Unfettered

Last night, Demon Baby and I were the only ones home. We were going to play the Wii, but without Oldest Son to press all the buttons for me, I was unable to get it working.

"Well, Demon Baby, let's play pirates."

For those who don't know, Demon Baby firmly believes I am a pirate. My boat is in dry dock when I gave up the high seas because that life was too dangerous for my children. But when Demon Baby is old enough, we will sail together. I even have a gold crown on a back tooth to prove I am a pirate.

So Demon Baby made a map. And we went up to our ship (my bed), and the adventure began. We fought schools of shark, and he caught one and forced me to eat it since he felt I was looking a little weak. We tossed someone off the gangplank. He gave me his LAST container of fresh water since he is the BEST pirate in the world and not even THIRST can defeat him. I thought this a rather noble gesture for a pirate.

The game went on for two hours, growing more elaborate by the minute. We had magic blue beans and potions, we had gold coins, but also magic chalices. We mixed fantasy elements. We went wherever he wanted to sail. At some point, he was a guitar-playing Ninja pirate. We went with it. He entertained the other pirates.

If you want to be a mother, you have to spend some time in the world of your children on a basic heart-to-heart level. If you want to write for children, you have to enter their world.

Writing middle-grade fantasy fiction has taught me to toss away a lot of rules. It's an unfettered world. Like Demon Baby's pirate world, sometimes middle-grade will go in completely unexpected directions. In Magickeepers II, I have a scene that takes place inside a pyramid with chattering hieroglyphics. I have things happen that even I did not expect. Like who knew D.B. Cooper was a Magickeeper!? Gravity doesn't even apply sometimes in that world. After all, Isaac Newton WAS a Magickeeper.

I think the best thing a writer can do sometimes is daydream. It may not look like work, but it is. Unfetter your mind from some rules and just see what happens. If you're stuck, I can loan you Demon Baby.

Thoughts? How much of what happens in your books is a result of unfettered daydreaming? Do you make time to daydream? Ahoy, Mateys!

Daydreamer

All my life, I have been a daydreamer. I would think nothing of going to bed early with the express purpose of making sure I had a half-hour or so to daydream before I fell asleep (which I guess makes me a night daydreamer). I would think nothing of reclining on the grass outside during the day, staring up at the clouds and daydreaming. Or sitting in the doctor's office waiting room having whole conversations in my head related to an imaginary happening. Which I guess makes me sound crazy, but I rather like to think it's because I'm a writer--always have been even when I was a kid.

For me, daydreaming is a way of sorting out how I am feeling about something. It's great fantasy. It's a way of sorting out my stories for writing. I indulge daydreaming and find it's a great stess reliever, and Lord knows I need stress relief.

My daydreams tend to unfold like movies. They go in order, sort of like storyboards, but I skip the boring parts. There's dialogue and setting . . . and usually there is nothing to do with the activities of daily living--no laundry, no dishes (they magically get clean), no bills to pay, no children whining that there's nothing "good" to eat in the house, and most especially no significant other. He's never in them, I would say likely because he doesn't ever contribute to making my life easier as far as bill paying, laundry, and most especially cleaning of any sort, etc. So it would make sense in my daydream that he would vanish, in favor, likely, of someone who helps around the house for those imaginary activities of daily living, which magically get done anyway in daydreams. In fact, I guess my daydreams are really about gay men (all my gay guy pals are GREAT housekeepers) who happen to be straight for the purposes of a daydream. My daydreams occasionally involve winning the lottery, and usually involve living someplace QUIET with horses. My kids are sometimes in my daydreams, and they are always perfectly behaved and happy in them.

My daydreams are vivid enough to lift my mood or depress me. I can cry over a daydream. And I wonder . . . do most people daydream? Only writers? Only crazy people?

So . . . do you daydream?