Fiction is real. Crazy concept, right? I say this because, deep down, we read novels and equate them to our own world, our own reality. This is how we get lost in the characters, disappear into the story, relate the plot to our own lives. Somewhere inside each chapter lay a moment that reminds us of our problems and our joys. A good read evokes all that we are and, in some ways, all we wish to become. That’s the truth…wrapped up in an imaginary world.
As an author, I need to live the story, breathe the same air my characters breathe. I must sit at the same spot each has sat, and witness with my own eyes, the tragedies that befall. Of course, when stepping into the world of Intimate Nightmares, I couldn’t actually bring to life what would eventually succumb to death, but I was able to sit there, and paint a virtual reality strong enough to make you feel as if you were there too.
Here is where it happened, this picture, this view across the river; the place in time that threw Arianna further into a depth of despair so far down it took the unconditional love of those around her to help pull her out. Don’t get me wrong. Nobody else can completely save us. Like Arianna, we have to put in the work to heal ourselves. But in times of need is when we find out who truly cares…and who doesn’t.
Whether you’re single or married, divorced or separated, we can all relate to the issues surrounding Arianna’s life. While we might not have experienced every detail, we all know pain, and some of us know recovery. With hope, more of us can get to that place we call peace of mind. Maybe when you submerse yourself into the story you’ll gain at the very least, a little clarity. Perhaps you’ll know who’s worth saving…and who would save you.
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