In case I haven’t mentioned it before, I hate winter.
No. Seriously. I hate it. I hate the shivering as I climb out of my warm bed in the mornings and run across the cold hardwood floor to the bathroom. I hate the feeling of icy slush that gets inside my shoes whenever I go outside. I hate having to drive in snow and I hate having to walk in snow, and I especially hate having to move the snow that is in my driveway, whether by shovel or snowblower, which pretty much covers all aspects of snow.
Bottom line here, people, I hate winter.
So, is it any wonder then that the protagonist of my latest WIP hates winter, too?
Now, I’m not talking about a mild dislike of winter. Nope. She actually hates it. Read a few chapters and you’ll know what I mean because she comments on it. A lot.
(Probably too much I’m thinking, which is why I’m constantly having to go back and edit.)
Now, I remember back in the 1990’s, I had this heroine in a romance I was writing for Bantam who seemed to be obsessed with food. I’d re-read scenes I’d written a few days later and find paragraph after long (boring) paragraph that described food. Food she ate in a restaurant. Food she was thinking of eating when she got home. Food she’d eaten when she was a kid. I mean, seriously, the woman was obsessed with food.
My CP at the time had called me and said that I either had to stop dieting while I wrote the book, or—
Okay, she didn’t have a second suggestion. She just said I needed to stop dieting while I wrote the book. The thing was, my own obsessions were beginning to overshadow the obsessions of my characters.
So, my question for this snowy (what else?) February morning is...
For the writers out there: Do you ever find your characters have taken on your own obsessions? If so, how do you handle it?
For the readers out there: Have you ever suspected that this was happening? If so, how did it affect your enjoyment of the book?