As writers, the voices are there all the time, talking and yelling and screeching and vying for attention. Clamoring, threatening to never let us sleep again unless we LISTEN. Unquiet spirits of our imaginations, wanting nothing more than to be heard and seen, to be real.
Maybe the voices are there for everyone. I don't know.
I DO know that sometimes, the voices talk when you're trying to do other stuff, which can be annoying as fuck. I was watching a movie the other day and something one of the characters said suggested a whole subplot to something I'm currently working on. I listened to the idea, considered it, and ultimately rejected most of it, but saved some crumbs, then by the time I'd put it aside, I'd missed something like twenty minutes of movie. Will it improve what I'm working on? I think so, but there's a cost.
That's one of those things that is a constant thorn in my wife's side. She understands that I write, and she further understands that there's no on/off switch to flip, but after twenty-one years, it still gets under her skin. Sorry, babe.
Those voices out of our imaginations want to be real. They want their stories told. So we make them real. We breathe life into them, and in return they fulfill us. With any luck, they can teach our readers about themselves, and about us, too.
Keep reading, and I'll keep writing.