I sent my novel to family and friends about a month ago (scroll down if you want to read my agonizingly stupid post about it), and anxiously awaited their feedback and opinions.
My mom and dad think it's gross. Score.
My brother liked it.
One of my mom's friends liked it but thought the ending was too rushed.
And so on.
I was talking to someone (who shall remain anonymous to protect his or her identity, unless someone bribes me with cake), and I brought up my novel (because that's what writers do, bring up their writing), and to my immense and pants-wetting surprise, this someone began to talk about my characters (Connor in particular) like they were actual people.
And the only thought I could manage to think, over and over again, was, "Sweet Jesus. My imaginary friends are real."
I always knew those voices in my head were really other people.
ReplyDelete