Thursday, 19 July 2007

When People Watching Ceases To Be

While driving to pick up my daughter from work, I found my self studying the clouds. They bloomed upward into a brilliant blue sky and glowed with pink highlights from the setting sun. They looked almost solid, not like a collection of water vapour.

That got me thinking -- how often do I catch myself describing what I see?

Sitting in the mall, waiting for the kids to finish browsing in Electronics Boutique -- I scan the people who pass by and take note of shape, clothing, eyes, hair. I try to imagine what they're thinking.

Sights, sounds, smells... they're all translated into words. I don't just have feelings anymore. They must break out into prose. The internal words flow over me like a breeze. I don't write them down, I just hope that I'll recall them later.

Does this phenomenon strike all writers? Am I making any sense?


Bernita said...

Yes and yes.

Chumplet said...

Bernita! I checked out your blog and darn you, I now have to go through the whole thing.

Ontario, huh? Inquiring minds want to know.

By the way, I love Kreighoff.

MelBell said...

Oh definitely and fur shur, Sandra. I suppose that's what inspires most writers to write in the first place - the compulsion, the desire to describe their environment, etc. in such a way so that others may know and share them as well.

Bernita said...

Heh, heh.
If you do, you'll find the answer.
I'm a transplant.

wordtryst said...

Yes, I have this compulsion to wrap words around everything to try to realize them that way, or maybe to freeze the moment.

stephe said...

It absolutely does, often at the most inopportune moments. LOL

And yes, you are.

Chumplet said...

We writers may think we're alone, but we're not. Thanks for letting me know I'm not insane, or floating in some word-filled alternate universe where others dare not tread.