Sometimes books leave marks. Usually it’s small things. An
expansion of empathy or understanding, observations that wouldn’t have occurred
to you had you not followed this or that characters. Sometimes the aftereffects
are larger. Stories can build new windows inside you, transport you out of your
reality and return you with wider eyes, and sometimes they leave scars.
I’m wide open when I read. It’s like all the skepticism I’ve
learned to buffer myself with in face-to-face human interactions is stripped
away when I meet a new character. And that openness has turned reading into a
really intense experience. You know that feeling when you’re watching a
character do something really embarrassing on TV, like Michael Scott in The
Office – where you’re cringing and writhing for them? That’s how reading is for
me, but it’s ALL the emotions, all the time.
I used to think that everyone read like this, that dots and
lines on a page translated into a deep and immersive experience. Not so, it
turns out. Everyone takes different things from the stories they read,
depending on what they bring with them – perceptions, experiences, desires,
distractions.
It wasn’t until recently that I started to understand how
much an author’s intent might influence my reading experience. That sounds
stupid, because of course the author
meant for me to feel certain things. Even people who say they “only” want to escape and be
entertained expect to feel something.
Maya Angelou has that great quote, “I've learned that people will forget what
you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you
made them feel.”
And this is great, and sometimes it’s
really painful.
Authors don’t want to hurt you, but
sometimes books leave scars. Sometimes they scar the author. I recall reading
either an interview or a blog post – it was probably a blog post – by Robin
McKinley, who talked about limping around her house, cradling her arm for weeks
as she wrote about Aerin, the main character of The Hero and the Crown, having barely survived a fight with the
great dragon Maur.
I’ve never physically suffered along
with my characters. I’ve pined and been embarrassed and wept for other writer’s
characters, but never my own. Until this most recent book. Falling from the Light
was supposed to be a continuation of my Night Runner series. When it became
obvious that the series wasn’t going to continue for much longer, I needed to
bring Sydney and Mal’s story to a kind of conclusion. Not an airtight end with
proclamations of love and a stroll into the sunset, but to a place of closure.
And I hated it. The events that take place in Falling from the Light are pretty
rough, but as I polished and revised and rewrote to take this from a happening to an ending, they became more and more dire. My unhappiness with the end
of the series was translating into pain on the page, which became more and more
difficult to write. I hurt, but the story arc was so fitting. These characters
are so strong inside, and what they wanted was so far beyond easy, that getting
it had to hurt.
I didn’t realize quite how strongly readers would react.
I’ve been tweeted at, and received emails from curious readers before. I’d
never received whole paragraphs of all caps and exclamation points, or woken up
to a dozen DMs full of “how could you’s”. I don’t conspire to pour readers’
tears into my mug to stiffen my tea. And I assume that most of the authors who
have made me cry – and that one that made me gasp then cry, though I think that
had to do with jetlag and cold medicine – don’t either. But it happens.
What stories have made you laugh or wonder? Which have plucked your heart off
of your sleeve and squeezed it uncomfortably tight? Do you hate it? Are you
addicted to it?
***
FALLING FROM THE LIGHT Blurb
Phoenix, AZ
All Sydney Kildare wants is a minute in the slow lane, some
time to decide where she’s going with her vampire lover, Malcolm Kelly. But
after sitting out the last battle, the powerful Master Bronson is giving orders
again, and he isn’t above blackmailing his former courier to get what he wants.
With Mal sent to track a vicious killer, Syd is forced to
infiltrate a pharmaceutical company responsible for a drug that turns vampires
into real monsters. She’s unprepared and alone, but fiercely determined. If her
investigation doesn’t satisfy the Master, Malcolm will pay the price. A wrong
turn throws her into the middle of a vampire power play. Caught between
twisting forces, with their freedom at stake, she’ll have to decide what’s more
important: love, power or revenge. But choosing what feels right might turn out
all wrong.
***
About the Author
Regan Summers is the author of the romantic urban fantasy
Night Runner series. As a native Alaskan, she’s used to long, cold nights but
thinks they’re better with a helping of sexy vampires. Don’t Bite the
Messenger, the first in the series, was a finalist for the 2013 EPIC eBook
Awards in the paranormal category.
Find her here:
