I’d like to walk you through uncontrolled and dangerous territory. No need to fasten your seatbelts, or keep your arms and legs confined to a specific area before the tour comes to a complete halt. Just sit back, in the comfort of your own thoughts, and know that you are safe, secure and protected.
Directly in front of you is a cranium that contains a bizarre collection of, linear vs holistic, logical vs intuitive, and reality-based vs fantasy-oriented processes, that are overly ripe for picking. On the left, you will find the region that functions as a splitter, it’s logical, sees cause and effect, and responds to verbal instructions. On the right, is a lumper. It sees the big picture. This region prefers open-ended questions, is fluid and spontaneous, fancies illusive and uncertain information, and would rather have a hot poker shoved into its soft gray flesh than to follow any type of instruction.
Notice the lush vastness on the right, as opposed to the miniscule, desolate, terrain on the left. This harsh difference is most commonly found in the brain of a fiction writer. Of course, there are unique occasions, where small as it is, the left region will rise up in ambush-fashion, and arrange what the right region considers a brilliant idea into logical, and sequential order. Crap, reality intrudes.
Please proceed to the collection of ideas located in the right hemisphere. Notice how random they are, how they flit from one tack to another.
Let’s observe a few:
Never store nuclear waste in a shoe box. Even if you're not arrested, it will stink up your clothes.
When driving away negative energies, make them buckle up in the back seat while you chant, "I want to be judged for my unseen intentions." Your problems will soon disappear.
Never whack a family member in the head with a 5-iron. It will definitely throw your game off.
Why do they make magnifying mirrors? Aren’t we scary enough without exaggerating facial blemishes?
It’s best not to dwell in this region too long or operate heavy machinery for at least one hour after your visit. An overextended stay may produce unwanted side effects such as, rawness of throat, nausea, fever, giddiness, headache, severe stomach cramps and sharp pains in the neck.
Let’s move on to the left region, the master planner and scheduler.
Don’t let the coffin lid hit you in the face on the way down.
Okay, that’s enough out of the right side. Pay no attention, if you don’t encourage it, chances are, in seconds it will forget you were ever here.
As I said, the left side is responsible for logical, concrete processing. Let’s have a look at the approach it uses for writing:
No one knew that better. He had seen first-hand the unyielding power of the reaper’s will. It wasn’t the reaper who tugged at him now, however. It was the deadly toxin that was rapidly being absorbed into his digestive tract.
The cold wind flattened his pant legs against his shins. An icy ache rankled his teeth. He jerked the edges of his coat tightly around his middle. His heart battered a rabbit-quick rhythm against his chest. Pain ripped up through his abdomen and brought him to a standstill.
With panic stricken eyes, he looked around for help. It was ridiculous to think anyone would be on the street at this hour. Nausea overwhelmed him.
He pressed his hand over his mouth. He couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel anything. His fingers were numb. He retched twice and then compelled himself to keep moving, feeling only a great sense of revulsion and wrongness.
Trees loomed, posing black and claw-like as he passed beneath. Swaying in the gale, they seemed to mock him as he reached out to them for support. He thought he heard them rustling their leaves, whispering, “Poor tiny man. Foolish little man.”
Always keep your pockets free of any flavor pudding.
Uh-oh, the right side has become bored. It would be useless to continue once these types of intrusions begin. Please exit in an orderly fashion, and return soon, as ideas are updated regularly. Thank you, and we look forward to seeing you again. Oh, and don’t forget to tip your waiter on the way out.
Excerpt from, 'Initials For Murder', by Venita Louise, available at, The Authors Lounge.