I am finding it harder to live “real life” as my writer’s brain is overlaying fictional motivations, tensions, and plots onto my friends, coworkers, and families. Seems I am creating these high tension plot points from innocent questions such as: “Your spaghetti tastes a bit different. Did you use garlic?” My mind immediately thought that the speaker thought the dinner was poisoned would soon refuse to finish it. Or phrases like: “I can’t make it to the party, something came up.” My mind immediately thought that the reason that the person changed plans was: they were trying to distance themselves from me for something they thought I did, but I can’t explain away that “something”, because I don’t know what something is.
My anxiety level rose so high, I started to hole myself up in the house, avoiding “something” horrendous from happening.
But then I did something AMAZING. I let go. Instead of harboring these anxieties over situations that aren’t really happening, I started writing them out, journal style. More words are now flowing than ever before. But, I can’t seem to get them organized the next set of plot twists come along to screw it all up. However, writing them down let me see through my imagination long enough to find that my imagination has overtaken me too much.
I can’t tell yet if this is a good thing or a bad one. Probably both. Good in that I know what is going on and I have a coping mechanism in place. Bad in that I have no hold on my imagination and too many fragmented stories.
Maybe I need to apologize to my family, friends, and co-workers…