Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve thought of the characters in book as living, breathing actors who have their own lives. Once I close the book, they talk amongst themselves or they go on about their daily lives — lives that have nothing to do with the book’s storyline.
This must be very inconvenient for the characters because I read at odd moments of free time. I might just have a moment to read and I only get through the next paragraph. I might have hours and will get through the next 12 chapters. I might not be able to sleep and I grab for the Kindle to read until I doze off.
My current read is good, but I’ve had many moments where I only get through a couple of pages. So here they are, the actors, in the middle of some trauma and drama, when BAM! — I close the Kindle and go take care of some important piece of business for the cats. I open my Kindle to read and ZAP! — the knitting project I’m working on while reading has gone pear-shaped and I have to give it my full concentration.
I can just imagine the poor characters/actors …
“Damn! Can she just let us get through this scene? Mike and I are yelling and beating the crap out of each other here.”
“Count yourselves lucky. Last week she closed the cover in the middle of our sex scene and it was hours before she got back to us. We had to pick up mid-thrust!”
“Yeah! I was just giving the kids their breakfast, when suddenly I had to be all hot and heavy with Liam. I can’t even stand having a conversation with him. I wanted to scream, ‘Just let us get through this part, for godsake! Then I don’t have to be around him for the next 50 pages!’ ”
“As a reader, this woman is a nightmare. She’s constantly mentally proofreading. It throws my concentration off.”
One of these nights I expect to hear knocking coming from the pocket of my purse. The characters will be pounding on the Kindle cover, demanding … I don’t know … better wages, better working hours, or maybe that I just finish the friggin’ chapter.