I can’t Write Normal

This weekend I was asked why I don’t I write something “normal” or something that isn’t filled with things that could never in a million years happen. I was asked this because the person would really like to read something I’ve written, she just doesn’t like those action/adventure, out of this world, fantasy, science fiction novels; whereas I do.

As much as I’d love to write something that she would really enjoy, my mind can’t seem to grasp the concept of normalness to fill the pages. Sure, I can start off on a new project with my mind set on making it your average, run of the mill book. The type where the guy gets the girl and they spend their lives proving their love to one another. My project might start out this way, but something happens and my mind switches to the abnormal very, very quickly.

The idea of my characters falling in love will almost always take a drastic turn for the dangerous side of things. They’ll hit a speed bump (literally) and run into monsters or bad guys or some sort of alien that drops down from the sky to ruin everything. (There’s a little inside on what The Day The World Burns is about.)

I thrive on the stories that are so packed full of fictional adventure that I’m not sure if I’ll make it out alive or not. My head enjoys the thrill of the ride while reading and writing stores or books that get your heart pumping. The ones that keep you on the edge of your seat with action and perilous tasks that leave you wanting more. I know romance novels and coming of age stories, and other types along that line are also filled with edge of your seat words and there might be a day where I find myself sitting down to write something like that. However, at this point in my life, I just can’t do it.

I can’t do normal when normal is boring.

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What if…

I’m a bit of a believer of life after death. I tend to think that there’s more to be experienced in a different life once this one is fulfilled. Being a writer with an insane imagination, my mind took that thought and came up with a what if scenario for those who are imaginative and weird like myself.

If you’re anything like me and you come spend 90% of the day daydreaming and having little stories in your head, then you’ve lived a ton of lives in your own imagination. Now, let’s say those stories and random thoughts are more than that. What if they’re actually memories from a different life on a different planet or in some sort of parallel universe? What if  you’ve already lived a dozen or so lives before this one and your soul has travelled millions upon millions of miles to get where it is today?

I don’t know about you, but I’m not exactly sure that’s a good thing. In my case, half of the stories I think of and daydream about are terrifying. I’d hate to imagine living in a world with zombies, vampires, monsters, aliens, etc. In my head, I’m the main female character. I get in trouble a lot and wind up in sticky situations. If, by some chance, my stories are actually memories (I’m doubting they are) then I’ve lived a lot of scary lives. I’ve been kidnapped, I’ve fought aliens and demons, I’ve travelled the world through hell and back just to save the one I love. It’s adventurous and wonderful, yet terrifying and exhausting to think about.

I’m sure my thoughts are nothing more than thoughts. That my dreams are simple stories created by the mind of a person who craves the abnormal parts of life. But, and this is a very bit but, if there’s any chance that they are more than just dreams and stories, I’m a little afraid to find out where my soul might head to next. I hope she’s prepared.

Alternate Dimensions?

Tonight I read something strange that could really get your imagination going. It was just a simple meme, but I tend to overthink about the things that spark my creative side. It went something like this:

“What if there are multiple yous living in alternate dimensions and your dreams are you viewing what your other selves are doing.” (I’m not sure who said this. I only know it’s a meme somewhere.)

That really makes you wonder sometimes.

If by some totally random chance this is true, I don’t know if I should feel sorry or be completely jealous of my other mes. Some of them live crazy, exciting lives, while others are constantly fighting to get away from the bad guys. Of course, I’d be all over the me that has the super powers and saves the human race from total destruction. Then again, I wouldn’t mind being the bad guy who takes over the world. (Just kidding!)

I suppose it’s statements like this one that really works at my imagination and drives me to write even more. I live through my characters and let them do the risky events that keep them alive and most of the time there are a lot of bad guys chasing after them. In all honestly, I don’t think I’d last a day with the other mes in my head. I’d be on the ground, in the fetal position, waiting for it all to be over with.

I think I’ll stick with writing instead!