Your characters don't exist and other lies they tell you...

So, I have this shirt that I bought several years ago. It has a vampire-fanged mouth on it with the words "Bite Me" on it. When I started writing my Honor series, it was one of the first things to go into the book--both as her favorite retort and she wears my shirt. (It's okay, though, I borrow it back to wear it. Reeve washes it for her--we're good.) So, I wore the shirt one day and wound up working on the Creche stuff. (It's exactly perfect to wear at church when you're working on setting up nativities--or I forgot I was wearing it.) I pulled off my coat and Katie, who has read Honor, said, "You have an Honor shirt!" (Cue embarrassment.) Yes. Yes, I do. Then, she asked, "Do you wear it when you write?" Yes. Yes, I do. Actually...it's more resounding than that. Heck yeah, I do! I love that shirt. I always wear it to the dentist's office too, but they don't "get me" like my fictional characters do. In fact, typically, they just look confused--my dentist's office, I mean--not my characters. My characters know exactly what I'm thinking.

So, per my adult female prerogative, I just bought myself Christmas gifts. Merry Christmas, Wendy! You're so thoughtful. It's like you knew exactly what I wanted. I bought myself two new articles of clothing that say "Bite me!" (I've been secretly worried that something would happen to my shirt--so it's time to have back-ups.) I was trying to explain this strange behavior and excitement over my purchases to my son and it struck me as slightly neurotic.

It's not the first time, though, that there has been spillage across fictional lines for me. Either I put things from my life into the stories, or I get interested in things from their lives. I'm highly susceptible to their food choices as they are to mine.

(For those that have read the Honor series, Canadian donuts ARE really that good. It's something in the metric conversion, I swear. Also, both the son and I spray whipped cream straight into our mouths.)

Anyone else blur the lines with their characters?

So, Monday is official Kissing Day on the blogosphere.

It'll probably be my last official post for the year. We're hoping to leave Monday night for Utah in order to get ahead of the weather. (No, the car isn't magically better. Le sigh. We're taking our Expedition--which will involve so much money spent on gas--it's disturbing.) I'm hoping we'll be able to drive at night--so that my much beloved six year old will survive. Last night at the church party, they started singing "Twelve Days of Christmas" and several of my friends who've been listening to my ranting this week--snickered. (It's nice that your friends know you well enough to poke fun at an open wound.)

Right in the middle of all my buying self-love, my son managed to turn off my laptop's cursor. He was sent from the room grumbling about how he wanted to buy a shirt too. I spent twenty minutes cursing my lost cursor--and trying to figure out where it was by watching for items to be highlighted. (T has killed my cursor before--I don't know what magic thing he pushes.) Finally, I couldn't handle it anymore--so I called up the husband--who reminded me I have a touchscreen. (This is why I must buy myself stuff--only I understand the strange wonder that is me. Also, I have really good taste.)

Anyway, it's five a.m. and I've been awake since four--when B woke me up. I can't get back to sleep.

I should do my Christmas cards which have been pushed back in favor of other things nearly every day.

Nah.

Have a good Saturday, everyone!