What People are Saying about ‘Sons of Earth’

A manufactured person is no person at all. A clone designed to fight and die, Dominic escaped from the metallic womb of Caspian Genetics and became a citizen of the City. His intellect and superior genetic makeup place him in the elite class, the very class that would eliminate him if they knew what he was. Still, Dominic cannot forget his enslaved brothers.

Determined to match his wits against Caspian’s might, he delves deep into the factory that birthed him. But how can Dominic stand against an industry that denies his personhood when he doubts his own humanity? How can he guard his secrets when a beautiful, vulnerable scientist makes him long to leave his solitary life?

As his plans unravel, Dominic is forced to face the question: Was he lied to? Is he human after all?

That’s the ‘trailer’ version of Sons of Earth, my second novel, published this march. I’ve appreciated those of you who’ve written reviews for Sons of Earth and I’ve loved discussing it with others. Here are two examples of what people are saying.

“This is one of the most fascinating books I’ve read in quite a while. It reminded me a little bit of Blade Runner because of the artificial human aspect, but it really was much better than that in a lot of ways. The story managed to get deep down into Dominic’s mind, subtly displaying to the reader almost from the very beginning that he really does have a soul in spite of what he believes and in spite of what others have told him. The writing is smooth and descriptive, and everything is wonderfully real, so much so that it lets the reader feel a touch of unease at how plausible this not-so-futuristic world really is,” –William, on Amazon.com.

I’d never seen Blade Runner, but I picked up the creepy dystopian movie soon after reading William’s review. I think I can consider that a compliment. 🙂

Kjames says:

“A lot of dystopian books focus on the external environment to the detriment of the characters. However, this one challenges our conventions about personhood and the rights of the individual. As we mature we all wonder who we are and where we fit in the world. We have people telling us who we are and what we should do and that is what the MC has to deal with along with what his conscious knows he must do for his kind. You will enjoy this story even if you aren’t a huge dystopian fan.”

What I appreciate about these two reviews is that the readers weren’t just entertained (of course I want to do that!) but also gave some thought to the subtle messages behind the story. Of course I don’t aim to be preachy, but I put my passions behind my words.

Have you read Sons of Earth? I’d love to hear your thoughts. If not, check it out. It’s only 2.99 on Amazon.com right now.

Sons of Earth on Kindle Select

Hi Friends,

If you are a Kindle Select subscriber, Sons of Earth can be read for free!

Also, if you’ve yet to pick up We are the Living, it is 1.99 on Amazon Kindle for a few more days.

It’s a freak snowstorm day here in Manitoba–a good day to curl up with a book. I’m going to get in a few chapters of Harry Potter yet. 🙂

Have a great day,

Geralyn

I Guess I’m Too Old For Harry Potter

I was as thrilled as a little schoolgirl this morning when I stumbled across the box set of Harry Potter novels posted on Varage Sale. In an instant, I’d answered a cool ‘interested’ in the comments section while inside I was screaming “Meeeeeee! I’ll take them! Give them to me!”

Thus and thus, I became proud owner of the Harry Potter books at age 24. When I was a youngster, growing up in a conservative Christian home, all things Harry Potter were forbidden on account of the magic. I agree that magic is a biblically grey area, and if I should have children, I’d probably at least want to read the books with them so we could talk about those things. So, unlike my peers who grew up with Harry, Ron and Hermione, I waited to meet them until last autumn.

I committed to the movies first, and I thoroughly enjoyed them. Never mind that they were ‘kids movies’. Little Harry and his friends were so darn cute, and I especially loved know-it-all Hermione. I’d be the one going ‘Don’t you read?’ too. Later on, as the stakes get higher and the movies become darker in tone, the relationship between Harry and his friends grows even stronger in contrast the evil they face. Yeah, there’s a little bit of harmless romance in the story, but the platonic, brotherly love is what shines in these stories. Love, sacrifice, friendship and loyalty are praised almost above all else.

