Sometimes, it is very difficult to separate fact from fiction.
There is a part in my new book where the main character gets trapped in a room. No matter how hard she tries, she just cannot open the door to leave the room.
I was writing that segment the week before last. I finished, put away my stuff, and went to the door to open it.
It was thoroughly stuck. The knob would not turn. No matter how hard I tried, I could not get the door to open.
Lucky for me my husband heard my calls and succeeded in releasing me from my prison. Good thing too, since I’m a tad claustrophobic, and the only other way out of the room is through the window, the room is on the second floor, and I also have a fear of heights.
This week as I wrote, my character was again dealing with doors, and was very pleased that she was able to go through doors that were partially open. So she was careful to not fully close the door of whatever room she was in.
I looked over at the door of the room where I do my writing, and had to chuckle. I had not closed the door all the way, fearing that it would become stuck again.
So which way is it…is fiction grounded in fact, or do our real lives somehow mirror fiction?
It makes you think, doesn’t it?