I’ve been asked to and even been tempted to write stories from the perspective of an animal in past. But I just can’t. (Disclaimer: I have a feeling I HAVE done it before, years ago–so many I can no longer remember–but I couldn’t tell you where that writing is.) The point is, I can’t do it anymore. Here’s why.
What if … This is what goes through my mind when I look at my dog and really contemplate what might be going through his head. What if he’s a past human, trapped in the body of a dog for the span of this lifetime? What if he really understands everything I’m doing and saying and he’s judging me?
I know this sounds paranoid, but it’s where my writer’s mind goes. My overactive imagination, if you will. So there it is. I’m afraid that if I start writing from his perspective, I’ll somehow disappear into a void of imagined conversation between the dog and the cat that will end up with me hiding in my room with the door closed, begging for forgiveness and mercy as they scratch and whine, trying to get in. Except of course it’s only because they’re hungry, my logical mind will tell myself.
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