Trapped on a Desert Island With Only Twenty of Us
Up to the point of acquiring a medical condition, I’m a huge proponent of spending time with yourself and by yourself. It may seem anti-social, but there’s so much focus on socialization and communication in the world that spending some “me” time can be a powerful sedative.
As a writer I can improve this “me” time by spending it in a setting of my own choosing. I’d get in trouble for it when I was younger – it was called daydreaming then. But now it’s the fuel source for my next potential bestselling book. And all I have to do is let my mind go and wonder, “What if…”.
The unfortunate part to all of this is that the social skills don’t decay. That’s because of the other people. Yes, spending time with myself involves other people. Not the people in the background wherever I’m at, but the people in the foreground. The characters. Maybe it’s Carl putting somebody in their place for doing stupid or maybe it’s Katy trying to figure out who’s been trying to kidnap a little girl in her neighborhood. It might be Elsa and Tarn fighting off some enormous jungle predators or Dexter wondering how he let his daughter convince him that he should let her learn how to sail the Voidhawk at the tender age of six. Whether it’s those characters or others (Alto, Patrina, Dawn, Robbie, Cassiopeia just to name a few), I’m haunted by voices that demand I tell their story. They live out the scenes almost like I’m watching a movie in my head. Sometimes they pause and re-enact the scene, changing details because something else might work better. That’s proof, to me, that these characters are just like a lot of us real people are – they like to embellish on what happened to make it sound better.
And sometimes that makes me wonder. Are writers really coming up with all the stories we come up with, or are we just mediums capable to conversing with beings in other worlds and dimensions? That crazy lady who claims to be the Long Island Medium – I’ve long considered her and the show a joke, but now I wonder if maybe she and I aren’t so different. Granted, I don’t walk up to alleged strangers who I’ve never met, read, or seen before and act like I have intimate knowledge of them, but I do readily share such knowledge about people that don’t exist. Or at least they don’t exist in our world. Who’s to say they aren’t real in another world? Perhaps every new idea spawns off an entire new universe in which something is possible. Does that mean that our universe might be nothing more than a story told by someone in another reality?
Deep and perplexing thoughts, and most likely random musing caused by too much or not enough caffeine. Whatever the case, it’s a glimpse into the deviant mind of a fantasy and science fiction writer. As much as that may have troubled or scared you, ask yourself how you’d like to live with these sorts of things in your head all the time? Me, I love it, but that’s because the alternative is foaming at the mouth and wearing a straight jacket.
To learn more about Jason Halstead, visit his website to learn about him, his books, sign up for his newsletter, or check out some free samples of his books at http://www.booksbyjason.com.
