Public Service Announcement: You May Know a Writer--Learn the Warning Signs!

Everyday, you see them.  They're driving in the car lane next to you.  They're in the checkout lane behind you.  They're sitting on the pew beside you at church.  They might be your co-workers.  They might be your family members.  They might even be watching...your...children. 

Writers are among us.  They're walking the streets, appearing to be perfectly normal human beings.  All the while, inside their normal-looking heads, insanity lurks.  At any moment, without warning, the writer's focus and passion can change from everyday reality to most bizarre fantasy.

What can the average non-writer citizen do? 

In ye olden days, writers were probably burned at the stake along with presumed witches and tone-deaf minstrels.  Since burning people, even writers, is now frowned upon, there is not much the average non-writer citizen CAN do.  Writers are, and will continue to be, among us.  However, there is hope.  There are ways that you, as an average non-writer, can protect yourself and your family.  Someone you know could be a writer--learn the warning signs!

1) Suspicious Notebooks.  There are many reasons people have for carrying notebooks.  Students carry notebooks.  Teachers carry notebooks.  Notebook salespeople would carry notebooks, but I'm not so sure that's a valid profession.  Writers also carry notebooks sometimes.  If you see a non-teacher/non-student/non-notebook salesperson carrying a notebook on a fairly regular basis, you should not automatically assume that this individual is, in fact, a writer, but pay attention. 

2) Vacant Expressions.  Writers are strange creatures that live in at least two different realms.  One of these realms is usually reality, and yet the writer's connection to reality is sometimes so loose that it can hardly be called a connection at all.  The other connections are to the writer's fantasy worlds.  Often, the writer's fantasy worlds might resemble reality, and other times, the writer's fantasy worlds might resemble a purple planet where unicorns make pie from magical wishing berries.  Whatever the fantasy worlds are like, the writer can visit these worlds at any time.  This means that while a writer is at work (almost all writers have to support themselves by working other jobs--otherwise the writer is known as a successful author, who is even more dangerous) or driving down the road, he or she might be somewhere else entirely.  Vacant expressions alone are not conclusive warning signs, as many people have vacant expressions, but be wary.

3) Maniacal Laughter for No Apparent Reason.  A person who pairs vacant expressions with maniacal laughter for no apparent reason is probably a) mentally unstable, b) a writer, or c) both.

4) Intense Mood Swings. A writer's emotional state can drift from absolute elation (when the writing is going well) to the depths of despair (when the writing is going badly...or not at all) in the span of about 0.021 seconds.  A writer might also feel the need to express his or her elation or depression by extensively ranting about his or her fantasy world to whoever happens to be in hearing range.  When this happens, invest in a good pair of invisible earplugs and learn to fall asleep with your eyes open, because these rants are known to last for hours and drive non-writers to the point of madness.

5) Talking to Oneself. Writers often talk to themselves--because they're trying to work out dialogue, because they actually believe they're living with unicorns who make pie, or because they've just completely gone coo-coo.

6) Delusions of Godhood. Writers are used to controlling all the things that happen in their stories.  Within the confines of their fantasy worlds, they determine who lives and who dies, who falls in love and who falls down a well.  When a writer's delusions of godhood cross over into reality, the only safe thing a non-writer can do is hide until the delusions pass--IF they pass.

7) Imaginary Friends. Writers often start relating so well to their fictional characters that they actually start believing they're alive.  If you know anyone who has imaginary friends, like, say, five Dragons that live in his/her room--then it's probably safe to assume this person is a writer.

You may have noticed that writers exhibit many of the same signs as people who are criminally insane.  This is not a coincidence, since many writers commit heinous atrocities against humanity within the confines of their suspicious notebooks.  If anyone you know displays any or all of the warning signs above, use extreme caution. 

