My best characters ever, my most original stories and clever plots, my unique world re-imaginings and crazy schemes, all come from my dreams. Does it lessen my quality as a writer? Can’t I find something interesting to say on my own? Do I need to dream a life that isn’t mine to write about it?
My dreams happen in my head through my subconscious flux – so I’m not less of a writer, more of an opportunist storyteller. How could I come up, on my own, with Calif the Scavenger’s semi-scary, semi-sexy smile? And how about Evoly, a girl conflicted between being Human and Goyle on her first day in Syrana, this Land in Abyss? The journalists’ implication in Rebel’s controlled society; waking up naked and amnesiac in a bathroom in Foresees; We Left at Night’s terror of leaving home and everything else behind.
Instead of letting my dreams go into oblivion and forgetting about those really good ideas, I grab onto them, shape them into stories, and make the best of my overworked imagination.
So go on, dream about nightmares.