Thursday, April 19, 2012

The Epic Process of Thinking in Conversations

I don't think in images. I understand this is kind of a weird thing to say. I mean, who doesn't think in images? Well, I don't.

I know a lot of people, perhaps because I know a lot of artists, who talk about just seeing an image in their mind so perfectly. I've rarely been able to do that. Every once in a while I get an image but it's only a snippet. Like fingertips brushing a cheekbone or a red scarf lying on an ice pond (part of a screenplay I wrote in college).

I don't usually get full images or pictures just like zoomed in pieces of them. When I read a book with a particularly cinematic scene I'm awestruck. The scene in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows where Hagrid is carrying Harry's body. Or the last page of Where Things Come Back. I just don't see things like that.

That's not to say that I don't think. Of course I think. I just think in conversations instead of pictures. So many scenes, stories, and even novels have been started all because of a conversation that randomly occurred to me. 90% of the time, I have some random dialogue between two random characters in my head. Sometimes it's from something that I'm working on. Sometimes it's a scene between two existing characters that I know will never fit into the project as a whole. Other times it is two random characters who don't exist within a current project.

For example, I've been considering doing a fictionalized account of working in a chocolate shop, using my #ChocolateShopWoes and such. I haven't done anything other than think about it but the other day I was dipping strawberries and this was going through my head (I wrote it down and added some actions later):

"God these look awful," Jean says, pulling a strawberry from the container.
"I know," I reply, sparing a glance at the offending berry.
"They're all crushed from being in the container." She tsks at the strawberry as if it were it's own fault for being crammed into the little plastic carton with too many others of its kind.
I set down the towel and take the fruit from her fingers. "It was probably a nice but misunderstood strawberry from the wrong side of the bush. Had so much potential but struggled to rise beyond its upbringing so it fell onto the wrong path. It was the hooker with the heart of gold before it was cruelly plucked from its leafy life and shoved into a harsh world of plastic packaging!"
Jean glares at me and takes the strawberry back. "No more strawberries for you. Go top apples or something."
I grin. "Those have lives too."

It's nothing spectacular but that is the kind of thing that runs through my mind. People talking about things. I have so many bits of conversations saved and written on scraps of paper. I've been debating sharing one a week with all of you here on my not so epic blog.

What about all of you? It doesn't matter if you write or not? Do you think it images? Conversations? Stick Figures? Colors? Music?

Do you think it changes the way you experience things like books or movies? How about the way you relate to other people?

I have something else planned as well to be more involved on the blog. I'll talk to you all soon!


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