Inspiration or Insanity

“Human beings have speculated about the relationship between inspiration and insanity for centuries.” - Patty Duke

I hear conversations in my head.  All the time.  No – I don’t mean that I hear voices, as usually referred to in the auditory hallucination way, the schizophrenic, bipolar or psychotic way.  They are never voices.  It isn’t exactly a sound that I hear, but rather a thought.  Or rather a series of thoughts.  One thought digressing into another, and what that could cause, or what was the effect.  No, not voices, but rather, characters in my head, some that I made up, and some that exist in reality, having ongoing, usually heated conversations. 

I was an only child.  (Still am, actually).  Brought up in a home with two working parents, who were very busy with their own worlds.  I had numerous cousins and playmates, but no siblings.  Most days I was left to entertain myself, to lose myself in my imagination, and learn and thrive.  I think it started then.  Conversations between dolls, or animals, or Lego creatures that I created.  What they would say to each other, how their day would unfold.   Until finally it blossomed into a creation of whole other worlds, other characters, other social circles that would later be put to paper into a book or a story.  This is how I write now.  They are conversations that have happened in my mind between the assorted characters.  My only hope being that once I get to the computer or even a scrap of paper that I can remember all the nuances of the conversations.  Because, usually they are quite good. 

Most time, it is as thus.  Characters that will later become a story, or a book.  Conversing back and forth in my brain.  But sometimes, it is more personal.  It may be a conversation that I hope never happens.  An argument.  What I would say to this person or that, if they have spoken out of line, or displayed their ignorance.  And what would they say back, and then me, and so on.  Or conversations that should have happened, emotions that I should have expressed, or not expressed, and perhaps what the outcome would have been, different or not.  Things I should have said, events I should have stopped, memories that I would like to change.    

I know I am not the only one.  I read once that a large percentage (although I forgot the exact number) of us, rue over thoughts as such.  Memories.  Fantasies.  In fact I spent entirely too much time trying to find the figures that I am referring to now to support my theory, so you will just have to believe me.  And if I ever come across these figures I will input them here, and all will be right with the world, and you will have no choice but to believe me.  In the meanwhile, feel free to think of these as babblings of a fantasy prone personality.  (It’s a real thing – Wikipedia it!  Fantasy prone personality).

I even spend an inordinate amount of time imagining if I could go back in time, and do things differently.  And how the changes in my actions and reactions would mold my life, and therefore my present and my past.  It is right at this part that the fantasy falls apart.  Even if in my brain the conversation that is occurring is so invigorating, and empowering, it comes down to this:  If things happened differently, then I would be an entirely different person.  I would not be a mother, a wife, a writer, a hopeless romantic with a proclivity for sci-fi and fantasy. I would not have this particular loving husband, or this particularly brilliant and exhilarating daughter.   I would be different, and so would they.  The state of my happiness would be in flux.  I could be happier, or perhaps not.  Things would be, however, different.  And that isn’t something I would be willing to change. 

When I finished my first book (No Particular Place to Go, ), I described it to someone as thus, “These characters have been living in my head for so long.  I am glad to get them out there, into the, quote, ‘real’ world”.  But those characters weren’t done with me yet, they had more to say and so, a sequel will be forthcoming. 

So even if I have these conversations in my head, they are most likely going to stay there.  Or typed up out under some strange fictitious character’s dialog. That is about the extent of it.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

“To invent, you need a good imagination and a pile of junk.”  -Thomas A. Edison