I once spent a month helping out with my little cousin while
my aunt and uncle were moving into their new house. He was about a year and a
half at the time and a total dollface. And he had this habit that I’ve noticed
is fairly common with kids.
He paid absolutely no attention to the direction in which he
was running.
He loved being chased. There was nothing quite as thrilling
as knowing that he was trying to outrun someone. He would laugh hysterically as
he took off as fast as those little legs would carry him.
But he would always watch the person behind him rather that
what was coming up in front.
It was mildly terrifying to be witness to.
I was always sure he was going to body slam into some piece
of furniture or wall. I quickly found that yelling that something was in front
of him didn’t stop him from running into it. No, the only way that I could get
him to stop running was if I stopped running. He wouldn’t always pause for
long, but he’d be curious enough to stop and glance around to see the cause for
my lack of motion. And then he’d generally notice the chair he was about to
collide with and take off on a new path.
Interestingly enough, this memory has become very helpful in
my writing process. My characters do the same wild running
and, not surprisingly, they too get very caught up in what’s chasing them and
don’t pay nearly as much attention as they should to what they’re running into.
Only I’m not as nice to them as I was my cousin. I don’t
stop so they have a second to regroup. I just let them smash into whatever’s in
their path.
And that’s when things get interesting.
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