Derry, Northern Ireland

Derry, Northern Ireland
A book I'm working on is set in this town.

Friday, February 13, 2015

Jake is too real to me...

I think I've reached that stage in my writing life where my characters are more real than the real people I know. Especially Jake, since I've spent so much time inhabiting his brain...or him inhabiting mine. I honestly don't know which, right now.

I was at CVS to pick up a prescription (I'm on Cipro, again, this time for 30 days because the infection is not completely gone) and it wasn't ready, yet. I couldn't wait so headed out to go to work and I was hungry and I saw that evil row of candy by the register...and forgot what was reality, for a moment. I actually said in my head (not out loud, thank least, I don't it was), "Dude, you want to half a Baby Ruth?" "C'mon, you know I don't do candy. But if you wanna share a DP..."

So I bought a DP, instead. I decided not to buy a Baby Ruth because CVS only had the double-size one and I didn't want that much, but Jake wouldn't eat any of it so I didn't want to waste it. I didn't notice what I'd done till I went back to CVS, after work, to get that prescription and it hit me -- I'd acted like Jake was a living, breathing, body-inhabiting person, and I felt very, VERY much like Daniel in The Lyons' Den, when he's arguing with his fictional character, Ace.

I wonder if other authors have moments like this. Does Stephen King chat with his creepy characters? Did Steinbeck or Hemingway? Did Tolstoy have conversations with Levin or Pierre? I just plain sliding into serious schizophrenia? Who knows, anymore? I sure as hell don't.

And now Jake is laughing at me, the little shit.

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