It’s amazing how I can lose track of time when I’m writing. Or editing. I fall into a bubble where nothing else exists. I forget to eat. I don’t answer the phone. I fail to notice the light outside is fading. My ass hasn’t even slipped into a coma, which is odd considering I’ve been parked on it since 7 this morning.
So what I want to know is this: Is writing a form of self-hypnosis?
If I write about someone running a marathon, can I benefit from that fictional exercise in a vicarious, placebo-type manner? You know, I believe it, I think it, therefore I burn calories and get my heart pumping, even while I sit glued to keyboard and sceen?
Meanwhile, someone like Katie-Sue combines NaNo with a day of actual physical labour moving to a new house, and I have no idea how she shifts between two worlds. Kind of like women who work full time and have children at the same time.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. I just wonder how I get engrossed in a ficticious reality without being aware of actual reality.
Is this time travel or proof of mankind’s superior brain? I’d say the latter, but humans haven’t seemed to grasp the futility of waging war. So I guess I’ll wait for a monkey with language skills like dear departed Washoe to write a novel or play that puts Shakespeare to shame.
Maybe I should eat before I blither on about something really stoopid.
Sandra Antonelli 
today’s rant
Good evening .. well we were on a soapbox today, huh? what kicked it off? who and what was the trigger?
i agree with you about the over-supply of the “same” kind of shows on tv based on the $. this is part of the reason why i’m so blanded out about tv, and don’t need one in my lounge room.
i like vampire paranormals where the traditions are overturned about vampiric life – they love garlic, they aren’t dead and are just another race. That’s interesting. sometimes the same old same old is just old. 🙂
Elle
LikeLike