Wow... this'll be an interesting discussion. Okay, so, most of you on here are writers, right? I was wondering if anyone else has ever felt this way... it's really hard to explain, but I'll give it a go.
Strange things seem to happen when I'm reading a book for the first time. It doesn't really matter who it's by, what it's about, or whether I like it or not -- things just seem to happen. Every single time. But only the first time; reading the book again -- twice, three times, even just re-reading a sentence or a paragraph -- the effect that was just on me is lost, and it's just reality and myself. But it's the first time that scares me a little.
Take, for example, today -- I was reading a Stephen King novel for the first time, when I reached a break in the story. I decided I'd take a break, put the bookmark in the book, and shut it. The aftermath was immediate, but swift; for 10-20 seconds (if even that much) I wasn't even in my own mind anymore. I couldn't tell you what I truly mean by that even if I wanted to. The words would've come and gone before I'd even hit the key on the keyboard. It doesn't just happen with novels, either; it could be a paragraph from a history book, or a story in the literature book. They always have the same effect.
For that short space of time, there are three parts to my mind. One part is the mechanical: keep walking, don't have your mouth hanging open like that, they'll think something's wrong, unglaze your eyes, breathe. Things essential to blend into society, to act normally, the things you sometimes need to think about. It tries to bring you into the present. Another part is the writer's side of my brain; frantically stringing words, sentences, paragraphs, with raw emotion so strong you're almost brought to a stand-still with the mechanical part. Characters scream and burn, lovers love and die... the sort of thing that most serious writers subconsciously think about, then when it's brought to the surface you're mildly surprised.
The final part is the anomaly; I've absolutely no idea what it does. I know it's there; it's the reason the mechanical and the writing parts are trying so hard to do what they do. It blocks me from having any coherent thoughts at all about what's going on; the mechanical and writing sides end up meshing and become entangled, forcing two lines of thought at the same time that may continue onward for up to 10 minutes after the originally effect. . . as aftershocks. The third train of thought is there, I know it is, but I can't make out what it's trying to say. There's probably a word for it, but I certainly have no idea. It's like an old friend is standing with open arms on the other side of the room but you can't reach him because there's an almost opaque wall between you.
The problem is, when I've got enough of myself together that I can try to think about it, it slips away. Either I can't seem to focus on what's going on because the mechanical and writing sides are agruing too much, or just because it won't stay put long enough for me to grab it. It's like snapping your fingers; the sound is gone before you can truly grasp what it sounded like. You can snap your fingers again, or think back on it, but it's not the same.
It only happens that once, and only when un-submerging myself from a book, or anything that requires a lot of focus, really. Just the first time. It's uncomfortable feeling, but not, it's a warm feeling, but not. I don't know what to make of it, and I probably won't for several years to come, but still. It's almost like I've got two people living in my head -- me, and this unidentable presense that likes to confuse me.
Aaaaaahh... my brain's beginning to hurt. So, let's discuss -- have you ever felt this way? Are there technical terms for it?
(*cough* psycho *cough*)
Strange things seem to happen when I'm reading a book for the first time. It doesn't really matter who it's by, what it's about, or whether I like it or not -- things just seem to happen. Every single time. But only the first time; reading the book again -- twice, three times, even just re-reading a sentence or a paragraph -- the effect that was just on me is lost, and it's just reality and myself. But it's the first time that scares me a little.
Take, for example, today -- I was reading a Stephen King novel for the first time, when I reached a break in the story. I decided I'd take a break, put the bookmark in the book, and shut it. The aftermath was immediate, but swift; for 10-20 seconds (if even that much) I wasn't even in my own mind anymore. I couldn't tell you what I truly mean by that even if I wanted to. The words would've come and gone before I'd even hit the key on the keyboard. It doesn't just happen with novels, either; it could be a paragraph from a history book, or a story in the literature book. They always have the same effect.
For that short space of time, there are three parts to my mind. One part is the mechanical: keep walking, don't have your mouth hanging open like that, they'll think something's wrong, unglaze your eyes, breathe. Things essential to blend into society, to act normally, the things you sometimes need to think about. It tries to bring you into the present. Another part is the writer's side of my brain; frantically stringing words, sentences, paragraphs, with raw emotion so strong you're almost brought to a stand-still with the mechanical part. Characters scream and burn, lovers love and die... the sort of thing that most serious writers subconsciously think about, then when it's brought to the surface you're mildly surprised.
The final part is the anomaly; I've absolutely no idea what it does. I know it's there; it's the reason the mechanical and the writing parts are trying so hard to do what they do. It blocks me from having any coherent thoughts at all about what's going on; the mechanical and writing sides end up meshing and become entangled, forcing two lines of thought at the same time that may continue onward for up to 10 minutes after the originally effect. . . as aftershocks. The third train of thought is there, I know it is, but I can't make out what it's trying to say. There's probably a word for it, but I certainly have no idea. It's like an old friend is standing with open arms on the other side of the room but you can't reach him because there's an almost opaque wall between you.
The problem is, when I've got enough of myself together that I can try to think about it, it slips away. Either I can't seem to focus on what's going on because the mechanical and writing sides are agruing too much, or just because it won't stay put long enough for me to grab it. It's like snapping your fingers; the sound is gone before you can truly grasp what it sounded like. You can snap your fingers again, or think back on it, but it's not the same.
It only happens that once, and only when un-submerging myself from a book, or anything that requires a lot of focus, really. Just the first time. It's uncomfortable feeling, but not, it's a warm feeling, but not. I don't know what to make of it, and I probably won't for several years to come, but still. It's almost like I've got two people living in my head -- me, and this unidentable presense that likes to confuse me.
Aaaaaahh... my brain's beginning to hurt. So, let's discuss -- have you ever felt this way? Are there technical terms for it?
(*cough* psycho *cough*)
