There are times when I put down a book and even if the story has ended happily, I feel bittersweet. You live with the characters in a story for a week, a month, a series. They love and you love. They cry and you cry. It’s sometimes such an intimate thing, that when it’s over, it can be like saying goodbye to a friend that never knew you.
I started a fiction writing website years ago with a great bunch of friends. Together we created a world from scratch, dreamed up the cultures, the settings, and the characters that inhabited it. Now we’ve all moved on to other things.
Yesterday I wrote the last post and tied up the loose ends of a story that’s been waiting patiently for a conclusion for more than a year. As I read backwards to re-orient myself, the characters began to take on that telltale spark of life. Writing the last post was easy, I knew how everyone would talk and act. It was like meeting old friends again.
And I’m a little sad.
Even if we create them… our characters can take on lives of their own sometimes. I like to imagine they keep on living, and loving, and adventuring even when I am no longer writing them.
Maybe I’m just feeling nostalgic, or maybe I’m just odd? 🙂
Oh yes, I did kill off a character or two in the process. I guess I’m just a little bit evil too.