I’ve long felt that talking to myself was the best bet if I wanted to have an intelligent conversation. This has nothing to do with how smart I am. It’s simply that I am the authority on me. So, if the knife brushes my finger while I’m slicing zucchini, I will ask Myself if I need to get out the antibiotic cream and bandages or just rinse it off and keep going.
I know I can count on Myself for an answer that best fits my personality. Even if it’s just a minor scrape, the response will take into consideration: 1) How much I will worry about it if I don’t doctor it; 2) How many times I will look at my finger and think that I should have treated it; 3) How much time I will spend standing at the sink, deciding what to do.
Me: Am I being ridiculous?
Myself: Rinse it and slap a Band-Aid on it so you won’t worry.
Bingo. Just the answer I needed. My zukes are sliced, sprinkled with Parmesan cheese and baking in no time and I am enjoying a congratulatory pat on the back with my bandaged hand. While both Myself and I know that a medical intervention was not a necessity physically, we also know it was a psychological imperative.
If I had chosen to seek a second opinion from a friend who is more rational than I am – that would be all my friends – the answer would likely have been, “Don’t give it a thought. You’re fine.” And therein would be the problem. I am incapable of not giving it a thought. Hence the conversations with Myself, the person who knows me best.
These exchanges definitely carry over to my writing.
Me: Does this adjective work or should I keep searching?
Myself: Keep searching.
At that point, I will likely leave my computer and take a stroll around the house seeking inspiration. It’s amazing how many adjectives are floating around the average house. Just the bookshelves alone are a virtual adjective repository. They can be messy, but inviting. Enticing in a way that compels you to sit down in front of them and sample their offerings.
This exercise is so much fun that I almost always come away with extras. I mean what writer can’t use an extra bag of adjectives?
Me: Look at my stash.
Myself: Did you find the one you needed for this story?
Me: I found one I didn’t know I needed that works better than the one I was looking for.
I love our little talks.
Email patriciabunin@sbcglobal.net. Follow her on Twitter @patriciabunin
