Success or Insanity?
Have you ever read a book and been plunged into whatever world the author has painted? Some of my favoritest are the Pakistani mountain ranges of Greg Mortenson’s Three Cups of Tea and the ancient forests of Juliet Marillier’s Sevenwaters Trilogy. They draw you into an alien landscape, assault your senses, keep you begging for more. It’s every writer’s dream to hear tales of this from readers. Just now, my sister informed me that she dreamed of my own story last night: of course, it also involved spider-eating snakes, buildings, smoke dragons, and other miscellaneous insanity, but that’s college for you. The fact that my words could ellicit such a response blows me away.
I once read something Stephenie Meyers wrote that was, essentially, in the summer she wrote Twilight, she remembers the green wetness of Forks rather than her native Arizona. To me, that was a completely new concept. Before, everything I had written was solidly from the viewpoint of writer and computer. My characters came alive in my mind, but I was always aware of the fact that I was writing them. I never lost the fact that there was a keyboard under my fingers or a screen in front of me. That is, until Stephenie Meyers changed my world (and no, I don’t mean with her amazing Twilight series. I mean from the quote. C’mon people, keep up.)
This idea of living the book stood out to me. Before, I had been a third-person POV writer. It’s not always the easiest thing, and most of my good work was short pieces in first person. Somehow, it didn’t quite get through to me that I was NOT cut out for third person, at least not yet. As I stepped into the mind of my character, crazy things started to happen. All of my senses changed. My body changed. My world changed. I was no longer a mother, or a cook, or a wife. I was alone, fit, beautiful, hunted. The world dissolved around me into its barest essentials and reality became a poor shadow in the face of my mind. Texas’ dull winter transformed into a vibrant world of color. I lost all sense of my surroundings as I wrote. It was and is an amazing experience.
Apparently, I am not the only one who is living in this world. My sister has been brought in, my friends, my mother. To think that the human mind can create something so intriguing blows me away. But enough about me. What about you? Am I crazy? How do you write? Does third person work better for you? What’s your opinion on the matter? (Hope I wasn’ to scattered for yall.)