Haunted by my own characters

Salvador Dali - Sleep

So the idea of this blog was that I would write to empty my head and share the inner workings of my mind (mostly) from a writing perspective. This means I have to tell you stuff.

I must have been feeling quite brave at the time of blog conception – actual creation and publishing was all so far away. Now, I have a blog connected to Facebook connected to Twitter in a beautiful circle of communication… that I’m not sure I’m ready to commit to.

Why? I hear you ask.

Well, I’ve only just started out on this platform and I don’t want you all to think I’m a complete loony, just yet. I wanted to wait a while before I did that to you. But then I went and wrote my first post and blabbed about my sleepless night so now I feel like I have to spill the beans on the ‘sleepless night’. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not totally unhinged but I have reservations about sharing information – I’m a very (VERY) private person.

BUT, then, I thought, we all have an inner loony – right? Some of you, (dear followers) I know, are well and truly off your rockers. (Not naming any names. At this point I should say something along the lines of – all views and opinions expressed in this blog are mine etc.)

Besides, if my book is ever published then you’ll know anyway. So, here I come out of the sanity closet – the first of my moonlit musings (yes, there are more).

One night during the summer holidays – while we were gripped by Olympic fever – I hadn’t written anything on my story for several weeks. Not even notes. I woke up after a spooky dream that really bothered me and couldn’t get back to sleep. If I can’t sleep I get up and empty my head of whatever is bothering me, then go back to bed having lightened my load. Anyway, I wrote this:

I can’t sleep. I haven’t written anything in days.
What can I do but empty my head into my hands?
And so this is what I’ve come up with.
To empty thoughts accumulated over the course of a day? Longer? Longer.
Who gives a rats ass what I think? Do you?
If my voice sounds different then it’s because this is my sleepless voice – introducing the insomniac. “Hi there!”
I think I sound like Milo when I can’t sleep – you’ll meet him later.
I need to stop this, this farting around and write.
Write the truth of my characters.
Give them a purpose.

Maybe that’s why I can’t sleep? They’re hanging around me like ghosts haunting me until I give them closure – I could do with some myself.

They’re just waiting. I dreamt they were there. All of them looking at me with sad expectant eyes, wondering what to do next.

I feel bad. Guilty for their hiatus.

They deserve more.


(The image I used is Salvador Dalí’s Sleep (Dalí is a big favourite of mine). The image represents a sleeping person – there is no body as bodies are irrelevant when sleeping. The head is enlarged because that’s the crucial anatomy of the dreamer. The crutches hold the sleeper in a dream state, precariously balanced. If one of the supports falls sleep is broken and the dreamer awakes. The landscape is bare, ready to be filled with images of the unconscious mind.)


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