For crying out loud…

I’m not much of a tear-shedder. And I mean that in the real-life context. Because when I’ve been sucked into someone’s life – whether fictional or real – in a movie, in a show, or through someone’s writing, I can definitely get sensitive and glassy-eyed.

But I have never cried while writing.

Until today — for crying out loud. Not because I thought what I had written was terrible, or even moving for that matter. But just like an actor puts himself into character, and cries and laughs at things that maybe would not affect him in his real life – perhaps a writer, does very much the same thing.

I felt like my character, for the first time. I felt the pain that I’ve been painting, creating, writing for her. All of a sudden the pit that I had just put into her stomach, was now in mine. And I became uncomfortable writing. And I kept going. Because I want people to come to know her as incredibly strong, although a bit delicate and wavering… but always, always persevering.

In actuality, there’s nothing of me, or my life in her, or in this book. But then again, it’s everything.

~ by clicheblonde on August 10, 2010.