I could be a cowboy. Or an Indian. I could be a horse. Oh, I was a good horse! A shiny white stallion. For years and years I had a picture post card of him standing guard over his mares in a mountain valley under a full moon. I’ve tried several times to find the picture the post card was based on by my google-fu has failed me. That scene is still vivid in my imagination. Which is what fuels pretending. Pretending is what I do best. Even as a kid. I had more imaginary friends than I did RL ones. I think the Universe is on to me, though…
Silver James! What are you doing back in time and space?
A-ha! I see. Pretending.
Is it true that the illusions are soooooo captivating, the coffee soooooo rich, and the chocolate soooooo creamy, it’s easy to forget you’re just making it all up? And that if you don’t like what you’re experiencing you choose new thoughts, words, and baby steps to transform it?
Yeah, I already know…
More maple syrup?
Pretending, Silver… it’s what you do in time and space.
And that’s why I’m a writer. I’d rather live in my head with made-up people. I do hope I make the characters and the stories real enough that it all seems real to y’all. Did you have an imaginary friend? What was its name? Mine was a Fae named Loyal (pronounced Loy-al, rather than low-e-ahl. Anyway…) And yes, Ariel in the Penumbra Papers is based on my memory of him.