So far, I’ve written eleven books (eight are published, two are scheduled for release in the next 18 months, and one languishes in my computer). I’ve learned that after typing “The End” on a story, I can expect a sad withdrawal period. You’ll know this feeling if you’ve ever been absorbed in a thick novel or binged on a TV series over several days. The characters and their situations leak into your real life even when you’re away from the page or screen. You find yourself thinking about them, relating to them. Then suddenly, it’s over. You’re a little lost. Disoriented. Unsure what to do with yourself.
If you understand this, you can imagine pouring your life into researching and writing a novel. You eagerly anticipate how great it will feel to finish the job, but once you do, you miss hanging out with your characters.
I recently finished drafting a book that will release in 2025, my most challenging so far because it’s based on actual events and its characters are real people from history. I thought this one might come easily, given that the story was already written. All I needed to do was choose which of the real-life people would be my Point of View character, crawl inside their head (even though they’re no longer alive), and tell the story from their perspective. Then, fill in the unknown gaps with fictional but possible events, inner dialogues, and conversations while still staying true to the historical facts and timeline.
Okay, maybe not so easy.
Not only did I grow just as fond of these characters as I did my fictional ones, but I felt humbled by their heroism and petrified of getting things wrong. Because these people lived and because the events of the story made international news, I can find photos and video footage of them. I felt my heart do a weird flip inside when, in old newsreels, I identified “my” Mary Cornish and the six boys she cared for while drifting along in a lifeboat for over a week in the North Atlantic in 1940. I can see what they looked like—not the gorgeous models we typically choose for a book cover or imagine in our heads. I can read about their losses, decisions, pain, and trauma—none of which lays itself out in a handy three-part plot with clear character arcs, a grand climax, and a neat, happily-ever-after ending.
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Canadian cartoonist Lynn Johnston (best known for her comic strip, “For Better or For Worse”) described it like this: “…it demonstrates how deeply you can immerse yourself in a fantasy world and let the real one fend for itself.”
Thankfully, real life refuses to “fend for itself” for long. Meals need preparing, grass needs mowing, friends and family need love and attention. Eventually, maybe sooner than I think, I’ll write my final book and real life will still go on.
The only lasting value in allowing ourselves to become lost in stories—whether we read, watch, or write them—is when those stories and their characters inspire us, teach us, and motivate us to be better people in real life. To rise above our circumstances when called upon. To do the right thing even though it’s often the hardest thing. To sacrifice for others.
Next time you’re caught up in a story, take a minute to ask yourself if this is the case. If not, you may want to reconsider the genre or the outlet to which you’re giving your precious time.
