I wrote a story awhile back about a boy. In my minds eye, the last we saw of him he was walking into a forrest that may or may not exist. I liked him. I think that wherever he went he's probably doing something interesting. I didn't really plan for his story to go any farther than it did. I think that in this case my plans might not matter.
Today I wrote an outline for a story as an assignment for a writing course I am taking. There was a different young person in this story. Originally it was a boy in the fifth grade but in this case I think I'm going to change him into a her. Just like that. That's not really the point though. The point is that in some way these two separate stories just decided to attach themselves to each other. This little girl was just given a thing, anonymously, for her birthday that allows her to look into what the previously mentioned character is doing. They're connected in some way. I'm going to have to see if I can get them to tell me now. What I do know is that there is at least one other character, an adult I'm fairly certain, that is connected to both kids. He may be good, he may be bad, I'm not sure about that yet either.
That's the start of the web. What's interesting is that lots and lots, maybe hundreds, of stories and pieces for stories that I've got filed away in my head are starting to pop up after years of disuse. They're making themselves known again and trying to attach themselves to each other in any way that they can. Some of these combinations are a little bit rediculous but sometimes they turn into interesting situations. Some of them, I think, might even be useful.
I don't think I'm going to divulge too much of this madness here because, as it doesn't really make sense to me yet, it's probably not going to make a whole lot of sense to anyone else. It's time for some organizing which is something that I've always been pretty bad about. Stream of conciousness writing doesn't work all the time. It would be nice if it did.
So, I have voices in my head. Some of them are accompanied by all the things that make a person except for existence in reality. Some of these people are also accompanied by situations and places that don't exist. It realy is a fun game.
Not all people who hear voices are crazy. Some of us are just authors. I've got loads of things on top of voices in there and I'm pretty sure that I'm still sane. Mostly anyway.
I also make countertops out of rocks.
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Authors are funny like that. I understand what you mean about speaking to the characters. Everytime somebody asks me how I write a story and I tell them I listen to the characters I get an odd look. But it's true, there is a web that they weave, one that as an author, you are left to untangle.
"I hold that a writer who does passionately believe in the perfectibility of man has no dedication nor any membership in literature." - John Steinbeck
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