Okay, I just went fangirl and posted on another author’s fb page and asked about the characters in her book. I hold myself accountable that when people do that to me, I must answer, because I know how it feels to wonder.
On a side note, I’m wandering around confused in a fit of transparency because I forgot there was life on planet Earth as I lost myself this morning devouring page after page of a novel that I happened to find bargain priced at Barnes and Noble.
For whatever reason, the children stayed out of my hair as I found the tears staining my cheeks in empathy for fictional people who I happened to find myself relating to.
I finished the book longing for a continuum, or an epilogue, something to give me a taste of the character’s future. Just a hint of relevance would have been fine, but apparently the author found that to be unnecessary, which is why I ended up fb stalking her- to my humiliation.
Which in turn, caused me to realize the importance of answering my readers when they ask me a hundred times of what happens with the hot cop, Evan Parker, or his beau Norma Nudle. It also makes it less weird when my readers tell me they want to name their children after one of my characters (Emerson).
I have learned that regardless of the strangeness of it all, I will as kindly as possible answer all questions to the fullest extent possible, because I am now there and am on a need to know basis.
This is the reason I love books. My life feels very incomplete without them- however, it can also feel incomplete if I don’t have the resolve I need.