There was a movie in the late 1990's "The Sixth Sense" where the main character, a kid named Cole says "I see dead people.... walking around like regular people."
Perhaps being a writer of fiction is something like that; carrying people who never really existed around in your head, observing them and relating their story to readers. In my case, not really a writer of fiction (apart from my own maleness perhaps), I give life to people who have never really walked beside me, yet for me they are real enough to provide invaluable help along the way.
In a recent post the genetic woman I might have been, Beth rescued me from the doldrums. Her perspective gave me positive feelings about who I am, and how those feelings both up and down are normal and right. Together we live a motto that is likely to be shared by many: One Day at a Time.
Perhaps being a writer of fiction is something like that; carrying people who never really existed around in your head, observing them and relating their story to readers. In my case, not really a writer of fiction (apart from my own maleness perhaps), I give life to people who have never really walked beside me, yet for me they are real enough to provide invaluable help along the way.
In a recent post the genetic woman I might have been, Beth rescued me from the doldrums. Her perspective gave me positive feelings about who I am, and how those feelings both up and down are normal and right. Together we live a motto that is likely to be shared by many: One Day at a Time.
"Dreamtime encounters" with alternate or past selves may not be as good as meeting people with new ideas, but because I have permitted myself the luxury of imagination and taken the time to record those 'meetings', I understand better than ever how making choices over a lifetime works, how natural but futile it is to feel regret and how a feeling of guilt over some choices is natural, among other things. Perhaps best of all, I understand how shame corrodes our lives and must be recognized and left behind every time it tries to drown our hearts.
Another kind of conversation in our mind is often report by transgendered individuals; that between the male and female sides of our personalities. Early on in my blogging days, I reported on those conversations. The act of writing these out was cathartic and theraputic.
The conversation between the grumpy man and his life-loving oh so feminine companion continued for a while after I last posted on the topic and eventually the name of the blog changed to reflect that. For the first months it had been "Maintaining the Façade".
Is there a façade here now? The answer is simple. Until I can report the person in the mirror is unquestionably female, then there is still a façade. Currently it is much richer (read female) and easier to live with.
A more difficult question is, are there still two spirits here? Well, I've wondered about "An infinite number of spirits in one Halle" on the masthead. Way too bulky to fit, but you get the idea.
No need to worry about some sort of breakdown. Au contraire. I don't live in some dreamworld, populated by phantoms. There is power in imagination however, and I am not afraid to use that fertile imagination to flesh out and give life to useful ideas that otherwise might be quickly forgotten.
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