Booksie Writer Interviews: The Compilation

Chapter 15: Magical Kingdom with Crazygirl

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Comments: 3

" Alas, poor Yorick "

She held the dry, chalky fragile skull in her hands, lifting it up into the Sun. Light shining through it's empty eye sockets, it's chipped, half toothless jaw bone, it's flattened vampiric nose and asked of it:

Question 1: Who ( as in a writer, author, poet, "etc", no longer living ) would you like to have met, and what would you say or ask them ?

I know that this is kind of cliche, but the writer I would want to meet is definitely William Shakespeare. I haven't even read much of his works! But as I have been getting more into writing I have noticed his work more and more and the things I would ask him is why he would use such dreary storylines. Where he got the inspiration, cause I mean come on, who just happens to come up with the idea to kill both your main characters over a matter of petty father rivalry?

She took the skull back home and cleaned it up. Washing away all the dirty remnants of time weathered into its surface, she noticed a small red vein clinging to the inside, rubbing her finger across it, bringing it to life again.

Question 2: What is you favorite word?

Supercalifradilisticexpialidocious of course! It was the first thing that came to mind and that is definitely the answer! It is just so light and happy, it's a mouthful yet still fun to say, and of course, it shows my love of Disney.

The flesh started growing back. The veins spread out, like the limbs of tree, vacuum sealed to the roof of an atrium. Like peanut butter on the roof of a mouth.

She asked the skull, now coming to life,

Question 3 : Where is your favorite place in Disney World?

and the flip side, where/what was the scariest place you have ever experienced, been to?

Never been to Disney World, though I really, really want to! It's just too much money. Disneyland on the other hand, I go to every three years. My favorite place is in New Orleans Square overlooking the water and in front of Pirates of the Caribbean and the café. A band is always playing, you can always smell freshly cooked food, (the monte cristo sandwiches are the best ; ) ) characters are always walking by, not to mention it's above the crowds. Pirates is my favorite ride.
For the second question, I would have to say my mind. My mind is the scariest place I've ever been to, I haven't experienced, nor been to anything scarier. I think of brains and minds as two different things. Brains are where memories are stored, and where all facts are recalled. The mind is everything else. I suffer from a mental illness called Multiple personality disorder. One of my personalities is insane. I mean this literally. 2. (law) a defect of reason as a result of mental illness, such that a defendant does not know what he or she is doing or that it is wrong. She's insane. In a really, really, bad and scary way and she is melded into my mind. I've gone to a hospital. I've been in therapy. Extra security was even added into my home to keep me in, but nothing's been working. I'll just have to live with it I guess.

Almost fully covered in skin, thin wisps of hair growing back, the skull started to have a mind of its own. It never stopped talking, even when she was not around to ask it questions.

Soon the skull became a living head, resembling her future self, a body less chatter box that just seemed to expel fountains of information.

She took the skull and locked in the basement asking of it, before she left,

Question 4: When you decided to write , ( publish pieces ) for others to read, did you care how it would be received ?

Part of you did : what did you think ( hope) others would say?

Part of you didn't: what made you throw caution to the wind and share it anyway?

Well I started writing when I was about two years old. As soon as I learned what a book was I started writing them. At this point in life, as nothing but a child, all I wanted was to become famous. For the world to know my name and so I started writing stories and making them into little homemade paper books with cardboard covers. I shared them with friends and family and I wanted nothing more then to publish a real book. To this day I still have a bunch of those small books just sitting on a shelf. Finally, when I discovered the internet I rejoiced! I found out I could publish my writing for anyone to see! After all, I never did care about money.

She heard the skull calling to her. It was easy to resist at first, but the sound of her own voice couldn't be ignored.

She opened the basement door and brought the head into the living room , setting herself on the table and asked,

Question 5: Why is writing important to you? And what would you say to someone who wants to write, but doesn't feel confident enough to?

That's a difficult question to answer. Because I've been writing all my life, I dunno, it's just been a sort of instinct to do it I guess. But I suppose the reason I write is simply because I need to. I guess I've always thought my life is kind of boring, normal, average, I've need a way to spice it up, such as people do with reading, except this way I'm completely in control. This is mainly the reason I often base the main character after myself.
For someone who is just beginning to write, who doesn't feel confident about it, here's what I'd say. Breath. Just breath. Feel the air moving around you, listen to the slight sounds of distant traffic or rustling leaves, the sound of wind chimes or the crackling of the fire. Don't think. Just write.

She decided to move the head, her head, up into the attic, a much warmer place, with more light than that dark basement.

She would visit herself now and again, sometimes conflicting arguments would prevail as they often do, taking her head back into the basement, until it stopped talking, then bringing it back up into the living room for conversation until, things became clear again, returning herself back into the attic to wait peacefully.

But, it was never that she had found her own skull, growing it back into her own living head; it was that, her head saw the future of herself and talked to the past, before she traveled into the Magical Kingdom, where pirates still sail, where princesses can kiss a beast turning him to a human prince, where flowers come to life and fly around like whirly gigs, and where we can stay eternally young. Where love lasts forever.

Thank you Crazygirl. For all the many beautiful things that you are.

I thank your heart, I thank your soul and I thank your brains.

Unconditional respect.

~ Mr. J

“Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow
of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath
borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how
abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at
it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know
not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your
gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment,
that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one
now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen?”

- Mr. S

Submitted: September 11, 2017

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Comments

hullabaloo22

Another fantastic setting, Doc, and what perfect questions to put to CrazyGirl.
And CrazyGirl, how nice it is to get to know you a bit more. And you've got so many similarities to me in your attitude to writing! It's not about money, it's about expression, exploring, and finding the right words.

Mon, September 11th, 2017 9:22pm

Author
Reply

Thank you very much Hully ! Her disposition is amazing to me.

Mon, September 11th, 2017 2:50pm

CrazyA

Thanks Doc, for the truly wonderful experience!

Tue, September 12th, 2017 11:16pm

Author
Reply

Oh , Cg ! I had to rip the pages out of the book, to write this one.
I can't thank you enough for opening up and sharing yourself.
Thank you, so much more !

Tue, September 12th, 2017 4:41pm