If I hadn't ended up as a writer I'd have been an actor. Now that's a stretch, even for my (hopefully healthy) imagination. I've never been anywhere near greasepaint, footlights, auditions and nor would I want to. And if I had, I would be among the disappointed masses rather than the chosen few. But my other life is, nonetheless, as an actor. In my head, when I'm working, that's primarily what I'm doing - casting off myself and slipping into a role. Writing is at some level an intellectual process, but it is also about being present and open and allowing your instincts to preside. It's about trying to see the world in a different way, through someone else's eyes, and making space for emotions and reactions that you might otherwise suppress. I move around my study, pacing through a scene. Sometimes I mumble. More often the voice remains in my head where I can hear it better. I must look pretty unhinged. There's no one there to see. On a good day I give a terrific performance and am exhausted by it. My study window overlooks a pond. The geese fly up - a standing ovation.
I go to my desk and try to get it down in words.
