4:00 am on a Saturday morning. I woke about 2:00 am for who knows what reason. My brain decided I had enjoyed enough sleep. I disagreed. We argued. I read a little. I tried to sleep. We argued some more. The brain won.
The problem with waking so early is that once I'm aware and thinking, I cannot stop.
This morning I awakened to Meaghan Reyer's voice in my head. Meaghan, the level-headed heroine in the next Kyndall book who just wants the world to leave her alone while she immerses herself into the creative worlds she creates. The world won't leave her alone, though, which means I will not be left alone until together we trudge through the muck she's found herself in and weed out the culprit.
It's all murky right now, but we'll kick butt in the end. We always do.
Thankfully, we both have Donovan Kyndall. Meaghan woke me up, I think, because she's a little annoyed with Donovan. Rightly so at the moment. He's such a guy's guy, and we love him for it, but sometimes . . . Or maybe it's my exhaustion making her a bit snarky and they just have to deal with it.
Characters are complicated. So can be writers.
There are three people—or groups—that make these unexpected early mornings worth it. Myself (yep, I proudly write for myself), the characters, and the readers. Collectively, every moment of writing, thinking about writing, and dreaming about writing, is for all of us.
I should put readers first, really, but then I wouldn't be able to write. I've had readers tell me I should write Christian fiction, write steamier books, write cleaner books, don't use ANY swear words, use more, how about this genre, or that . . . it goes on.
I'm not a people person, but I consider readers in a category of people outside of the masses, which allows me to adore them in a way I don't adore people in general. Readers are kindred spirits. Even if they don't always love my books, we all LOVE books. Many of us are obsessed. Reading is . . . life. Okay, that's dramatic, but true, deep-down-in-the-gut readers will know what I mean.
It's the kindred spirit thing. And a gut thing.
Speaking of guts (in an instinctual way, not a literal gut), that was part of my first thought when I drifted out of the arms of Morpheus. Guts, or instinct. It's what Meaghan was thinking, so naturally I was on board for the ride.
Readers won't get it now, but they will later, when all the words come together and they join us on our journey through the carefully-woven events that make up the string of moments in the life of two characters.
This post was meant to bring me fully out of slumber so that I can get to work, earlier than expected, but not unwelcome now that the creative juices are flowing (sometimes a girl just wants to use a cliche).
I see a long, morning walk in my near future. The sun will rise in a little more than two hours, and until then, Donovan and I will figure out what has Meaghan grumbling in the wee hours.
Happy weekend to you all.
This looks like a good plan for part of the afternoon. We're expecting rain. I hope it comes.