Over the past few weeks, I’ve had some experiences that made me realize that reality is tough. Making it through everyday can sometimes be more difficult than making it through a fictional story where the world might end. It makes me a little jealous of my characters.
Sometimes I sit and think . . .
I wish I had Tabitha’s determination.
I wish I had Caleb’s loyalty.
I wish I had Jessa’s compassion.
I wish I had Vale’s valor.
I wish I had Ari’s gall.
I wish I had Kon’s sense of humor.
I wish I had Reid’s devotion.
I wish I had so many things that I don’t. At the end of the day, all I think is that my characters have so much more strength than I ever could. I think that sometimes when I’m writing I’m not even sure where their goodness comes from, but somehow it comes out. Somehow they find the strength within themselves, and I get a little jealous. It’s not always easy to do in reality.
I get jealous of their problems. An evil demon seems easier to deal with than a random grumpy mood that you can’t really trace back to anything in particular. At least if a character is grumpy, it’s strongly motivated. Or at least, we hope it is. Sometimes when I’m in a bad mood, I think, it would be nice to know why I’m feeling this way. But at the same time, in my upcoming release, Tabitha is training to be a Warrior and is constantly denied because of her gender. That woman has real problems. Me? Not so much.
What do you think? Is it easier to escape into a high stakes world than deal with the issues that plague us in reality?