All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
Maybe me more than most. I method-write. The driving force is always ‘what would this character feel, what would they do, would they make an informed decision, an emotional one?’ I spend so much time inside the heads of my characters that I sometimes have difficulty separating my fiction from my reality. Not in a clearly losing it way, but in doing double takes realizing that a certain situation or even emotion exists only in my head.
In many ways they become parts I play, largely to put down on paper for the purposes of creating a story, but there have been other characters created in amusement, in a desire to troll, in sheer boredom, or in all of the above. Lost in it all, is the real me. Am I the serious statistician and hockey writer, the anonymous comments section troll, the carefree lover of chaos, the driven writer?
All of the above I suppose.
Human beings like to categorize things, and they don’t like things that are ambiguous or go against their dichotomous view. It’s why gays and straights sometimes have trouble with bisexuals, why men and women don’t understand transgender individuals, why switches are often poorly regarded in the BDSM community.
With our time split into specific activities, into work and home and others, it can be difficult to see people for the multifaceted individuals they are.