It's day one of the "DAISUKI." blog tour! Today I'm over at Morgan's tumblr doing a super short and sweet interview. Also, if you're on tumblr and would like to be Super Friends, you can still find me here!
'Til tomorrow for more touring goodness!
Showing posts with label Morgan Bauman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Morgan Bauman. Show all posts
Monday, October 1, 2012
Saturday, June 23, 2012
SAS: The Perils of Being an Author With Synesthesia, by Morgan Bauman
"Share A Saturday" is a weekly chance for you, yes YOU, to come on my blog and talk about whatever you want, so long as it's related to writing/books. For more information, such as if you'd like to "share a Saturday" with me, please see below!
Morgan Bauman is a YA fantasy author currently in the process of publishing her series "UNTOLD MEMORIES". You can check out her blog here!
The letter A is a brilliant, apple red. The number 4 is a green so vivid and fresh that grass dreams of it during long hot summers--summers that scorch grass the dry, brittle yellow of the song Hotel California. E is green, too; a frostier green, colder and deeper. My main character’s personality is a dulled, reddish brown that matches the R that begins her name.
Synesthesia is a relatively rare condition in which the sensory wires in the brain overlap and intermingle; one sense involuntarily sets off another sensation (in addition to the sensation it would have triggered on its own in a neurotypical brain). For some people, letters may have personalities; scents may evoke specific textures pressed against one’s hands; tastes may have shapes; the days of the week may each have a poignant flavor. This isn’t something imagined by the synesthete; if tested, the sensations will remain constant over years and decades.
For me, every musical note, letter, number, concept, voice, and character has a color. The color of a word on the page doesn’t always match the color of the word in the air. Just like the tightly packed dots of color in an old-time comic book, the words’ colors change as I string them into sentences and paragraphs, bleeding into each other, warping and fading. Commonly used words tend to fade, color-wise; as a child, I thought this was what people referred to when they said, “That’s my name; don’t wear it out.” If I pack too many vibrant words together, paragraphs begin to clash and look disjointed. My stories have to look good on paper as well as aloud, so I read them to myself as I go.
So far, it probably sounds like a boon, and it is; I wouldn’t trade my synesthesia for a million dollar book deal. But the title of this piece mentions peril. What perils could there be?
If I’m listening to a song with dark brown guitar and yellow-brown vocals--while writing about a character with a green personality interacting with one with a dull red personality--but this particular chapter calls for muted blue in the description, I sometimes stop ten or thirty times and just hold my head in my hands while trying to sort through everything. I get distracted. The words get jammed in my fingers, the tip of my tongue, impossible to dislodge.
Color flow--whether in a mix CD or a chapter--is extremely important to me. I intentionally use jarringly different colors in language for a specific effect; I name characters and their personality blossoms out of the colors of their name (or they get renamed).
Which leads me to the final peril of being an author with synesthesia: sometimes, you write something literal only to have it be taken as metaphor; other times, you realize that your hidden description--the colors coursing underneath the text--are invisible to all of your readers. The hidden, watery themes; the dry touch of the desert in your villains; the bursts of vivid color on the barren landscape of the page--invisible.
Even so, I like to include them. After all, what’s better than secrets hidden in plain sight?
----
If you'd like to participate in a Share a Saturday, feel free to contact me at my email, hildred @ gmail.com (no spaces) or through any of the other ways to get a hold of me through my Contact page.
Morgan Bauman is a YA fantasy author currently in the process of publishing her series "UNTOLD MEMORIES". You can check out her blog here!
The letter A is a brilliant, apple red. The number 4 is a green so vivid and fresh that grass dreams of it during long hot summers--summers that scorch grass the dry, brittle yellow of the song Hotel California. E is green, too; a frostier green, colder and deeper. My main character’s personality is a dulled, reddish brown that matches the R that begins her name.
Synesthesia is a relatively rare condition in which the sensory wires in the brain overlap and intermingle; one sense involuntarily sets off another sensation (in addition to the sensation it would have triggered on its own in a neurotypical brain). For some people, letters may have personalities; scents may evoke specific textures pressed against one’s hands; tastes may have shapes; the days of the week may each have a poignant flavor. This isn’t something imagined by the synesthete; if tested, the sensations will remain constant over years and decades.
For me, every musical note, letter, number, concept, voice, and character has a color. The color of a word on the page doesn’t always match the color of the word in the air. Just like the tightly packed dots of color in an old-time comic book, the words’ colors change as I string them into sentences and paragraphs, bleeding into each other, warping and fading. Commonly used words tend to fade, color-wise; as a child, I thought this was what people referred to when they said, “That’s my name; don’t wear it out.” If I pack too many vibrant words together, paragraphs begin to clash and look disjointed. My stories have to look good on paper as well as aloud, so I read them to myself as I go.
So far, it probably sounds like a boon, and it is; I wouldn’t trade my synesthesia for a million dollar book deal. But the title of this piece mentions peril. What perils could there be?
If I’m listening to a song with dark brown guitar and yellow-brown vocals--while writing about a character with a green personality interacting with one with a dull red personality--but this particular chapter calls for muted blue in the description, I sometimes stop ten or thirty times and just hold my head in my hands while trying to sort through everything. I get distracted. The words get jammed in my fingers, the tip of my tongue, impossible to dislodge.
Color flow--whether in a mix CD or a chapter--is extremely important to me. I intentionally use jarringly different colors in language for a specific effect; I name characters and their personality blossoms out of the colors of their name (or they get renamed).
Which leads me to the final peril of being an author with synesthesia: sometimes, you write something literal only to have it be taken as metaphor; other times, you realize that your hidden description--the colors coursing underneath the text--are invisible to all of your readers. The hidden, watery themes; the dry touch of the desert in your villains; the bursts of vivid color on the barren landscape of the page--invisible.
Even so, I like to include them. After all, what’s better than secrets hidden in plain sight?
----
If you'd like to participate in a Share a Saturday, feel free to contact me at my email, hildred @ gmail.com (no spaces) or through any of the other ways to get a hold of me through my Contact page.
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