I’ve been reading a lot of ‘kids books’ lately. I’m plugging away at a seven-in-one volume of the Chronicles of Narnia. Narnia is my lunchtime escape from the perils of work. The imagination is so much fresher than in ‘adult’ books. The good is so much ‘gooder’ and the bad is so much more cut and dry. I guess I’m surrounded by cynicism all day, so reading a kids book is refreshing to the mind.

So I’ve finally got my hands on the Harry Potter series. I’ll be the lone adult on the plane or in the waiting room, reading Harry Potter. So what if I’m too old? 🙂

My Best Books of 2014

Which books changed my life in 2014?

I read thirty-six books this year, as of today. I hope to make it 37 before midnight tomorrow, if I can pound out the last of Plato’s Republic. Many of these volumes were forgotten the instant I put it back on the bookshelf, or shut off my Kindle.

Others changed me. I quoted new phrases. I modified my philosophy. I gained courage. I ate differently. Which were my most memorable books of 2014?

The Life-Changer: Trim Healthy Mama

This book, by Serene Allison and Pearl Barrett, set the tone for the entire year.  It was a year filled with fitness victories, as I lost nearly forty pounds, and gained a passion for running.

I have already written extensively on the diet and lifestyle espoused in the book Trim Healthy Mama.  You can read a summary of what it is and why I chose it here, some of my favourite benefits here, and more about my weight-loss and food addiction journey here.

Most-Quoted: Slaughterhouse 5

Though it wasn’t quite the page-turner that Divergent, the Maze Runner, and other popular novels I read this year, Slaughterhouse 5 lingers much longer.

After watching the Crash Course with John Green video discussing Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse 5, I was intrigued by the Tralfamadorian aliens, Billy Pilgrim’s complete unhinging from reality (and time and space), the fire-bombing of Dresden, and the ideas of time and free will.  It is also a strangely comedic book, considering the traumatic subject matter.

There was a lot of death this year, as there always is in this evil world. My method of dealing with this involved denial, impotent rage, helpless tears, prayer, and bouts of jaded weariness.  In those times, it was tempting to say ‘so it goes’ every time I’d heard someone died. I also gave thought to what time actually is, and how free we are to choose our destiny. I tend to oppose the Tralfamadorian idea of complete fatalism.

It is also no accident that the ‘Society of Immortals’ in the series I am writing makes their headquarters in Dresden.

Best Business Book: Rise of the Machines

How do you make yourself stand out in social media? How do you make your blog a success? Frankly, I was lost.

Rise of the Machines, by Kristen Lamb brought me from the dark ages of promo-tweeting, into the adventure of making friends through Twitter, Facebook and other social media platforms. I’m no social media wiz, but at least I have some idea of how to make the most of these resources and not bore everyone to death in the process. Particularly helpful was her blogging advice, which promotes a highly relatable style based on your personal interests, stories and experiences and not on your actual profession (because apparently only writers want to hear writers rant about writing).

The One That Haunts Me: Thank You for Your Service

I stumbled across Thank You for Your Service, by David Finkel in McLeans magazine while I was revising We are the Living for publication. It’s the story of several American soldiers and their families, who live with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, traumatic brain injuries, or physical injuries. It was probably intended as an expose of the inadequate care these men and women receive, but for me it was about seeing life through their eyes.

I was in the midst of writing Liam, the male lead of We are the Living, who has battled through the compound effects of a brain injury and PTSD and cannot quite break free of their stigma. This book sharpened my image of Liam, but it also showed my what a no-win situation his might be.  This, combined with some events in my family, shaped the conclusion of the story. I realized that a straight-up happy ending wasn’t in the cards for him, just like their was no quick fix for the families in Thank You for Your Service. But there was great opportunity for love, courage and redemption.

The Book from Left-field: The Way of the Fight

I found this autobiography of UFC champion Georges St. Pierre crammed into the teetering ‘Religion’ shelf of a an overcrowded used bookstore. I pulled it out and hee-hawed with my friends. They didn’t know who St. Pierre was, but were amused/embarrassed at the cover, which featured the fighter bare-chested and geared for the fight. I’d developed an interest in St. Pierre and the UFC after watching some pre-fight coverage on a TV at the local McDonalds. I was puzzled by what would motivate a man to make a career of beating people up on national television.  Here was my chance to find out.  It turned out, MMA fighting is much more complicated than that.

