Anyway, I've been re-reading the trilogies and sagas of one of my favourite authors and found it interesting and just a little baffling that there are errors in the time lines of the books. Though these books are supposedly checked by the writer and the editor prior to their publication, there are still those inconsistencies. Names of certain characters are not always the same but then again, these could be mere typos rather than a mistake in identity. In any case, I also found it nice that even N. Roberts does cross-overs/mash-ups in her books. I discovered that Darcy Gallagher of the Gallaghers of Ardmore trilogy made a "cameo" in the Chesapeake Bay saga. Then there's the appearance of the stunning and talented O'Hurley sisters in the Stanislaski Family series. One of the things I love about book series is that it allows me to keep track of characters I previously liked or even hated. Learning these small things were pleasant bits of revelation.
Of course, like all other times when I pick up a book and immerse myself with the story, scenarios pop up in my head and make me think about how I'd do things if it was me in the character's position. It's certainly a roller coaster of emotions but it's because of it that I can acknowledge just how moody I can be. I find that I can float on that cloud of happiness and contentment for days if I envision that long abiding in love stage, and then I can be downright crabby and surly when what I've read puts me in a position that pushes at me wrong. It's funny when I reflect on it because often I find I'd have thought me a schizo if I wasn't me. I mean, talk about a multiple personality disorder! It's fun though. I'm a sucker for romance so most times my thoughts tend to linger on the happy moments. Reality can be depressing enough so consciously--or unconsciously for that matter, I try to think of plots that please me so I face my days on a positive note.
The downside of delving into books though, is that I lose myself in them too much--enough that I sometimes forego eating, lose track of time, and disassociate myself with the rest of the world in general. Perhaps readers are artists in that way. We hole up and hide ourselves in the world our imagination has put us in, snap at anyone and anything that makes us lose our concentration, and when we resurface welcome the fresh view we have of our surroundings.
