. Each door leads to a different place and a different adventure. I have a really hard time being bored because there is always a door to open. Long bus rides don't worry me. Sitting through boring meetings - no problem.
When I look on the outside like I'm staring out a window or gazing off into space, in my head, I have walked up to one of those doors and stepped through. I might be following a Viking warrior on his first battle. Or I might have stepped onto a boxcar in the 1930s, feeling the wind and listening to the clackity-clack of the wheels on the rails. Or maybe I'm sitting in a carriage in 1860s Ottawa, or riding a horse on a ranch in southern Saskatchewan, or even following a Prince into a castle while he tries to steal an enchanted knife from an evil sorceress.
And when I need to, I reluctantly come back to the hallway in my mind, shut the door and leave those characters for another day. Then I go about my business, looking for all the world like a "normal" person, a person who isn't trying to guide a ship through a raging storm while avoiding the cannons from the enemy fort.
I've always imagined my brain to be like a huge building full of doors. Each door leads to a different place and a different adventure. I have a really hard time being bored because there is always a door to open. Long bus rides don't worry me. Sitting through boring meetings - no problem.
When I look on the outside like I'm staring out a window or gazing off into space, in my head, I have walked up to one of those doors and stepped through. I might be following a Viking warrior on his first battle. Or I might have stepped onto a boxcar in the 1930s, feeling the wind and listening to the clackity-clack of the wheels on the rails. Or maybe I'm sitting in a carriage in 1860s Ottawa, or riding a horse on a ranch in southern Saskatchewan, or even following a Prince into a castle while he tries to steal an enchanted knife from an evil sorceress.
And when I need to, I reluctantly come back to the hallway in my mind, shut the door and leave those characters for another day. Then I go about my business, looking for all the world like a "normal" person, a person who isn't trying to guide a ship through a raging storm while avoiding the cannons from the enemy fort.
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