It’s less of a life-story and more an explanation of his ideology. St. Pierre comes across as a philosopher, a learner, and a man dedicated to a craft. In fact, much of what he said on conquering fear, managing risk, submitting to mentorship, and constant learning could be applied directly to writing.  I was in the thick of publishing We are the Living at the time, and choking on the fear of exposing my novel (and thus the inner workings of my mind) to an audience. The Way of the Fight turned out to be the medicine I needed.

The One I Wrote: We are the Living

How do you find peace and hope when you have no control over your life?

Kayla’s plans are as finely tuned as her cello, so when Liam joins her friends on their tour of Europe, she resents him.  The ex-soldier with a fragile psyche seems like a liability.  But when political turmoil in France explodes into a zombie apocalypse, their lives may depend on this warrior’s skills.

Their flight takes them to a tiny Italian community where a mysterious priest is curing zombies. There, Kayla and Liam’s shared horror draws them together.  But they aren’t the only ones who want the cure.

As the threat of the living eclipses the danger of the undead, they must decide whether to run, or to fight for those they love.

“Zombies Geralyn?” a friend said to me. “It’s not a zombie novel,” I always said, “It’s a love story that has zombies in it.” I relished writing scenes of gritty hand-to-hand combat between undead, the living and rebel/terrorist fighters. Snappy dialogue and off-beat humour was my joy. But it’s the relationship that develops between Liam and Kayla that I’m most proud of. You can pick it up here.

Other excellent books I read included: The Forgotten Trinity (White), Wheat Belly (Davis), The Amazing Connection Between Food and Love (Smalley), A Whole New Mind (Pink), The Lord of the Rings (my third read-through of the giant classic), Divergent (Roth), The Republic (Plato), and City of Bones (Clare).

What Did You Read?

I’m curious. What were the best books you read this year? I’m always searching for a great new read. Right now I’m in the market for a great novel. Was there a book that changed you this year?

The Breaking of Liam

“We’ve got to go.” The first intelligible words I heard. Liam. His voice was low, but deadly calm. He grabbed my shoulders and raised me up, but I recoiled from him. He didn’t seem to notice. “Simone,” he said. “We’ve got to go. We can’t stay here.”

“I still have my gun,” Simone said.

I turned, saw the gun still locked in Liam’s hand and stifled a scream. Morgan’s body lay behind me. I couldn’t turn around, so I had to look at Liam’s face, blank as blank could be.

“The map is gone,” he said, “But I remember the way. Come.”

Simone started after him, and so did I. And then I glanced back. Morgan’s body lay crumpled, just off the road. Blood pooled around his head.

I vomited onto my shoes.

Liam turned around, dead eyed. “Keep up.”

Keep up? Rage welled up inside me. “Keep up? You just shot your brother and you’re telling me to keep up? You… you psychopath!”

Liam’s face twitched. His mouth opened and clenched shut. He turned around and kept walking.

“Hey!” I followed after him. “Hey!”

Liam spun around. His face was almost purple, so contorted he could hardly be recognized. “What do you want me to say?” he ground out. I could hardly hear him over my own pounding heart. Again, a little louder, “What do you want me to say?”

Simone grabbed me from behind. “Stop it!”

I didn’t care. I wasn’t even in my right mind. “I could kill you!”

Simone clamped her dirty hand over my mouth and restrained me. Liam turned around. His shoulders formed a hard line, a wall between us, and he marched on. Simone pushed me forward, after him.

“Stop,” she whispered in my ear. “Just leave him alone. You don’t understand.”

Something about her words clicked in my mind. My anger dissipated to a low burn, and I followed after Liam.

My legs pumped in an effort to keep up with Simone. My mind reeled in unintelligible patterns. My stomach ached from vomiting. I would keep up. I would.

