You’ve probably heard about sub drop before, but have you ever heard about book drop? It’s the sense of loss you feel once a book is done. It’s exacerbated when you finish writing one.
There’s a little period of mourning that seems to come at the end of every story. The only antidote I know is to start another one – or continue working on one that had to sit on the back-burner whilst you finished the one you’re now pining for.
I miss Tank. Which is weird because she’s not real, but I do miss her. I was feeling a little down and trying to work out why and it hit me that was probably it. I also miss Rigel. There’s this bit I just found when re-reading Operation Sadiemeister and it made me all kinds of excited:
It wasn’t until Sadie saw Kate sneaking into her room with a bag of chips because she was clearly too nervous to cook with Rigel there that she snapped. “Okay, that’s enough,” she said determinedly, walking in front of the television, picking up the remote and turning the tv off.
“What on earth are you doing?” Rigel frowned at her.
“I’m finding out what is wrong with you,” Sadie said, gathering her courage.
“There’s nothing wrong with me, give me the remote.” Rigel held out her hand for it expectantly, a dark expression gathering on her features.
“Yes, there is. You’re being mean.”
Rigel’s brows drew into one line. “I will show you mean if you keep this up, girl.”
“No. You won’t. Kate and I worked really hard on that floor and you didn’t say anything nice at all. You just snapped at us, and now Kate is hiding in her room. Is that how she deserves to live? Afraid of you?” Sadie lectured, waggling the remote at Rigel.
“Give me the remote, Sadie,” Rigel repeated herself, her tone quiet with menace.
“No. I’m confiscating it until you get your head out of your ass,” Sadie replied.
For a moment, Rigel looked surprised, and not in a good way. Then she stood up and stepped over to Sadie, closing the distance between them almost completely. For the nth time, Sadie was forced to look up at Rigel, but this time she didn’t need her chin held up to keep eye contact, she glowered up just as much as Rigel glowered down.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she said, setting her jaw firmly.
“I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” Rigel replied.
“Is that why you’re standing over me?” Sadie said.
“No, I’m standing over you because,” Rigel grabbed the remote and twisted it out of Sadie’s hand whilst simultaneously grabbing Sadie with the other and turning her enough to slap her hard across her bottom with the back of the remote. “You made me.”
I’m pretty sure that swooning over your own characters is probably a perverse form of masturbation, but I have been both blessed and cursed by a terrible memory so when I read these things, it’s like I’m reading them somewhat for the first time. I read Rebel Priestess tonight too and got all swoony over Constance. It should probably be somewhat concerning that the only tops I can imagine submitting to are ones I made up in my head, but there you have it.
It’s weird how attached one can get to fictional characters. There’s a strange vulnerability you get when you get attached to someone else’s characters. You want more, but you’re at the mercy of the author – who invariably then goes and writes about a talking teapot or something you have no interest in, so they’re no good to you at all. Damn authors. Something should be done about them.