The Voices in My Head

Now, you can take this one of two ways.
I need help (sometimes I do) or:
I need a keyboard and a few hours alone.

Let’s just assume I’m talking about the second type of voices in my head.

From the time I was a young whipper snapper, I couldn’t look at the news or a an article without my mind insinuating, ooohh, that’d make a great story. I remember writing my first novel in eighth grade about a horrible fire and a pilot who took a flight up to try and seed the clouds so it would rain and save the people below. For whatever reason he couldn’t do it properly, so he died trying to release the chemicals in order to save the people.

Pure unadulterated cheddar!

But, I had heard of some massive fires and heroics being done to save folks’ homes. And I simply HAD to write and tell their story.

Fast forward about 28 years. Now, I still had felt those tuggings all those years, but ignored them in order to raise my kids, do soccer with my kids, theatre with my kids, and re-enacting with my husband. In other words, I put the not-so-alive aside for the sake of the living.

But the voices never quieted.

I’d watch the news and mmmmm, that would make a great story filled my head again. And it’s not enough to say I only had an inkling of an idea. The characters came immediately to life; I could hear their dialogue and see their faces, fighting for the right to live! Without sounding trite, I began to understand just a trickle of what someone with a disorder might feel like, cuz those communities of people living in my imagination really wanted out. Wanted their stories told. Even pushed and shoved at each other for who would be first in line.

Bless the first folks’ heart. No one will ever read their story. It was horrid, but, at least, I told it, however lamely…

For non-writers reading this, I’m sure they’ve already reserved me a room in Happy Acres where I’ll get the rest and medication I need, but for you writers, you know.

Ahh, yes, you know so well how it is when the new folks come to town, take up residence in your mind, and begin picking away at your imagination until you have to tell their story or lose sleep night after night.

How is it for you? How do you sort out and decide which of the voices come alive and which are put aside for another day? Or, do you just head for Happy Acres, sit in front of the TV, and pretend they never existed in the first place?