I’m a writer, and sometimes – pretty much always – the worlds I write about become more and more real to me, and, when they do, I want to escape and journey into that world.
As a writer, while writing my books, I often get pulled into the world of my imagination, and the people around me no longer exist. Instead, I’m in a land of pirates or magic; of mermaids or princesses; of warriors and kingdoms. When my characters speak, I can hear it clearly as if it weren’t just words on a page. When they laugh or cry, when they yell or whisper, it feels as if they’re right beside me. When I write, I learn that I’m not being drawn into a fake world, but a world as real as ours.
As a writer, I realize that dragons exist, or that I have magical powers I never even knew of. I discover that there is kingdom after kingdom of trouble and adventure that is just around the corner. My characters are my friends, and I have great hopes and dreams for each and every one of them. I’m closer to my characters than anyone I’ve ever met in real life, and I know more about them than anyone else.
As a writer, I have been to the places my characters visit millions of times in my imagination. I know what the city smells like, or how many flowers are sprinkled throughout the field. I know how bright the grass is, or how full the well is. I know every little piece of moss that grows on the rocks, and every abandoned building that lies waiting in the forest.
I am a writer.