The sun began to set. Liam pointed to a house in the distance, and we made it just as the sun slipped behind the hills. We had the last few twilight minutes to make sure the house was empty. It was.

But for safety, Liam packed us into a tiny, windowless room. Simone, then me, then him against the door. The air was stifling, reeking of my own sweat and that of my companions.

We were silent. There was nothing to say. I tried to sleep, but I couldn’t. Beside me Liam was rigid as full rigor. His breath rasped in and out.

I huddled close to Simone so I didn’t have to touch him.

Then, like a rupture, I heard a tearing groan come from within him. He slumped against the door. His cries hissed through his teeth, until even that could not contain them, and he sobbed like a baby.

Strong Liam, so broken, terrified me but I could not comfort him. I would not. Instead I grabbed Simone’s hand as if she could reassure me. She did not. She pushed my hand away and climbed over me to Liam. She grabbed his hand and pressed it to her lips.

“Liam,” she whispered, “Liam.”

He stirred. She grabbed his head and cradled it in her arms, stroking his face. He clutched at her hands, weeping. She cried too.
And I just lay against the wall. Every part of me hurt, but I would not cry.

And then, as quickly as it came, the storm passed. Liam jerked away from Simone. She held out her hand to him, but he ignored it and pressed himself against the wall.

“Kayla.” His voice came, low and rough, out of the darkness. “Kayla, if this should happen to me or Simone…”
“No!” I sat up. “No!”

He reached across and grabbed me by the arm. His fingers dug in to my soft flesh. “I’m serious. You can’t let that happen to Simone and you can’t let that happen to me, just like I won’t let it happen to you. Understand?”

Admit it. You wouldn’t mind having the chance.

Like I could say that to him. I was afraid of him. He was a monster. “Understood,” I squeaked. I burrowed down against my pack. My shirt was damp, sticking to me with sweat. My stomach turned with… with what? Fear? Grief?

His hand was still on my arm, but his fingers loosened and gentled before dropping away. Simone crawled back and lay down between us. She whispered in my ear. “Don’t worry, Kayla. I can do it.”

Her words, tinged with resignation, chilled me right through.

I didn’t really sleep that night. I dozed. The house made too much noise, though it may have been my imagination. There were creaks, moans like that of the undead, groans from Liam. Once I thought I heard footsteps. Liam lifted his head and listened for a long time, but the footsteps never came closer.

Thunder crackled, louder and louder. Then rain rattled on the terra cotta tiles of the roof. The tiny stream of air under the door turned moist, carrying the scent of trees and fields. Out there, things were still living.

This is an excerpt from my recent novel, We are the Living.  I have to admit that, of all the characters, I loved Liam the most.  I said to him (because authors talk to their characters sometimes), “I’m sorry, but you are going to be wrecked by the time I’m done with you.”  But will he redeem himself?  Well, I can’t tell you that, can I?
Buy Now
 

Outrunning My Idiot Complex

I’m intimidated by my trainees.

They are educated in ways I hope to attain one day–a degree in physics (physics!), a degree in finance, and possibly degrees in business administration.  They’re well traveled, and they’re much older than I am.

But neither of them know how to coat pharmaceuticals, so they’re stuck with me.  I know coating, at least.  I know it quite well.

Calculus = Smart?

I’ve always desired to be the smartest one in the room.  When I was a preteen my Dad told me how much he’d struggled with trigonometry in school.  I resolved to master it.  In high school I did, indeed, become competent in low-level trigonometry and pushed myself to study the highest maths I could.

I can’t tell you how much time and tears I expended on the subject.  Why?  Because Calculus = smart.  I studied advanced physics.  Why? Physics = smart.

All the while, I was destined to be a… writer.  Woe is me.  If only I’d thought classic literature, poetry and writing classes were the thing for smart people to do!

Recreational IQ Testing

I’ve also been known to take online IQ tests for the fun of it.  I’ve been told they only count if they’re administered by a professional, but I still like to be reassured that my IQ is just a little higher than the average Jane’s.  I may in fact be ‘gifted’.

