Yesterday’s prompt for NaBloWriMo was: If you could live the life of any heroine or hero from one of your favorite books, which one would it be?
I thought about this for a while.
And I can’t come up with a heroine whose life is everything I want mine to be, who is herself the kind of person I want to be. In fact, the reason I often admire a heroine is precisely because she is flawed. She has several redeeming qualities, but I am able to relate to her because I myself am flawed. I think I spend half of my time (or more) trying to fix my mistakes, fumbling around with my foot in my mouth… and so do my heroines. I love them because I empathize with them. I wince when I read their painful blunders not because I pity them, but because I know exactly how that feels.
So in many ways, I already am living the lives of my heroines. Not that an account of my life would be the next New York Times Bestseller, but in a very real sense, I do have my own story. I’m incredibly far from perfect. Just like my heroines, I’m taking life one step at a time, figuring it out as I go along. I can be comforted during those all-too-frequent times when I mess up by reading one of my favorite books and knowing that I am not alone.