Last night, in the doctor’s office of all places, my mother and I had another conversation about fictional characters.
One of the things I look for in a good story is whether I can connect to the characters or not.
I’m an only child. To make up for this, many of my favorite fictional characters (and sometimes my favorite famous people) are like family to me. I used to shy away from this, because I thought if people knew, they would think I was weird. But more recently, I’ve embraced it. I even admitted it in my Children’s Literature class.
In response to How much of me actually goes in the stories?
Some people think that I don’t get embarrassed easily. In fact, they don’t think I get embarrassed at all. That couldn’t be further from the truth.
One day, in one of my English classes this past year, my professor – who just happens to be the head of the English department at Randolph-Macon College – said something like this: “We don’t read for escapism. We read to critique.”