What is it like to be a writer, you ask? To put pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard, and compile the scenes and conversations that make up a story? To carry the reader away on an unforgettable journey? It’s much like a bittersweet romance. A love-hate relationship with words, and sometimes with the characters. But it’s also an obsession, an addiction, if you will.
Picture this: You’re standing on one side of a door, looking into a room and watching the scenes play out. There are happy things happening inside, sad things, mystical and magical things. You are awestruck, astounded. You want to be a part of it. You must write it all down. In a sense, we are honored to have an inside look at the lives of characters, to be privy to their personal space.
You might think it’s an invasion of privacy. It might seem a bit creepy, like we’re playing the role of Peeping Tom. But they’ve smiled on us, welcomed us with open arms, and let us in. They have given us permission to tell their story. But only in the manner they want it told. Their terms. Their words. Their way. We respect that, of course, and write it to the best of our ability. If not, they are sure to let us know.
But beware. Once you accept the invitation and step through the threshold, you have reached the point of no return. If you’re not up to the challenge, it’s best to ignore the solicitation. Else they will haunt you throughout the day and in your dreams, forever. Most likely, they will attempt to anyway. It seems they can’t take a hint once you have been deemed a worthy scribe.
If you really are not interested in becoming a part of their team, you shouldn’t even go near the door. And most certainly, do not open it. Because then, you will be hooked.
Listen. I think I hear them calling you now.
