Reality, such a fickle thing

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Hey all! I saw this sticker the other day and was like, oh, yes. Yes, this is me.

I know we've talked often about how being writers makes us a little different, a little quirky even. Maybe it's not that we're different, maybe we just have a different reality.

In a world where walking down the street (wait, who am I kidding...) riding down the street in your super huge, Fancy Nancy car (that probably cost more than my college debt (no small number, let me assure you)), not noticing that the tulips just bloomed across the street or that the neighbor's puppy is suddenly a dog is reality, maybe, it's just our reality is different.

I first began to realize that being a writer made me different when I was walking down the street. I noticed a couple things I walked passed for years and never considered. Heck, I hardly knew they existed. Then suddenly, they were there and the world changed. I guess it was kind of like when a person with eye problems finally gets glasses and can see clearly. I could see all the details and more than that, a constant stream of prose began to run in my head. Everything I came across became a challenge. Could I describe it accurately? Could I really make the readers smell the bread baking or feel it's rough texture on their tongue? And the biggest challenge of all....can I make them believe in magic?

While I'm still working at it, I still find the challenge addicting and fun. So, what about you? What reality are you living in? Do you have a stream of prose running through your head...please say yeah, sometimes because if not this might be highly awkward.....*crickets*