I’m going to go out on a limb now and share something with you that I don’t really share with anyone. Come a little closer so I can whisper it…Closer…Okay, ready? I’m a writer.
I usually keep this bit of information close to the chest because people who run around claiming to be writers without ever really writing anything make me a little crazy, and I don’t want to be like that. I’m not published in any sense other than the “post my own stories online” sense, so I’m not going to run around pretending to be a professional. I’m an amateur hack, but gosh darn it, I do write.
The book project I’ve had simmering in the back of my mind for five or six years started making it’s way out of my head and onto the page almost two years ago. Just a bit of sci-fi nonsense, but writing anything worth reading around full-time work or classes is harder than I would have imagined. Since handing my finals in, however, I’ve been a free woman (apart from the whole search for a “real” job), and this free woman has spent some time cracking down on her dream ticket out of the rat race.
Being a dream, my visions of what it’s like to be a best-selling sci-fi author are very distinctly colored with delusions of grandeur. I was thinking about my book yesterday as I tidied up the apartment, playing the game of imagining who I’d like to cast in the starring roles if my book ever got made into a movie. I imagined sweeping Brad Pitt (too pretty boy), Hugh Jackman (too edgy), and Harrison Ford (sadly, too old) aside and asking the director to try to bring in Brendan Frasier. Ha. As if any of that would ever happen.
Of course, when John heard I would want to cast Brendan Frasier, he gave me a funny look and said, “Really? That’s not how I pictured Haven at all. Brendan Frasier is so goofy.” Well, yes. Yes, he is. But you write what you know, and as such, my main character has a lot in common with my husband. If that’s not saying enough, take another look at the video projects John and I made together. I happen to think that sexiness moderated by goofiness is ubersexy.
But this is completely beside the point. The real point in sharing this story was to tell you about my imaginary conversation with Harrison Ford. He looked so crushed when I told him that I would have snatched him up for the role in a heartbeat twenty years ago that I said, “Well, there is this one role…It’s minor, but I could beef it up for you.” Of course, he looked so happy in my little world of make-believe that I started to play around with how I actually might beef this character up…and realized very quickly that doing so would fix two or three major problems I’d been puzzling over how to solve.
And the point in sharing that point is to say that being a writer is odd. I spend a lot of time in my own head, having conversations with people who I will, in all likelihood, never have any reason to meet and then using these improbable interactions as tools for looking at my work in a different light. Not that I’m crazy for fame and fortune (though I wouldn’t turn down the fortune bit, if anyone’s offering :), but if you’re going to have an unbelievable conversation, you might as well make it good, right?
Today I think I will pay a visit on the Dalai Lama.