Little Voices and Big Ideas

Writers are insane. It’s true. We really are.

Think about it.

Little people live inside our heads and talk to us. Incessantly. Sometimes we can ignore them
because they honestly sound like Charlie Brown’s teacher—you know, “Wa-Wa-Wawa-Wa.” At
times, they can be conversational, filling us in on juicy gossip about our neighbors who like to
drive their lawnmower down to the country store or the student who wears two different colored
sneakers to school but only on Tuesdays. It’s at these moments we writers sit up and pay
attention as if we were in class and the teacher suddenly announced a new essay assignment
due in three days. Perhaps we’re not necessarily writing anything, but conversation is the
cornerstone for ideas and usually we find ourselves sitting down at the computer to see what
words will manifest themselves on our screens.

And then there are the times when those little people inside our heads wake up full throttle on at
least four Monster Energy drinks, shouting into a microphone that’s hooked up to an amplifier
which echoes through a bull horn. (Which really begs the question of just how little these “little”
voices are.) We can’t get to a computer fast enough because writing down whatever is being
broadcast at stadium roar volume inside a four-by-four space is the only way to get them to go.
Back. To. Sleep. Or at least bring it down to a dull rumble so that we can actually think about
what they’re telling us.

I have a writer friend who claims that, at times, her characters will sit in the backseat of her car
and prop their feet up on the center console. That’s when she knows her fingers had better find
a keyboard, and fast. (And this is completely within the realm of “normal” for writers.)
This is why it is not at all surprising to find us writers talking to ourselves. After all, characters
are people, too, and to ignore them when they have something to say can be just as dangerous
as ignoring one of Mrs. Weasley’s Howlers at the Hogwarts breakfast table. If you’ve ever
passed me at a stoplight, you have probably glimpsed me having a very intense, eye-rolling
conversation with absolute no one else in the vehicle. I can assure you—there is a presence,
and one of us is most likely being stubborn.

Still, when all is said and done, no matter how they have gotten our attentions, we writers
usually find these little voices have rather big ideas that will pan out—for a little while anyway.
Sometimes those ideas even develop into books (justification for our level of crazy). Therefore,
don’t discount the little people inside your head, and don’t ever worry about whether the
teenagers sitting in the car next to you are contemplating calling the police for the “crazy old
lady who’s talking to herself.”

It’s just very likely that the writer inside you is struggling to free itself.