If you encounter a writer in your day to day life, it is best to nod and smile and agree with everything the writer says (no matter how ridiculous and far-fetched it may seem), then excuse yourself as soon as humanly possible.  Do not, I repeat, DO NOT attempt to encourage them or engage in their fantasy world, or they will attempt to draw you into it.  The next thing you know, you'll be attending a magical wishing berry pie party and dressing up as a unicorn.

Run away.

SSA Ep. # 25: Would I Have Been in Dumbledore's Army?

Let's pretend Harry Potter is real.

Some people who are reading this might actually be gasping at their computer screens, shouting, "What do you mean PRETEND Harry Potter is real?  OF COURSE Harry Potter is real.  I'm pretty sure the owl who was trying to deliver my Hogwarts letter got eaten by a Kneazle, thus ending my magical education before it even started!!!" 

Ok, so for the sake of sane people, let's pretend that we're JUST pretending Harry Potter is real.  While we're at it, let's pretend that we're pretending Hogwarts is real, too.  Now let's pretend that I got my Hogwarts letter at the age of eleven and was accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  We don't have to pretend to pretend that part, because I can assure you, it did NOT happen. 

BUT if it did happen, I would have been Harry Potter's classmate.  I would have been in the same year as him, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy...you get the idea.  How do I figure that?  According to the death date on Harry's parents' gravestone, they were killed on Oct. 31, 1981.  Harry was a year old when his parents died.  Therefore, Harry Potter was born in 1980.  I was also born in 1980.  So I am the same age as Harry Potter.  (Did you know Harry Potter was 30 years old...almost 31?  The book version is.  Now you know...not that it matters...because MOST of us believe he's not real...).

So let's assume I got my Hogwarts letter and arrived at Hogwarts at the ripe old age of eleven.  I honestly don't remember much about being eleven.  I could barely tie my own shoes, so I'd imagine being on my own in ANY kind of boarding school would be an adventure...so the whole magical thing just takes it to a whole other level.  I'm pretty sure I would have been raised by Muggle parents, pretty much because I WAS raised by Muggle parents.  Well, my mom might be secretly magical...she's kind of awesome like that....

And speaking of my mom, I'm pretty sure a mama's girl like me would have a VERY difficult time adjusting to being away from home.  I would NOT have been placed in Gryffindor.  No, no.  I wouldn't be nearly brave enough.  The Sorting Hat would have taken one look at my cowardly brain and put me in HUFFLEPUFF! 

Back to reality for a moment.  Harry Potter didn't exist until I was almost an adult.  I didn't read any of the books until I was twenty-one, and by that time the fourth book was already out.  In 2001, most good Christian parents were telling their kids to stay away from Harry Potter, saying it was all about witchcraft and evil.  That encouraged me to want to read them (I'm always looking to read things that other Christians call evil--I want to make my own judgments), but I hadn't made the effort yet.  My good Christian parents?  They read the books and told me I HAD to read them.  They put the books into my hands and left me for a weekend to go visit my sister.

I mentally devoured those first four books within the span of three days.  From that time on, I was a Potterhead.  There was no going back.  I imagine that if I had gotten my hands on those books as a I teenager, I would have had wild fantasies about living at Hogwarts.  Shoot, I had wild fantasies about living at Hogwarts even in my 20s...but by that time I think I'd mellowed a little.  See, when I was a teenager, I latched on to whatever fantasy I could.  I did this because my reality pretty much sucked. 

A lot of that was my fault.  I realize that now.  And if anyone from my high school years ever reads this, please accept my apologies for being an arrogant brat.  People didn't like me, but I didn't exactly give them reason to like me.  I thought I was better than everyone, and I'm sure that attitude came out in my actions.

So yeah, I was unpopular.  I was a social misfit.  I still am, but it seems like I fit in better now.  I guess everyone else is a social misfit, too.  My attitude is a lot better now, at any rate.  But my teenage years were so uncomfortable that I sought escape.  I'm a little embarrassed to admit that my favorite fantastical escape was Star Trek.  It was bad....

