Curious habits and echoes of childhood

I've been doing a fair bit of driving around of late, which is a necessary chore of the day job, but I don't like to waste time so I try to put the hours of travelling to some good use.

Whilst ensuring I concentrate on the road at all times, naturally (quick aside - that sounds like one of those awful disclaimers so beloved of the legal profession; we can no way be held to account for anything whatsoever we do in any circumstances arising from anything at all etc...) I also like to do some thinking as I drive.

I'll commonly be working through the plot of a piece of writing, or maybe a quirk or two of the characterisation, perhaps even mulling over a twist or turn for the narrative. But one of the most curious things I do - as I noticed yesterday - is that I like to have a chat with my passengers.

Which is odd, because I'm always alone.

This is what tends to happen. If I'm thinking about a story I'm covering, then I'll talk it through with Dan; how best to start the report, what we need to ask the interviewees, if there's anything creative we can do with the filming or structure.  If it's a crime we're covering, I like to speculate with Adam about who might have committed it and why, and perhaps how they're trying to cover it up and get away with it.

And when I'm thinking about a plot for one of the tvdetective books, I'll often ask the boys how they'd react in a given situation. 

Now, this may seem odd to you, as initially it did to me.  And I know that when I think there's something odd about myself, it's likely to be very strange indeed. But this is what I've come to believe.

I reckon it's only right that my characters should truly live for me. Because if they don't, how can I know them well enough to make them live on paper, for the readers?

Or is that just an oddball's justification for his insanity?

Anyhow!  As I was saying... and you may well think this even odder - Dan, and Adam, and all the other main characters in the tvdetective series have become like friends to me. Even when I'm not writing, they're still around, talking to me (and, as we've seen, I like to talk back), and often asking when I'm going to start writing about them again.

Well, I suppose everyone needs friends. And this little confessional all reminds me of what my late mother said, when I told her about me trying to become a writer, and then the publication of my first book.

"Well", she said, wisely, "I suppose I could have seen it coming.  From childhood, you always had a lot of imaginary friends..."