Me as a writer or a fictional character?

I sometimes wonder what my life would be like if I were a mechanic, fond of cars and can make and fix them myself or a construction worker or engineer who put all that knowledge and free time into building and renovating things instead of tinkering on paper. Would my life be different then? At least I would have gotten more merit out of it, but inwardly? Would I be a different person with less fuss in my head?

Um, and then? Maybe I would also encounter the same issues and fall into the same patterns. Sure, I would be less in my head, living less in fiction, more in real life, talking more with my loved ones. Instead of hiding away in fictional characters saying what I would actually like to say.

And would I then be more myself? Or is this just a part of who I am, my way of being myself? Just as everyone finds a way or a place to become themselves, finding peace for a while, and from there confront fears and insecurities again.

Fiction or not? As a writer you dive into your characters and wake up as who you are. When you step out of that zone, life bulges on and you may be able to cling to the stories and those thoughts for a while, but soon reality catches up. If you’re lucky and can distance yourself from it, you can use elements of that for your story and stay somewhere – in balance.

I would even venture to say that as a writer it just helps me to become more human, no, it’s not living in fiction but just being more real. The closer the writer stays to himself, the more he discovers and takes that little piece of regained self with him. He is not an actor stuck in his role, but rather one who develops and enriches his own role.

Maybe I’m like that construction worker who sometimes needs to put it all together and build something that will help him move forward, or like that car freak who needs this, to put all his time and energy into something that will give him some energy again, so that you can get on with it and finally you matter somewhere, even if only to yourself. Yes, maybe that’s writing for me, it feels necessary every time again and … real.