I love it when I dream about my characters, really I do. I’ve gotten loads of fresh ideas that way, insight into their thought processes, plots for short stories, and better descriptions. I like being able to hear their voices.
But now it seems that they’re using my sleeping brain as a forum for airing grievances.
Last night, Daniel let me know, in no uncertain terms, that he has no idea how I got my hands on his memoirs, that I have absolutely no right to publish the contents of his journals, and that he will take legal action if I persist in this unconscionable invasion of his privacy – his words, not mine. Given that this is Daniel, I feel lucky that he didn’t just dispatch me quickly and be done with it.
Honestly, though, it does make sense. The poor man is an excessively private and painfully shy individual who hates people just because they exist. He must feel awfully exposed.
Unfortunately, he’ll just have to suck it up and deal with it.
Incidentally, I also had lengthy conversations with several other characters, but their complaints were all spoiler-laden and in places verged on Ozian. (Sebastian needs a heart, Lenny needs courage, Jadwiga needs a baseball bat, etc.) Sandie wants me to finish The Siren so she can finally get out of my head. I do owe her that. So much to do, so little time…