Those Enchanting, Demanding People in My Head | Sherrie Lord

Those Enchanting, Demanding People in My Head

Aug / 07 / 2009
It’s like that house I created for them is across town, and they would answer the door if I knocked.
❧

Not A Poser

It’s like love when you’re just falling into it, writing a romance novel is.

I was analyzing it last night — or rather, at a ridiculous hour this morning — when I was lying in bed, should have been eager to sleep, but longed to return to the computer so I could be with my friends. They are all I can think about. I don’t want to go anywhere or do anything; I just want to write.

It always gets to this point, and it’s this point I dread each time I start a new novel. Worse than an obsession, it’s like possession. They own me. I suppose because they don’t exist without me. But as well, I fall so deeply in love with them, that I can’t bear to be apart from them.

I dread it because I don’t want to go away inside myself. I don’t really live my life anymore. I go out to dinner with friends, but my characters go with me. I talk with husband Harry, but they interrupt and lead me away to converse, plan, and plot with them. I’m never fully in my real life’s Here and Now.

I force myself to take part in reality, but I’m only bartering, telling myself that as soon as I fold these clothes, I can go back to the computer. I’ve become my own parent to my own child: clean your room, then you can go play.

I suppose it has to be this way, that my fictional characters become so real that it’s like that house I created for them is across town, and they would answer the door if I knocked. Of course, they’d be delighted to see me. They know me as well as I know them. Every hour that I’m awake and for all the months I’m writing their story, we laugh and cry together, we play together. I write romance; we’re in love.

Hugs, Sherrie ;-}

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