writers easily confuse reality with fantasy, not whether other kinds of artists who are also feeling the same. But is that when I write, the elements of the world where I am, my room, my chair, my computer somehow become diffuse, they lose their essence, and this is replaced by something entirely new. This thing is what I write.
For someone who lives to write books (or at least trying with great difficulty doing so) this kind of feeling is really good, in fact, is excellent. The computer then becomes an extension of yourself, and slowly, word by word, the world that exists in your head makes its way, paragraph by paragraph, to the point that comes to fully invade that world that you and I call real.
Then come the feelings, the smells of this new world, the colors, sounds, everything is making its way and begins to accompany you, even when you're sitting in front of the monitor, but even when you're in the Metro, in the office, classroom, when you go to the bathroom and when you make love, the world created by your head as a writer by your side, is simply overwhelming. I've always considered wonderful and it is even beautiful when I stop to think, managed to bring fantasy worlds and make other people can see so clearly as I have them almost in my head, well, I guess that's why they call it art.
But in this art, as in all things, there is a downside.
down side.
Not all things that come out of your head are beautiful and not all the words you write are really poetry. In the worlds of my head as a writer, not only are kings, heroes and princesses, in the worlds of my head there are monsters.
creatures.
Some things.
And none of them is good.
They, like others, also out of my head, confused with reality. And it scares me, scares me a lot because they also follow me, follow me and watch my dream. Total the mind is a door that lets you see whether invented worlds for you or channeled through a connection with some higher being who dwells beyond the boundaries of what we so naively Actually, the problem not only is that those doors are opened when least expected, but there is a risk that just as open to unexpected havens that have nothing to envy to dull havens invented by religions can also be opened to hell so terrible that they can only by the grace of God's madness.
Over there I've heard (and read) about certain sites that have the particularity to inspire feelings of empathy "environmental" as a writer, ie establishing certain connections between the environment and the site itself the creative soul artist in question, that those who experience such inspirations, mere talk of being catalysts superior forces ordered them to write in a way that not only feel possessed by such forces, but the nature of the worlds that are unique in describing go far beyond mere recreation of a familiar environment, so different worlds of human imagination, the writer then feel you are seeing through the eye of a creature so strange that his mere imagination could make you crazy.
It happened with Lovecraft in New England, happened to Poe in Paris, happens to Stephen King in Maine ...
And it happens to me in Maracay.
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