Never mind how many derelict genius’s there are out there.

I don’t know why intelligence matters so much to me.  I don’t know why I have to be “smart”.  Logically, I believe that IQ helps, but hard work trumps talent every time.  In fact, I have this coworker who I’m certain has a high IQ and is technically “smarter” than I am.  But I outwork him every day, and soon I’m going to pass him.  I don’t believe in saying “Oh, I’m just not smart.”

So why the heck do I have to be a genius?

The Book has a Silver Lining

You can’t choose your IQ, but fortunately there are no limits on the knowledge you may absorb.  So since I’m never smart enough, I keep on reading.  Oh yeah, I love to read, but mostly I’m outrunning my idiot status.  Must know more!  Must read classic novels.  Must read books on leadership.  Must read books on history.  Must read Plato.

I can’t tell you how satisfying it is to sit in a waiting room, reading Plato while everyone else is reading tabloids.  If that doesn’t swell my head, I don’t know what will.

If only they gave PhD’s to people who read enough books.

Close Enough?

Nevertheless, I am now a professor of pharmaceutical coating.  I’ve always wanted to be a professor of something.  I asked MY coach if she feels like an idiot the whole time she is coaching trainees.

“Pretty much,” she said.

Well, then I’m on the right track.

 

 

3 Ways to Read More

The typical American reads five books a year, according to the Pew Research Center.  I suspect Canadians are not much different. When I discuss books with friends, I almost universally hear: “I should really read more.”

Reading, as important as it is to our personal growth, doesn’t feel urgent.  In the press of our insane schedules, it seems impossible to squeeze in.  I get that.  I work full time, and am self-employed as a writer.  Still, I love to read and I manage to read three to four books a month.  Here are three ways I’ve learned to get my pages in.

1. Learn to Read in Short Snatches

The reading throne.

Many of the people who say “I should read more” also say they have to sit down and read for half an hour in order to make it worthwhile.  If you can get in half an hour of reading two or three days a week, more power to you.  But I get most of my reading done in five and ten minute increments.  When at work, one of my breaks is dedicated to reading.  I pick up a book at breakfast, or just before bed.  I read for the minute while I’m brushing my teeth.  I even read on the toilet.  Yup.

I find this gives me a ‘bite’ of information to digest at a time instead of a whole meal.  It may, in fact, make reading less intimidating.

But to read in short bursts, you’ll need to…

2. Have 2 or 3 Books on the Go

Instead of focusing on one book, have two or more books on different subjects in progress.  This way, if you become bored of one, you can switch to the other.  You can have a heavy read and a light read, and alternate as you have mental energy.

I like to have three books going at one time–usually a novel, a book on personal development, and one on another subject.  Right now I’m reading The Lord of the Rings (Tolkien), Self-Editing for Fiction Writers (Browne and King), Twitter for Writers (Hall) and And Justice for All (Woodward).  That’s one novel, two books on my craft (writing), and one book on political theory.  Of course, you should tailor your reading list to your own interests and profession.

3. Have Books Everywhere

The easiest way to get a chapter in here and there will be to have books available at all times.  I keep one in my locker at work and one in my bathroom, and there is often one either on my nightstand, or on the kitchen table.

Another trick: download the free Kindle app to your smartphone.  E-books are cheap, and you probably carry your phone everywhere. I read a good chunk of Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse 5 in various checkout lines. No one need ever know you’re reading.  They’ll think you’re on Facebook. 🙂

By the way, if the book is boring, unrelatable, or just plain stupid, don’t finish it.  Time is too short to waste on a bad book.

A word of caution.  Reading is brainwashing.

As Stephen Covey said, “Begin with the end in mind.”  Decide what kind of person you want to be, or what you want to be an expert in, and let books point you that way.  I tailor my reading toward my writing career (novels are important, therefore), with a hefty dose of personal development because I’m not the person I want to be, or need to be in order to be successful.  I strongly limit my exposure to romances, especially those with explicit sexual materials.  I want to view people as brothers, sisters and friends, not sexual objects. Again, this is based on personal conviction and interest.

