Let it be known that I’ve fallen in love with your spirit.
Not you specifically. You could be the proverbial “no one knows you’re a dog on the internet.” (Not that you’re ugly or that you lick your privates, or beg for treats at inopportune times.)
No, it’s not you, per se, for how can anyone truly know who you *are* on the net?
But rather, it’s you — that adventurous soul who dares to strike out, to pick up and move when the mood or necessity strikes you. It’s you and your familiar predilections and inferences that seem like memories. It’s you, whose universe circulates thirty degrees in front (or behind) my own. It’s you whose scant mention of the trivialities of life have made me think, yeah, that’s exactly how I’d interpret that.
The online world condemns and empowers us to love from afar. There are those folks who you’ve met online, have read about, dreamt about, or envisioned meeting, sipping coffee together as the sun crawls over the snow topped mountain. They’ve expressed themselves in such a way that you feel their yearning, their doubts and their failures. We ache that we can’t be there to comfort them, console them. And we, at times, fantasize about such spirits entering our own lives, consoling and pampering our forlorn selves.
Let it be known this love letter goes out to you. If you’ve ever hoped that your sentiment has found its niche on some relic strew shelf, nestled next to mine, know that the sharing of such moments are not phantasms of fallacy. For who is to say that connections made through the ether of net cannot transcend into the ether of cosmic connection.
I entered into this whimsical meandering with a singular contact in mind. Yet, as I explored the concept, it occurred to me that we all, most likely, have fallen in love (or perhaps love’s veneer, infatuation) with those whom we’ve encountered here in the mind’s most fertile playground.
I thought to question it. Coat my daydreams with remorse or shame. But why? Our lives are so narrow these days; mere pockets of duty and obligation peppered with the scant spice of spontaneous serendipity. If I’ve loved you in my mind’s eye, who’s to deny me my jubilation?
Only me.
Embrace your dreams, for tomorrow you may be dead.
Anonymole - apocryphal agitators 
You are amazing.
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Geee whiz Anony, I had no idea…
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Don’t let it go to your head Georgie.
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LOL!
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“I think you can add internal conflict a bit. I mean not only the dialogues but what is in heroes heads.” My post is down, but not sure how to reconcile this comment from a respected blogger with what we’ve discussing re: “head hopping.” Any thoughts?
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In my first novel I tried to never enter the minds of characters — was some notion that I should only ever show — but it came across as distant, detached.
This may be what this person is talking about. However, I’ve never gotten that sense from your work.
Regardless, I’m consciously adding POV focused thoughts and reflections and impressions in my current WIP. I want there to be personal connection through privileged information with the reader.
It was my failing. I don’t see that in your’s.
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Well, I’ll attempt to accomplish this without head hopping.
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If you want to enter another’s head, you need to break into a new block with a spacer *** or ###. I use ~~~. This, I’m told, demarcates a possible POV switch.
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Will remember that. Thanks.
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In my second, I tried to add some shallow dives into characters thoughts. Prolly not deep enough however.
The first novel, someone commented, was like I was “reporting the story” not telling it. You can see how a reporter would never want to flavor the facts. But that was exactly the wrong approach in story telling.
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The last sentence tied it all together.
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If one is a 50+ white male then death ranks #1 in daily personal reflection. You might enjoy this bit I wrote, if you haven’t already read it. https://davecline.wordpress.com/2018/08/17/what-would-you-say-to-hemingway/ In the comments there’s a recent article I found on the subject.
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