Today, I just wanted to share a story that happened to me today.
We writers know the feeling. Come on. It’s been a while since you sat down and typed out a few words on your WIP, or edited your Baby manuscript, or spent some time with characters, or a few minutes in the politics of your imaginary kingdom. It’s been too long. So, you grab your laptop, or desktop computer, or Eniac, or maybe pen and paper [gasp, old fashioned!], and you plod over to your couch, intending to be a little bit diligent.
You don’t want to radiate yourself, so you turn off your wireless internet, and instead of streaming jazz, you listen to acoustic guitar from a CD you got from a friend years ago. [And if I'm being too personal in trying to be general for all writers, then please, as a replacement, replace this with the replacement of your choice! I dunno, maybe you DO like a little bit of radiation…maybe you don't have an acoustic guitar CD anywhere to be seen…maybe you use, gasp, a cassette player!!!
Wow, this music is really nice. And, since you woke up at 4 this morning, it starts to lull you into a happy, content state where you prefer the thought of closing your eyes to opening your eyes in your imagination. (Far-fetched analogy? Maybe…)
And so, you make that deadly decision.
You put the laptop aside, while still playing the soothing music, and you lean over, put your head against the pillow, and drink in some sudden happiness. Ah yes. This is what you’ve been waiting for all day.
This is not time for constructive imagination. This is the time for wild, free-roaming dream imagination, where Japan is through your closet door, where your neighbor mows his lawn with a mechanical, steam-powered giraffe, where you know that somewhere along the line you were related to Ronald Reagan, and where tigers are your pet.
The organized part of your imagination screams in protest.
You drift away.