As a child, the gift of creating meaningful sentences set me apart from the crowd of students during standardized tests. This particular talent also set me up for some light teasing since it was applied to electives such as yearbook and journalism. I had an early realization of what my calling in life would be and the experience was a liberating one.
I have the soul of a writer. I see words and phrases like bubbles floating through the air. I daze out in the middle of conversations and conjure up an alternate universe or ending. I create characters out of inanimate objects and supply a plot for their stage play. From the moment I open my eyes to the late hour I actually lay my head down, writing consumes my every waking moment and possibly my dreams.
My condition could be likened to an addiction for when I go long periods of time without writing, my personality changes and my mood darkens. I’m not interested in anything about the outside world until I get some words down on paper. Don’t talk to me about your problems because not writing is bigger than the drama you’re representing. I’ll quickly tune you out and retreat to my world of words and phrases.
It takes a special person to be in a relationship with a writer. It takes patience, perserverence and understanding. It takes accepting that writing is the other woman and your partner is constantly cheating on you. It takes believing in the writer you’ve fallen in love with and helping them through the tough times of writer’s block.
My soul requires writing and thankfully, my fiancee realizes she fell in love with a writer. She gives me the space I need to stretch my literary wings and will even provide the necessary motivation with a well-turned demand, i.e. “Get in there and finish my story!” Then again, she is a sapiosexual so it was probably easy for her to understand the inner workings of my brain.