Read with an open mind. I’ve learned life lessons from the most unlikely books (such as lessons on fear that I learned from Georges St. Pierre’s book).  I’m learning to read, not just see what the book is about, but to find answers for questions I have.  I mine many blog post ideas from books I read.

I hope these tips are helpful. I believe that reading is one of the most valuable tools we have to make changes in our lives, and the more we read, the faster we work on ourselves.

Happy page-turning!

 

 

It Never Became Light Again

Combat veteran Liam’s steely calm has not failed, but after the traumatic death of one of his friends, his facade slips and we get a glimpse of his past.  A scene from We are the Living.

I walked out to the truck and looked at the bullet hole through the tailgate, at the piled boxes, the scattered bottles, and the blood—a dark dried stain that stabbed me harder than any cry. Just like that, fury overtook me.

I slammed the tailgate down and jumped inside. One sweep of my arm, and half the boxes flew aside. A blue vodka bottle rattled across the truck bed, to my feet. There was a bloody handprint around it. I picked it up and hurled it out the back. It shattered against the building, scattering blue shards all over the packed earth. I took a bottle of water in each hand and poured it over the truck bed. Then I stripped off my shirt and began scrubbing at the stain.

The grey fabric turned burgundy and brown. I was only smearing it. I needed more water. I needed…

“Liam?”

I swung my head around. Simone, grim-faced, stared at me from the tailgate.

“Oh.” Her face sagged a moment. “Good idea. But let me get some water.”

I shoved the t-shirt across the blood again. A moment later the truck wobbled as Simone climbed up.

“Move over. I’ll pour it.” She held up a big plastic jug of water.

Mute, I crawled out of the way. She poured the water, and Alex’s blood streamed toward the tailgate. She just kept pouring, until it had all ebbed away. Then she set it down and came to hunker down by my side.

Everything she had done barely registered. My body shook, white light flashed behind my eyes.

Oh God. Oh God, no, no. Keep it together, please!

I shut my eyes tight, and the scenes that were so familiar played before my eyes like a movie—but worse, because it was not just before my eyes but around me, in my lungs, in my nostrils. One second, a laugh is burbling from my throat, next the screech of tearing metal and the boom of the explosion. The seat I’m in separates from my body and the roof parts as I pass through it. I hit the ground. I see Breanne, sprawled beside me, her eyes catch mine, her mouth parts, the light goes from her gaze. And then everything goes dark.

And it never truly became light again.

I didn’t want to, but I whimpered.

“Liam.”

This is my fault somehow. If we’d switched spots… if I hadn’t been…

“Liam.”

My eyes cleared, and I saw Simone’s heart-shaped face and bloodshot blue eyes staring up at me. She grabbed my bare arms and my confusion and anger gave way to shame, yet I forced myself to meet her eyes.

She shook me gently, “Liam, this wasn’t your fault. If anything, was it not mine?”

“What does it matter?” I looked down, past her.

“But it is what you are thinking, is it not?” And then, before I could react, she leaned in to me and her warm hands brushed up my arms to my neck. She kissed my jaw with rough, chapped lips. “Because it’s what I’m thinking too.”

I grabbed her shoulder, if only to brace myself against her. My skin could not decide if it should recoil, or tingle with warmth. A rough laugh squeaked through my lips. “I don’t know if you can call it thinking. I haven’t been so confused since…”
She reached up and touched the scar along my hairline. “Let me guess.”

I nodded.

“It’s okay,” she said softly. “I’ll cover for you.”

I stared into her eyes, trying to formulate a response. Her head bobbed closer, and my mind made itself up. I pushed her gently away.
She looked down. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” I said. “I just can’t… right now.”

She laughed breathlessly and backed away. She rose up into a crouch and scrunched her face into a smile of sorts. I had a feeling it was her brave face. “Well, we’d better find you a shirt. Can’t have people getting ideas.”

