The Voices in My Head

"My name is John Miller, formerly Lance Corporal John Miller of the United States Marine Corps. I'm a 41 year old man who has lived most of his civilian life int he land surrounding Canby, Oregon.  I was born here, raised here, and left alone here."

"My name is Jeanna Margaret Pendergrass, named after my grandmother Jean Margaret Pendergrass.  The best thing my mother did for me was add the "A" to my name.  Like that lucky letter, my life has shown me, again and again, that I always come first."

Yesterday was a writing day.  I got a couple of new pages on the novel worked out, a first draft of a "chapter", and some revision done.  At a couple of points during the day, voices spoke to me out of the ether.  As a writer, I try to be attuned to these voices.  I pick up the low mumbles, their static whispers, and try and transcribe them on the page in an effort to give them shape, form, voice.

The two quoted passages above are two distinct voices that came to me yesterday.  They speak to me in their own voice, with their own inflection, and their own personalities.  I don't feel like they are a part of me, but part of some greater consciousness that we all tap into at some time or other in our lives.  I can always tell when I'm having a good writing day when some of these "visitors" arrive at my office.

I met two new people yesterday.  I don't know if they are friend or foe yet, but I've met them, said my "How do you do?" Now, I must get to know them.  I must interview them, listen to them, and let them exercise the full extent of their free will all over the white canvas of a blank page.