I spend a ridiculous amount of time creating fictional worlds.
You would think that means when I finally have a little downtime, I would want to step away from books entirely. Maybe watch television. Go outside. Participate in normal human activities.
Nope.
Give me another book.
There is something wonderfully strange about being both an author and a reader. I know exactly how much work is hiding behind those pages. I know someone probably rewrote that chapter twelve times, deleted a scene they loved, argued with a character who refused to cooperate, and stared at one sentence until words temporarily lost all meaning.
And I can still completely disappear into the story.
I love that.
Sometimes I Don’t Want Reality
There. I said it.
Real life has bills, laundry, jobs, dishes, appointments, responsibilities, and an alarming number of things that require passwords.
Books have dangerous worlds, impossible choices, damaged heroes, strong heroines, supernatural creatures, forbidden relationships, and people making decisions that would have me screaming at them if they existed in real life.
I know which one sounds more entertaining.
Reading gives us permission to leave everything else behind for a little while.
Not forever.
Just long enough to breathe somewhere else.
I Want a Book to Make Me Feel Something
I don’t need every book to destroy me emotionally.
But I do want to care.
Make me laugh.
Make me angry.
Give me a character I would defend with unreasonable enthusiasm.
Give me another one I want to throw directly into the sun.
Make me stay up later than I intended because one more chapter somehow turned into six.
Those are the books I remember.
I might forget individual plot points years later, but I’ll remember how a story made me feel. I’ll remember the characters I missed when the book ended and those fictional places that somehow started feeling familiar.
That’s the magic part.
Readers and Authors Make a Strange Little Deal
An author can create the world, but the reader is the one who brings it to life.
I can describe a room, a character, a battle, a kiss, or an entire supernatural realm. But the version that exists inside your head belongs to you.
Your Damon might look slightly different from the one in mine.
Your version of the Fourth Realm is probably not identical to what I see when I’m writing it.
I actually love that.
Thousands of people can read the exact same words and walk away carrying slightly different versions of the story.
Human brains are weird.
Occasionally they’re magnificent.
This Is Why I Still Love Being a Reader
Writing books hasn’t ruined reading for me.
If anything, it has made me appreciate it more.
Now I notice the tiny things.
A perfect line of dialogue.
A reveal that was quietly set up chapters earlier.
A character decision that hurts but makes complete sense.
That moment when separate threads suddenly snap together and you realize the author knew exactly where they were taking you.
Those moments make the writer part of my brain jealous.
The reader part is delighted.
It’s an interesting arrangement.
So Here’s My Reader Escape Plan
Find the book.
Clear the time.
Ignore the world for a little while.
Fall in love with fictional people who will inevitably cause emotional damage.
Promise myself I’ll stop at the end of the chapter.
Lie.
Repeat.
Because sometimes escaping into a story isn’t about running away from your life.
Sometimes it’s simply about letting your imagination live somewhere else for a while.
And whether I’m the person writing that world or the person disappearing into somebody else’s, I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving that feeling.