The perks of being a writer - Reality check

A writer lives suspended between two worlds. One is the world common people call “reality”, the other is the world of fairy tales, fantasy and endless possibilities. A writer does not see the differences between these two worlds, to us, this dissimilarity is imperceptible, no boundary line of has been drawn and crossing over is the easiest thing to do.

Inspiration comes when the fantastic world envelops everything is real giving it a new light and it comes when you look deeply at something real and you notice something fantastic has been laying under it and it was ready to be discovered.

For example, I can feel my characters talk, I can hear the sound of their voices and the expressions on their faces as they were actually real. To me, they are real. Sometimes I find my self sad or happy, depending on what I am writing; I am so deeply inside my stories that I can really feel the emotion I am describing and it’s hard to take away the eyes from the monitor and the written words and finally realize I wasn’t really there. Really? Wasn’t I?

It’s a like and infinite riddle or being between two mirrors and seeing your reflections multiplied so many times you wonder about infinite.

Writing, like painting, makes you infinite. Infinite times you may revise your story, not to check from grammatical errors, but to spend more time with your characters; infinite times you’ll dream of glimpses of new topics to develop and write about them and infinite times you’ll feel like your not giving justice to your ideas, because your writing is not quite good as you expected when you had imagined it. Writing is painful, you find yourself exploring emotions you wish you wouldn’t have to explore, sometimes you look for them to remind yourself how it feels, because to describe it, in an effective way, you have to feel it, to enlarge it and then enhance it until it’s so clear it becomes more than real.

I think reality is overrated. Scientists are continuously changing idea about the physic of reality: does it really matter, what really matter is? I don’t think so. In the end the world is ruled by emotions. Power, rage, fear, love: are these things real? Can you touch them? No. But they are here, more powerful than ever.

When you write you can feel them around you, waiting to enter your story, one after the other. I can describe a chair for one hour, but when I write about emotions, I could go on for days, no limits, only infinite chances, infinite stories and personal views. If this isn’t magic, I don’t know what it is.

Writing saved my life, combining my overdeveloped imagination with my desire to take it all out and put it down in words, that was my anchor.

I have notebook, black covered one that I always keep close. Sometimes at night I wake up with impressive thoughts, so I write them down on my notebook, but by the time they’re out they have lost half of their powerful meaning. It’s not easy to write, you must learn to live with perpetual dissatisfaction, because it doesn’t matter how good you are with words and expressions, those come from the world of reality and they’ll never be enough for infinity.