The Internal World Of An Author

I can’t speak for all writers, but this is what my internal world is like as an author.

I have a loud mind.

Stephen King once said quiet people have loud minds. I don’t know. I mean, I’m quiet when I have nothing to say, and I don’t ever have the need to hijack someone’s conversation . . .  so yeah, now that I think about it, I do have a loud mind.

My thoughts constantly scatter.

I can have a conversation with my husband and think of other things at the same time. Where I get into trouble is when he’s telling me something I’m not in the least bit interested in. I’ll focus on my thoughts instead and not hear a word he’s saying.

My mind always turns an unexplained noise or situation into a story.

This is so true, and nine times out of ten I’ll tell the person with me about it. And yes, that person looks at me like I grew another head—unless it’s another author I’m telling it to.

I'll compare real life situations to fictional ones.

I’ll compare a situation someone is in or was in or something that happened that’s relevant to one of my characters, and I’ll talk about it.

Self-induced stress.

Sometimes I become anxious and irritable when I have so many things to do like edits, rewrites, posting, marketing, etc. and not enough time to do them. Basically, I get overwhelmed, and my thoughts won’t stop whirling.

I have stories racing through my mind.

I have so many stories I want to write but not enough time to do so. 

I’m never bored.

It's very rare that I'm bored. I have too many things to do to get bored.


If I’m not working on a story, I get grumpy and depressed.


I get nervous and scared when other people reads my story.

I'm a serf to my imaginary friends.

My character’s talk to me, and they can get demanding to where I have to appease them. I am their slave.


I get excited and giddy when I’m creating a story. 

My characters crack me up and make me weep.

I laugh when one of my characters does something funny. I also cry when something bad happens to them.

So do I like being an author?


I frickin’ love it.


Because despite the anguish as an author I go through to churn out a novel and market it, I created something out of nothing. I have the ability to transfer what’s inside of me, onto paper, and into other people’s minds. I can share with them worlds and characters they never knew about. I can teach them lessons or at least get them to think on topics they never thought about before. I can make them laugh, cry, smile, and get frustrated. I can entertain them. I’m giving something to this world that more than likely will last well after I’m gone, which rocks.

Yes, I’m overwhelmed. 

But . . .

Being an author makes me happy and want to do a silly dance.

Enough said.