If I took a survey of my friends and family about who they think I am, I'm fairly sure I'd get a few standard responses. I would list those likely responses, but you can guess what they are. Guessing those answers is probably more entertaining than me telling you anyway since I'm an average human living a life that makes me a regular sort of happy.
That life includes the part I live in my head, one of my favorite places to be, hanging out with the characters who live there. (I would say “people” but “characters” sounds a bit less insane.) And there are quite a few of those characters. They have fabulous adventures, interesting lives, and can do really cool stuff. (Some stuff that isn’t even humanly possible.)
Members of that cast go with me everywhere. In the shower, in my car, in bed while I'm trying to fall asleep at night. . . although they don’t show up at the grocery store. I wish they would. I might not abhor that chore as much if they were pushing their own carts right along beside me. (Hmm. I wonder what they'd have in their carts.)
Everyone does have this cast of people in their heads, right? Otherwise, what do you think about all day? I can't imagine living in there by myself. How boring that would be. How lonely. Regardless, I can’t stop them from sprouting up and moving in. They dwell in my mind and their population increases faster than I can write them down.
But I am working on that part. Shaking them lose and sending them out onto the page where they can have their own lives and my head doesn’t get over-populated.
So who am I? I am a gardener of characters and I’m working on my harvest of stories.
Probably not what my friends would say.