The Dilemma Which Belongs to a Writer

This is something I’ve been thinking about for months.

Well, really, my entire life.

And it seems like something most writers must go through, or at least I feel like it stems from my writing-conscious.

But maybe I’m just cray-cray, who knows.

And it is this:

I feel like I have so many characters running around in my head at any given time, that sometimes I’m not sure what my character is. Which of all these personalities is right? How do I know? What if they are all wrong together??

Let’s throw a few out there:

  • Punk Rock Chick: she doesn’t care about anything. She wears jeans and t-shirts and lots of plastic jewelry. She listens to her music way too loud but she doesn’t care if it bothers anyone around her. She’s bored unless the car is speeding, the guitar is screaming, and the guys are good kissers.
  • The Flower Child: she’s sweet, calm, generous, and never says anything bad about anyone. She has the time and patience for anyone, except litterers and environment destroyers. She loves wearing dresses and flowers in her hair. She wishes people didn’t feel the need to live in concrete structures. Treehouses will do just fine. Also not opposed to being a groupie.
  • The All Business: Don’t get in her way, she’ll run you over. Nothing can stop her from achieving. And she’s totally willing to justify the means to get her ends. Men are toys.
  • The Black Diva: Sass and song are this woman’s soul. She will love you harder than you’ve ever been loved, and she will tear you apart deeper than you’ve ever been torn if you cross her. And do not, EVER, insult her singing voice because she is Aretha and Beyonce, combined.
  • The Fangirl: This girl knows more trivia about more subjects than Wikipedia. And she’s detailed. And she can identify a chosen fan subject (let’s say, Benedict Cumberbatch) from a mere pixel of information. She’d make and excellent receptionist, if she could handle that much human interaction.
  • The Ninja: She quiet, the kind of person you don’t notice when they enter or leave a room. But while she’s in the room, she’s identified everyone, and all their weaknesses, physical and emotional. She knows how to take them all out, too, but no one’s provoked her, so why draw attention to herself? Vanish.
  • The Captain America: He knows what’s right and wrong, and he sticks to it. The world is black and white, and moral ambiguity is a phrase that’s never entered his vocabulary. Sick, wounded, and children? Love them. Will save them. Douchebags? Hate them. Will take them down so hard, they’ll wake up surrounded by penguins in Antarctica, and think they’re home.
  • The Seducer: This character changes gender, but either way, no living, human flesh can resist. So smooth, Swiss chocolate wants to be them.
  • The Prankster: Why so serious? He’s not. Ever. Like that isn’t even a concept in his brain, which may or may not be fully developed. Here’s what matters: how fast do you think I need to go to get air from that speed bump?

The more I write them, the more I can think of. And I just hop in and out of these at any given time, with or without warning. They all have unwritten (or written somewhere) stories in my head, and when I feel progression coming on in those stories is when I most often slip into character.

So what do you think, is this a writer problem? Or a mental illness?


3 responses to “The Dilemma Which Belongs to a Writer

  1. I’ve always wondered if anyone is content with who they are..I know I’m more like the flower child but I would love to be the Ninja 😅
    Unfortunately my head is usually in the clouds and the only thing I’ve observed in a crowded room is where the food at?

  2. That actually sounds kind of normal. I’ve often felt like I was trying to be one of those characters. The real me (and the real you) is a mix of many of them, or a chameleon. The key, I think, is that you are HAPPY with whichever one you are being at any given moment, thus being true to your true self, whatever mix it may be.

  3. Number one fan of diversity? God. I think trying to settle on one is how we stumble into mental illness.

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