I’m reading an exciting historical novel at the moment, lots of action, twists, adventure, love, murder, international intrigue, and I am unwillingly comparing it not only to my fiction but also to my life. I am a boring person. My fiction might be boring, too. So I’m writing this post to convince myself that what I just wrote is wrong.
It’s easier to convince myself that my stories are not boring. I know I am stronger at characterization than plot. I prefer it that way. What goes on in a character’s mind is what interests me the most. My characters might not do much out of the ordinary. They take nature walks, get delayed by a tree fallen across the road, fall in love with former professors. The excitement or intrigue of the story comes from who they are and how they change (or don’t change). Some of it comes from what they say to other people. But I believe even their dialogue is restrained by a good dose of normalcy. It’s what they think about that moves the story along.
So it is with me. Behind my horrible spoken communication skills and my cryptic facial expressions, my thoughts carry me along. I have entire conversations with people while I am making dinner, and I don’t say a word out loud. My thoughts carry me away, sometimes to bad places, and sometimes to good places. I am truly very exciting. You’ll just have to take my word for it.