But I can't help but think that I would have fantasized about Hogwarts if the books had been available when I was fourteen.  I would have imagined myself learning magical spells and going on wild adventures, facing Dementors and Death Eaters, and maybe even fighting Voldemort, himself.  The thing of it is, now that I'm older and wiser, I realize that things would not have gone like that at all.

I would have been just as unpopular at Hogwarts as I was in the real world.  I probably wouldn't have been friends with Ron or Harry.  I mean, getting to hang out with Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom would have been a step up for me.  I might have gotten along, to some degree, with Hermione. 

I even dressed up as Hermione Granger (complete with Crookshanks) for Halloween one year.

I always did well in class, so maybe Hermione would have been nice to me.  But I doubt we would have hung out socially...except for maybe the occasional study group. 

Oh wait...I always preferred to study alone.  I probably would have only left my common room for class and meal times.

And speaking of meal times, they would have been EXTREMELY detrimental to my health and social status.  I was a chunky child and a chunky teenager.  Well, the Great Hall is kind of like a magical All-You-Can-Eat buffet three times a day...and I'm pretty sure pumpkin juice wasn't that healthy.  I'm not picturing just plain old juice from a healthy pumpkin--I'm picturing liquid pumpkin pie complete with a large dollop of cool whip.  I mean, theoretically speaking, the magical food might have had some kind of calorie reducing enchantment...but I doubt it.  I would have gained even more weight at a school like Hogwarts...which would make me less popular.

And I doubt I would have mad magical skills.  Considering the fact that I was fifteen before I learned how to ride a bike and that it took me THREE tries before I got my driver's license, I'm pretty sure that broom riding would NOT be my very special talent.  And even though I understand Quidditch better than MOST sports, I probably would have not understood it enough to enjoy it.  So while the house teams were playing Quidditch and all the other students were down cheering, I'd have probably snuck up to my common room to fantasize about living in a non-magical world or something.

I also would probably suck at Potions class because, well, I can't cook.  And Defense Against the Dark Arts?  No way.  I'm pretty sure my Patronus would be a grub worm or something lame.  That wouldn't scare off any Dementors.  But...then I'd have more excuses to eat chocolate...which again...bad for my waistline and popularity.

The only place where I might have succeeded magically would have been Divinations class...but that's mainly because I like tea.

I have a feeling I'd be a Squib.

And when Voldemort came back, I'd probably just go home and hide with my non-magical parents while Harry Potter and his friends saved the day.  I wouldn't have followed spiders into the Forbidden Forest.  I wouldn't have fought for the freedom of house elves.  I wouldn't have tried to enter the Triwizard Tournament.  I wouldn't have trained in Dumbledore's Army.  I would have sat in my room wishing that my life were different...because the gillyweed is always greener on the other side of the Black Lake.

I would be a Hufflepuff, and that fact used to depress me a lot.  That's because I didn't understand how awesome Hufflepuffs are.  If I had been in Hogwarts as a teenager, I wouldn't have understood how awesome Hufflepuffs are, either.  I didn't realize Hufflepuffs were awesome until fairly recently.

I used to see Hufflepuffs as the left-overs.  If you weren't evil enough to be in Slytherin, or smart enough to be in Ravenclaw, or brave enough to be in the coveted Gryffindor, then the Sorting Hat would just throw you into Hufflepuff: The Leftover House.

But that's not a true representation of a Hufflepuff.  Cedric Diggory (before Voldemort turned him into a sparkly vampire) was in Hufflepuff.  What was so awesome about Cedric Diggory?  What's so awesome about most Hufflepuffs?  They're honest.  They're fair.  They're compassionate.  They're encouraging.  They work hard, and they care about others.  Eventually, and probably years after I graduated fair Hogwarts, I would have realized that being a Hufflepuff is a great honor.  That's when I would have known the truth that my life was just as it should be...that there was no fantasy greater than the reality of my magical life!

...but we're just pretending, remember?