Being a writer is sometimes the biggest burden in the world. When all I want to do is focus on life, I have my characters in my head. Playing the scene over and over till I write it out, but just when I think I'm in the clear, they have another scene worked out. Just to torture me. Or at least sometimes that's what I think. I think they do it on purpose...
I know how nuts I seem. Here I am referring to characters like real people but to be honest, in so many ways - over the last ten years - these characters have become real. Since the moment I dreamt them up, they've been there, twenty-four seven and this my lasting attempt to burden them on other people. Ha!
If it's possible. I know every writer says their characters are awesome, but mine... their almost too real, to in your face. If you take a read you may understand what I mean. And how can anyone not want to read James, or envision him... salty goodness of a man... swoon. not just a man. a real man.
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