Imaginary Friends Revisited

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Paul Whybrow

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Jun 20, 2015
Cornwall, UK
I previously postedabout imaginary friends, but last night, I had one of those horrible moments of clarity, where objectivity and subjectivity collided. I was editing my WIP, and inadvertently passed the mouse over the system tray of my Linux operating system, which has a feature that shows the desktop—my manuscript disappeared to reveal the dark shot of the universe I'd chosen as wallpaper that morning—making a mirror that revealed my reflection. It was like looking at my imaginary friend, the weirdo writer who labours long and hard to write crime novels. I looked at him for a moment, before popping back into my own mind, assailed with thoughts, such as 'Why are you doing this?', Where are you going with the plot? and 'Will anyone ever read it?'

I was, for a moment, reminded of an incident from 59 years ago, an early act of creation that I thought looked great, but which got me into trouble. As a young child, I was on my tod for three years, until my twin sisters were born. They were lovable, but a united faction as only twins can be, so, maybe to compensate, I invented an imaginary friend called Peter, who only I could see. Handily, he got the blame for any naughty things that I did, the worst being picking the petals off 100 tulips my mother had planted in the front garden flowerbeds, and arranging them in colourful geometric patterns on the path!

I did so, to impress my sweet five-year-old friend Helen, whose mum, our next-door-neighbour, was babysitting me—thus, heralding many acts of tomfoolery to win the hearts of women. My mother was less than impressed, when she came home, to find an army of green stalks pointing at the sky, the leaves flopped earthwards, while I tried to reattach the petals. But, it wasn't my fault—Peter did it!

Being a writer means weaving deceit into a pattern that a reader can use to clothe their imaginations. AsIsaac Bashevis Singer said:

When I was a little boy they called me a liar, but now that I am grown up, they call me a writer.

Adults carry around good and bad angels, who sit on their shoulders offering conflicting advice. Writers are constantly in contact with a lunatic asylum of fictional characters, who soon take over their waking and sleeping thoughts.

Ideally, when reading a story, we forge a friendly relationship with our favourite characters. For children, in particular, a fictional friend can be a comfort and a source of inspiration. As a ten-year-old, I was emboldened by Tarzan of the Ape's courage and determination—rumours that I still wear a leopard skin loincloth are largely untrue.:rolleyes:

Tarzan's creator, Edgar Rice Burroughs, made an interesting comment on existence and the imagination:

They say that none of us exists, except in the imagination of his fellows, other than as an intangible, invisible mentality.

Strangely, Burroughs' creation Tarzan lent his name to a California settlement that the author encouraged to grow, and which is now incorporated into Los Angeles. Tarzana is one of the few places named after a fictional character.

It's been found, that children who have imaginary friends are more creative:

Kids with Imaginary Friends Are More Creative

Such creativity may spur a rich artistic career, though if the stimulus mutates into uncontrollable hallucinations a diagnosis of schizophrenia will result. Author E.L. Doctorow reckoned that 'Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia', but there are limits to what society will tolerate.

Among writers, Zelda Fitzgerald, Richard Brautigan, Robert M. Pirsig, Philip K. Dick and Jack Kerouac were diagnosed with schizophrenia. Artistic types tend to suffer with mental illness more than the general population, though the effects can be beneficial for their creativity. Bipolarism, anxiety and depression are rife, but schizophrenia stalks authors in particular.

It's a slippery tightrope that we walk.

Did you have an imaginary friend, as a child or teenager?

Do you share your life with someone now? Creative You and Normal You?

Do your children share their lives with an invisible ally?

quote-writing-is-a-job-a-talent-but-it-s-also-the-place-to-go-in-your-head-it-is-the-imaginary-ann-patchett-35-19-88.jpg
 
Love that :) Imaginary friend as a little girl...not as such, but I did tell ghost stories that frightened other children. Not because I liked frightening them, I was mostly very gentle unless very angry, never a difficult child, but something was frightening me. One got me sent to the headmaster who sat me ever so kindly on his lap and asked if anything was worrying me? He rang my mother who said I had been eating apples at bed time and had nightmares. I told a story to two little boys my own age, visiting for tea. The thing was coming down the stairs right now, I told them. One ran straight through a glass door and had to go to ER. One night I saw the leopard moving, a Rousseau print on our bedroom wall, and pretty soon my sisters saw it too and we were all screaming.

And yet, for all that, I only actually 'saw' a truly nasty thing once. A thing one might call a goblin and I blamed codeine. Whatever angels are, I don't care for the language round them, I've seen one. No wings, but angelic, definitely. Human shaped, human sized, no detail, but outlined in green sparkles. A thing, a manifestation of being some call Raphael. Nasty or nice, they're from somewhere inside of us, where the individual of now touches the ancestral root. Everyone has got one, for sure, whatever it is, whether they get to see it with their waking eyes or not, no codeine required, or any other mind altering substance. But maybe arising from a deep need to connect with the ancient self, in coping with some problem or other.

These are true things, not even true lies, one would only tell, being quite certain of one's earthiest stability, having decided one no longer cares at all what anyone else chooses to make of it.
 
I don't always understand your questions.

Did you have an imaginary friend, as a child or teenager?

No. But I did wonder if we were real or if we were really ants in the world of giants etc. etc.

Do you share your life with someone now? Creative You and Normal You?

Are you asking if I'm two people? Or, if the person who is creative is different from the normal one? Whatever the case, I'm pretty much like this all day, every day. I want to say, writers are different people. Except, assuming we're a different breed or whatever always sounds ridiculous. Or, worse, a club. A clique. Or, it implies something magical and supernatural happens when we write. Ick. As I said before, I often surprise myself but that isn't anything special. It's bullshitting -- not to be confused with outright lying. I think if your writing persona is separate from who you are then you might be confused. We make ourselves tiresome when we get precious about our writing.

Do your children share their lives with an invisible ally?

My son had epic adventures with his batman figures. He probably won't thank me for telling anyone this but he's not around to stop me. He would freeze his batman figure and then take it in the bath to defrost. There was a lot of talking, none of which he's ever shared with me. But ... a lot going on.
 
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Reality Check A Crazy Little Ditty

Fanfare! Two books coming out right away!

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