All my life, my brain has always been busy making up stories. All the time. In first grade, I almost failed because--even though I was at the top of the class in reading, spelling, and math--I would sit and stare out the window all the time. (Can we say ADD???) I would weave stories with casts of characters that would go on for years, LOL. I still remember snippets of some of them!
You can imagine how disconcerting it was to me when I discovered that everyone isn’t the same. Today, the dear Mister and I had this conversation:
"Whatcha’ thinking about," I asked.
"That’s impossible," I said. "You have to be thinking about something."
"Why? I’m just driving. I’m not thinking about anything."
"Nothing? Your mind is just blank."
We drove in silence for awhile.
"Well, what were you thinking about?" he challenged.
"Two people were fighting about something."
He looked at me like I was crazy.
Well, am I? Or is this a writer thing, to have stories incessantly weaving in one’s head? Or do you think it’s a little weird to be sitting there and not thinking? To me, that’s a little frightening! Maybe it’s a guy thing.