Musings on figments

So each blog post should be some snippet of existential wisdom, right?

Here's one for today:

I'm painting my bathroom. And I'm reviewing a publishing contract. And listening to my kids watch TV. And doing customer service emails for a company. And wondering what we're going to do for health insurance. And trying to decide what's for lunch.

Who are we? It depends on which hat we're wearing at the time. I'm a mom, a novelist, a customer support tech, a maid, a cook, a chaffeur, a nurse, a financial consultant, a whatever-I-need-to-be-at-the-time. So, at this second? Confused.

My novel, Nexus Point, is almost ready to hit the shelves. A few minor details to mop up, a date to set, and I'm published. It's frightening at the same time it's exhilirating. Like the line from a song, it's like I'm naked in front of the crowd because these words come from me, my soul on paper. Sort of.

Writing a first person novel is intriguing. I'm so deep in my character's head I don't know where she stops and I start anymore. I dream her life. And I wonder if she's dreams mine, except she lives in my head in a universe that exists only in my imagination.

Now I have a chorus of very unhappy characters letting me know they don't appreciate being figments of my imagination. Maybe I've reached the stage in my writing where they need to come live in your head for a while. In a few weeks, they can start doing just that.

From my head to yours. Enjoy.

How's that for existential?