Sometimes I wonder about my own brain and why I’m creative and why I want to write.
I just finished watching a movie you may have heard of called Stranger than Fiction. I like it a lot because it’s about writing and the creative process. It also happens to be the only one of Will Ferrell’s movies that I can actually stand. I like him in this movie because he proves he can act, and not just as some ridiculous caricature of a person, but as a realistic, believable human being.
There are some movies out there that just set the creative part of my brain to whirring the moment they begin. Stranger than Fiction is one of them. I don’t know why. Maybe because, as I said, it’s actually about writing. But I really think that it’s just that type of movie. It’s supposed to be thought-provoking, which for me means that I end up wanting to write really badly. Unfortunately, it’s 1:52 AM right now, so writing is not something I can really do, at least not well, because sometime after 1:00 AM, my brain does this:
Despite that fact, my brain also feels the desperate need to write, and it’s very hard to convince it that maybe writing isn’t the best idea when it gets like this. I’ve already forgotten what I was saying….OH right, okay, so what do I do when I want to write but my brain has shut down? That’s right, I turn to blogging. At least here I can be a little more informal, but I can also be writing and stuff, so maybe that’ll satisfy my creative urges. (No I don’t know why I capitalized “bunny,” but maybe if you look at the picture of what my brain is doing right now, you’ll be able to forgive me for that small slip-up)
Here’s another thing about Stranger than Fiction: It’s all about an author whose main character is alive, and that character seeks out the author and they have a nice chat. Now, not all authors want to meet their characters, (I’m sure Stephen King sleeps better at night knowing that his creations are going to stay firmly embedded in the paper) but I think I would love to see some of mine come to life. It’s something I’ve often thought about. What would I say to them? What would they want to ask me? How would we get along? One of the requirements would be that they understand that they are fictional and that I am the author and that’s just how things go. Otherwise there could be thoughts of rebellion, and I’m pretty sure most of my main characters could kill me quite easily. There’s also the fact that I’ve killed some of their loved ones, so they might feel a little sore about that. And then there’s Serrafiel. I feel like he might be a little miffed that I knowingly brought him into a world of torment and servitude…
It’s a scary thought. But also so cool! Anyway, I think I’ve got the writing bug out of me, so I can finally go to sleep.
Shut up, brain.
Word of the Day: Trebuchet (n) – a medieval engine of war with a sling for hurling missiles.