I was thinking of the song “Walk like an Egyptian” last night while creating a blog post, but with the words “Think like a writer!” It seems to be all I do lately. It doesn’t matter what I am doing or thinking, it always feels like one big narration of someone’s life being told in my head. I am constantly thinking like a writer. I actually narrated my entire shower Sunday morning, then blogged about it as a comment on another writers Blog. It went something like this…
She sat silent and comfortably in the shower. The water washed over her toes like raindrops falling from a heated sky. The steam rose from the bottom of the shower floor, keeping her warm and calm. She had turned on the bathroom fan to drown out surrounding noises, but it didn’t stop the sounds of the screams from the room beside her from disrupting her utopia. Their father was sleeping in the room on the other side of the bathroom, surely he would hear the irritating bickering which had started despite the early hours of the morning. Surely he would take care of it without forcing her to end her solace.
The screams and whining continued.
And then it happened.
The voice thundered through the wall into her haven of relaxation. Discipline was at last being handed out. And then there was silence. Happily she closed her eyes and returned to her fantasy world, all the while thinking up this very story. It was apparent, she was a writer, and their was nothing she could do to stop it!
I think I’ve seriously crossed over to the Dark Side (I’m really hoping they have cookies!) It feels as though I am unable to go to the bathroom without thinking,
“She sat down slowly upon her porcelain thrown. She’d had to pee for hours now, but as she had spent the entire morning blogging and jotting down ideas for her new novel, she had put it off.”
This is what is like inside my mind. Granted I may not actually narrate my bathroom visits, but my mind is ALWAYS moving. My husband, and DEAR wonderful creator of this website, has asked me to stop obsessing so much, but unfortunately he has made an unfulfillable request. That would be like me asking him not to think about web coding and video games (and dare I say….no…you already know what men think about besides work and video games) I am incapable of stopping my mind from moving.
I’m not sure if this is the same for all writers, but this is how it is for me since I began writing that first paragraph of the (Eventually) famous ‘The Guardian’. And now I have an entirely different idea. I’ve written the prologue and am in the process of creating a new world! Good luck distracting me!!!
eden
such is my life.
i’m constantly wanting to get up and write while i’m in the middle of something. i think it in my head, but it never comes out right once i put it on paper. i need to have paper with me at all times. waterproof paper so i can write in the shower lol
and no, it cannot stop. it’s the same for me … it’d be like asking my guy not to think about golf and video games and such.. not gonna happen.
but we both already know we’re crazy, so…. 😉
<3
Laurel Rogers
11June 2009
OK, Marybeth, Let’s Go!
First of all, if what you describe is the mind of a writer, then I think that I am one, too. I would say that my head is probably as busy as yours, the only competition being “The Grammar Whore” who pointed out, as I read your entry, that you were in fact pondering on your ‘throne’, not ‘thrown’, porcelain or no…
I wrote this very reply as I was taking in your words, remembering my most recent adventure in the Tiled Sauna-5 minutes prior-and wanting more.
I do THINK THAT MUCH, and it concerns others, as well.
Just yesterday, my therapist, yes, my THERAPIST, referred me to a medical doctor because she was ‘clinically concerned'(?) about my “Seemingly Manic” episodes of rapid thought, speech, and grandiosity…
Well, Marybeth, this therapist of mine is also a friend, a personal one, so I did as she suggested and drove 35 miles to see the psychiatrist. When living in the Eastern Sierras, 35 miles is a LONG way.
He is not a personal buddy, but I have great respect for the guy, and his assessment has me fascinated. He is not sure. IS NOT SURE? WHAT?
Well, I suppose that is good news. I may or may not be crazy enough, even for an accurate diagnosis. I like it. I like it alot.
Until I see him again-in 3 months-he advised me to continue doing nothing in terms of chemical treatment. Ok, I think I’ll write to Marybeth instead of popping an antidepressant. At least for today.
Distracted, yet?
Got to take a shower.
Laurel