Yesterday I was merrily walking about, talking to myself, or to be more specific, talking the dialog (both sides) for a new scene I’m adding in to my manuscript, when I was spotted by some dog walkers. This was fine apart from it was a particularly emotionally charged scene, so these poor people came across me, a strange person wondering the countryside, arguing loudly with myself. When I spotted them, I stopped, smiled, and cheerily said ‘hello!’ They politely responded, as they warily tiptoed around me and picked up pace, looking over their shoulders to make sure I did not follow.
I thought this rather odd behaviour, as I frequently walk and talk both the narrative and dialog of my story, and have on many occasions passed other people. Never before has anyone seen me, and run off in fear, whilst calling the men in white jackets from their mobiles.
So, it got me wondering; why now?
The answer is a simple one. When I was doing the initial write for TME, I spent a lot of time walking, and talking to myself. But, the crucial difference was that I wasn’t by myself, I was with my dog Theo.
Theo, my lovely ginger wire-haired Dachshund (sausage dog), accompanied me on these walks and heard the whole story as it unfolded. It seems now that he served as more than just an ambling companion, but as my writer’s ‘superheroes’ mask, protecting my secret writing persona, and sanity, against anyone who might think that I was otherwise a loony, talking to myself.
Strangely, it seems to be culturally acceptable to talk to, or even argue with a dog, but not to yourself!
With all this, I suddenly missed my dear old walking partner who sadly passed away last year.
So today’s dilemma is; do I buy a new dachshund? Or, run the risk of being sectioned?
RIP Theo – and thank you for listening!