A Room With A View....

Happy Monday! I wanted to start by congratulating my fellow HEA bloggers. There have been some awesome room blogs over the past few weeks. Brava ladies!

So, the room I chose to chat about today is one we take with us everywhere. This room can be a place of comfort and peace or it can be a place where we relive our worst nightmares, repeatedly. As an individual, I find my space is very private. As a woman, there are times I find it to be a swirling pit of emotions where copious amounts of chocolate are needed to lull it into submission. However, in all honesty, there are times when even I think the room needs a strong bolt and a warning sign telling passersby to steer clear. ~grin~

This got me thinking about my characters. Do they sometimes wish for a no trespassing sign to keep me from bursting into their lives and rummaging around upstairs looking for fear and conflict to grace the pages of my book? Do they cringe when I pull out their deep, dark secrets and present them for others reading pleasure? Do I leave that tempestuous room a barren and desolate place? Or perhaps, I change it for the better? You know knock down a few walls; let in the light, brighten the place up, as it were? Or maybe I stayed up too late while writing this and am over thinking this whole thing?

I don’t think so. Nope, I don’t think so.

These characters trust us to be gentle. They trust us not to pillage their minds then run with our ill-gotten gains. They trust us to always make things right.
Or as right as we can.

I have to wonder though, does my intrusion ultimately help the damsel in distress, fearful for her life and/or dignity, locked in the pirate’s cabin waiting for the dread sea stalker to arrive. Could I be doing lasting damage to the hero by locking him up, holding him against his will only to torture him with the threat of harm befalling his woman?

Ugh!

As a writer, I try my best to fix what’s broken. To leave my characters with their happy ever after and then some, but as their creator it sometimes bothers me to rifle through their secrets, their pain, their private rooms looking for a story.

Am I the only one who feels like this?

Here’s a snippet of what I found in Mari’s head when she wasn’t looking…

Had she’d known this man would be dangerous to her well-being, she might have waited for the next alpha to cross her path. To love him would be easy, though the broken heart could kill her.
Marina took one last look at the man who had changed her world before leaving the haven they’d created inside the gazebo. She would regret this decision for years to come. Unfortunately, she had no choice. Half-breeds never had a choice. They were not welcomed by full-bloods, nor were they allowed in any pride. He’d accepted her as a full-blood only because she’d hidden her scent.
She was several miles down the road, clothes on, in the car they’d brought from the casino, when she heard the pained cry of a cat. Agony, too great to be hers alone, tore at her chest. Tears ran down her face as she wished the cry was for her.

~Note - she did eventually forgive me for the intrusion...

Have a great week everyone!