[looking around furtively] there are these VOICES, see. And they won't shut up, and they won't leave me alone, and the only way to live with them is to lend them my hands and they sit there in my head and behind my eyes and stare at a computer screen and then my hands move on the keys and words start appearing on the screen in front of me and half the time I - the I that isn't the voices - is sitting back with my metaphorical hands pulling out my metaphorical hair screaming at the currently-in-control Voice, "You did WHAT? You went WHERE? Well don't look at me, I have no idea how to get you out of this mess!"
They leave, eventually, the voices. Once the story they have to tell is safely told. They go off and take up residence in their stories, their books, where for all I know they are lurking still in order to catch an unwary reader who picks a book up, and start yattering unceasingly in that READER's ear.
In the meantime, back in my own head, other voices are already in residence. Insistent and imperious. "Write. Write NOW. You can eat or sleep or have a life later. Not now. WRITE. Now. *RIGHT* now."
And so I do. COnstantly. All the time.
I spent almost a year once being voiceless, in the wake of a horrible real-life situation that left me crushed and hopeless and heartbroken - and the voices went away. And I almost added "insane" to the list of those epithets, before the first whispers came back, before the first command, gentle in the beginning, returned - "Write. Write now. Please. Or we ALL die."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-07-23 05:24 pm (UTC)They leave, eventually, the voices. Once the story they have to tell is safely told. They go off and take up residence in their stories, their books, where for all I know they are lurking still in order to catch an unwary reader who picks a book up, and start yattering unceasingly in that READER's ear.
In the meantime, back in my own head, other voices are already in residence. Insistent and imperious. "Write. Write NOW. You can eat or sleep or have a life later. Not now. WRITE. Now. *RIGHT* now."
And so I do. COnstantly. All the time.
I spent almost a year once being voiceless, in the wake of a horrible real-life situation that left me crushed and hopeless and heartbroken - and the voices went away. And I almost added "insane" to the list of those epithets, before the first whispers came back, before the first command, gentle in the beginning, returned - "Write. Write now. Please. Or we ALL die."
And so I did.
And so I do.
Because I am alive.