I’m one of those “creative” types; when I say that, you know exactly what I mean. I might as well be right out of a textbook– Bipolar, ADHD, insomniac, head-in-the-clouds. The ultimate space cadet. For me, a tricky mind means that I’m getting high off my own chemicals one second and crashing two seconds later. But the silver lining, if you’re willing to look for it, is that sometimes that tricky thing in my skull makes pretty words.

As you read this, I’m likely typing up some crazy fantasy/sci-fi novel or short story at my favorite local cafe like every other writer trying to turn a “look Mom, I’m a real author!” pipe dream into reality. I’d rather create other worlds in the privacy of my office because, only there, am I able to crank my favorite Nine Inch Nails vinyl up to near deafening decibels. Honestly, nothing inspires me quite like Trent Reznor growling at me through a pair of legit speakers.

However, if I’m in the presence of other humanoids staring at their laptops while guzzling caffeine like they haven’t slept in a week, at least I know I’m not the only one tripping in wonderland. The Cheshire Cat said “We’re all a little mad around here” , and I’m prone to agree.

We fiction writers construct entire fantasy worlds in our heads to provide an escape from the cruel parts of real life, or if not to escape from it, we’re using that curse…sorry, I meant creativity…as a means of processing something, be it good, bad, or somewhere in between. Then again, sometimes I just write stories because it’s fun. Sometimes it’s really fun. I’ve laughed out loud at my own ridiculous plots and dialogue as though I was listening to legit hilarious stand up at a comedy club. Now, I’m not saying everyone will turn into human crying laughing emoji faces when they read my brilliant work, but that’s on them for not recognizing a genius joke when it slaps them right in the face. KIDDING.