Imagination is the well spring of the story. Without our imaginations the story would not have been written nor could our readers become so swept up within them. Unfortunately for creative types our imaginations are prone to running away with us.

Why this pontification? Because my imagination is driving me crazy. On the weekend our little family went to Supanova. I was particularly excited because a fantastic author was going to be there and I wanted to listen to his seminar. While I took Xander with me to the seminar, my husband waited in line to meet Wil Wheaton – we decided Xander would surely prefer movement and mummy to standing in line and had agreed when TJ was done he would drop by the seminar and grab Xander, hopefully before Xander became sick of the seminar. Upon navigating the crowded halls I arrived at the seminar room only to be told no prams were allowed in the seminar room so I had to leave it unattended outside or miss the seminar. My heart broke. While dodging cosplayers on my return to my husband and the line he was in I wondered why on earth that was a rule, so dropped by the reception of the exhibition centre to ask them. They told me the rule wasn’t theirs, but the attendant at the door had told me it was.

Disappointed I went online the next morning to the convention’s forums and asked ‘why?’. I wasn’t asking for recompensation, I just wanted to know why and whose rule it really was (I find calming down and moving on a lot easier when I understand the why of things). Then on Tuesday I had several emails begging for attention and was shocked to learn the author I had missed the seminar of was looking for me. Me? My head promptly exploded. I was a mix of embarrassment and excitement and my husband couldn’t stop laughing at my red face. The author wants to give me something as an apology, even though he is certainly not the one at fault.

So I contacted him back and now am waiting. It’s nerve wracking. Really it is. This is where my over-active imagination becomes an enemy, not a friend. My mind can’t help but entertain all possible scenarios. My imagination goes to both extremes. Maybe in the heat of the moment I said something that hurt the volunteer who was guarding the doors feelings (I wasn’t a monster, but I wasn’t precisely happy either) and he’ll shake his head at me with pushed together brows, clucking his tongue in disdain. Or on the other hand the positive fantasies are pure self-serving drivel which I’m not writing here because its too embarassing to even admit them aloud (let me confirm though – not sexual!). When you have a writer’s imagination you can’t stop your brain from thinking these things. Even though my mind is well aware that all that will happen is we’ll have a cordial conversation, he’ll give me whatever it is he plans to give me and then we’ll just go back to me reading his books and him writing them my imagination won’t stop sending out all manner of scenarios.

So I’m sitting here at my computer waiting for the reply that will finally let my imagination calm down.

So, am I the only one whose head comes up with dream after dream (or nightmare) while waiting for something? I know I’m not, but I want stories, so please share and give me something to do other than hit the refresh button a hojillion times.


*You may notice I never mentioned the author’s name. That is intentional. I didn’t write this post to be a name dropper. I just had to write down all the tight chested, close-throated, hot faced feelings to try and calm myself and temporarily shut up that aforementioned imagination that really is relentlessly making up scenario after scenario. Also, if you know who it is, refrain from commenting it, I do not want to be a name dropper even inadvertantly.