My work, my passion, my escape is into the glamorous world of the Carrows. But then again, I’m doing them a disservice by only speaking of their exotic, privileged surroundings. At heart, my series is a family saga. I know who these people are, and I sincerely like hanging out with them.
Someone, (memory lapse), wrote a book about characters coming to “actual” life. Was it Stephen King? Help, someone out there? But the thought of it stuck with, and slightly haunts me. This family in particular, and all my characters are real to me. If no one reads about them, how can they become real?
I’m certain all authors feel the same way about their characters. Where do they come from? Where do they go when the pages close? Hopefully, they are re-visited on new adventures, on new campaigns, and shared with others along the way. With every book opening, they become real again.
The Carrows are also a weapon for me to wield. They are a group of likeable grifters, unapologetically wealthy, who are not only having a kick-ass life but are also kicking some ass. Unimaginable wealth and resources will free a girl to set her sights on something that is wrong, and with the Carrows in my hip pocket, I can brandish them about and take the bad guys to their knees. I like that. It makes me feel warm and safe, believing in the magic that there are those who can and will do what is right–people who settle up with the bad guys, one at a time.
I believe angels walk amongst us. Those who pluck along, doing the right thing, most unnoticed, possibly for their entire lives but regardless, carry on. Maybe as a reward, in their next life, they can to come back doing their good deeds but experiencing it in a world – a la Carrows.
Sigh. If only.