As a child I was obsessed with the cemetery in my back yard. Yes you read that right . My-back-yard. I loved to pull out crayons and a blank sheet of white paper. I’d look around and contemplate which headstone I wanted to do a rubbing of. Who was going to have the most interesting back-story? Living in Illinois meant I had lots of old, old stones to choose from. I loved the smell of the green grass in summer, feel the breeze blow my hair around me, and wonder, what did Ruth-Anne Templeton do in 1819? You may say weird but I say cool.
Books are like graveyards until the writers give them a story. Each book has a cemetery full of characters. They have a name, a face, and a past. Until the story develops though, you as a reader sit and wonder what makes them who they are, why would they react this way? And every now and again the writer will kill them off adding them to the graveyard of your imagination. Happy Halloween tomorrow. What are the ghosts in your house doing at midnight tonight?