I laughed half-heartedly and followed her off the tailgate. The heaviness pushed away just for a moment, and then swooped back in deeper and harder than before.

We are the Living, a zombie apocalypse/love story is now available on Amazon Kindle, as well as other E-Readers through Smashwords.  The print edition (which I’ll admit I’m super pumped about) will be available within a few days!  

Judge this Book by its Cover

We are the Living is so close to release I can almost taste it.  In fact I do taste it.  It savours of puke at the back of my throat, I’m so dang nervous!  Here is the first look at the cover.

The description from the back:

“Kayla’s plans are as finely tuned as her cello, so when Liam joins her friends on their tour of Europe, she resents him.  The ex-soldier with a fragile psyche seems like a liability.  But when political turmoil in France explodes into a zombie apocalypse, their lives may depend on this warrior’s skills.

Their flight takes them to a tiny Italian community where a mysterious priest is curing zombies. There, the Kayla and Liam’s shared horror draws them together.  But they aren’t the only ones who want the cure.

As the threat of the living eclipses the danger of the undead, they must decide whether to run, or to fight for those they love.”

Stay tuned!

Geralyn

Imagination Turns Dangerous

“Is it possible to read a story and not enter into it; to write a story and not become part of the script?”—Ravi Zacharias.

Isn’t it amazing how obsessed we can become with an ‘imaginary’ character?

I enjoy the BBC series Sherlock. I think it’s smart, snappy, suspenseful, and the actors are brilliant. But some people LOVE that show—they make Sherlock memes, Sherlock valentines, go to costumed Sherlock events, and write kinky Sherlock fan fiction. They masquerade as Sherlock and Watson by tweeting in character. Pretend long enough, and it becomes real, right?

Some girls dig Mr. Darcy and wish he was real, and in a moment of weakness I’ve probably done the same. I once cried because there were no men like Aragorn, Faramir and Eomir (from Lord of the Rings) in my neck of the woods.

In hindsight, that is probably for the best—the swords and all, but it’s hard not to fall for that kind of badassery.

Stories, whether on the page or screen, engage our imagination. In our minds, these people can be everything we want them to be. We can rewrite the sad endings, put the broken relationships back together, even insert ourselves into the story. As a novelist, I find I embody my characters and see through their eyes—like an actor, taking on the thoughts and intentions of her role.

But what if this becomes dangerous?

Ravi Zacharias, in his book Why Jesus, gives an extreme example:

In [The Dark Knight], award-winning actor Heath Ledger played the sinister role of the Joker with nearly satanic powers. Once again, you walked away from the movie thinking it was “just a movie.” But was it…?

In the real world, devoid of pretense, when the news of Heath Ledger’s sudden and mysterious drug-related death at the age of twenty-nine hit the news, the question being bandied about was whether his portrayal of the Joker had so overtaken his thinking that he couldn’t break free from the script of Batman. According to his co-actors and friends, Ledger ended up possessed by the Joker and unable to break free from the character, even away from the set… The sinister won the day and the Joker was no longer a phantom character, but was embodied away from the set with dire real-life consequences.

I got a taste of this phenomenon last winter. I was already suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder (aptly initialed ‘SAD’) when I began researching Post Traumatic Stress disorder to add depth to a character I was writing. Immersed in the stories of soldiers, whose lives had practically been stolen by this affliction, I began to wonder if I was writing myself deeper into depression. Sometimes I wasn’t sure if it was me or Liam (the affected character) who was screaming inside my head–a little melodramatic, but scary all the same.

This reminds me of my responsibility as an author: to speak truth, mindful that whatever I weave into my story has the potential to be expanded on the screen of the reader’s imagination. And also, to choose what I read, and what I view carefully—because unlike the ideas that are force-fed in a classroom, statements a movie or novel makes are insidious. They creep in slowly, and stick while we are still saying “it’s just entertainment.”

Is it just entertainment, or is it real? Ask the guy who tweets as Sherlock.