by Charlaine Harris
It’s almost impossible to explain my creative process in words, which is kind of ironic, really. I feel pretentious even using the phrase “my creative process,” as if it were kind of gaudy or artsy of me to tell people I have one. But after so many books, I can’t deny that writing is a product of skill and talent, and using that particular skill and talent is a process. Must be.
I see things in my mind’s eye.
When I am writing from the point of view of the protagonist, I AM the protagonist. I’m right inside her but aware of her, very much like a video game controller. When she answers the door, I answer the door.
In my mind. It would be pretty weird and time-consuming to do that literally. Plus, think of the flies.
So here I am, silently walking around inside one of my heroines. I only wish I could burn calories that way, with all this silent walking and running and house cleaning and bedroom activity. Wouldn’t that be cool?
While I’m having this out-of-body experience, I’m figuring out what will happen next. Who will I find when I dig up the body in my woods? I’ve opened a grave three or four times to find out who’s inside. If it wasn’t someone amusing, I fill the grave in and then dig again.
I walk through this inside my noggin every working day. My brain is a busy place, full of flashing lights and alternate plot lines. It’s no wonder I have trouble remembering names and birthdays, what with all the other activity inside. I don’t know if other writers do this, but it does make my work life entertaining. And that’s what it’s all about. If I can entertain a few other people along the way . . . yahoo.