My Imagination…

…is over active

…runs away with me for hours at a time

…saves me from boredom

…kills any time I could and should be doing something else

…sneaks up and smacks me at any time when I’m doing just about anything

You think the conspiracy stories on the news are whacked, or true, well, I can beat those any day, but why bother since they make no sense whatsoever. A strong story needs a heavy dose of reality. Not of their own reality because no one wants to read about their own life. Would you read about what you’re doing right this moment…oh and I’m sitting here at my computer (maybe my cell) scrolling through some woman’s blog talking about reading my own life and it being….wake me up when you’re done.

My imagination is curious and that curiosity could get me killed with some of its insane ideas.

Mr. Nobody…the imaginary being that would hang around when I was a kid…would not travel in the car with us, nope, it…he…would “drive” alongside us on whatever vehicle crossed my mind. Plus, it would do flips and leaps. I can’t watch motocross or dirt biking without freaking out and I will not go on any roller coaster.

I even scared myself out of the tub…again, much much younger…after seeing a JAWS commercial. OH…and I still get a tad nervous when leaving the bathroom at night…Michael, Jason, Freddy, anyone.

It doesn’t matter that, technically, it’s just my imagination. It doesn’t matter that…it just doesn’t matter, my imagination knows there is something on the other side of the door whether I believe or not.

I’m so good with my imagination that I’ve yet to be caught daydreaming. Oh, just thinking…figuring out dinner…waiting through the commercial…yeah, right. Oops, I gave myself away? Nope. I’m a writer and staring off into empty space or a blank paper or laptop screen is what I do best. It’s part of my job description.

The only problem I have is when imagination gets into its argument with the inner editor and the forever internal critic. Talk about word killers.

And there I go again. Who in their right mind names their own brain’s aspects? A writer.

To paraphrase in the most horrible of ways an author I will not name due to screwing up his quote-answer to this question of where do writers get their ideas…he might have a brain hiding in a jar, but I have multiple little entities running and screaming slamming their doors in my mind and I think one of them might be naked and at least a couple aren’t even human.

That’s it for now time to have my own conference meeting with the entities…they have suggestions for me.  Oh, and the editor and critic don’t like what I’ve written and are frankly be quite annoying in their dismissiveness.