I'm in the middle of Jane Eyre. Or can we say towards the end? I'm actually on page 364. I can hardly put this book down at all. Even now, I wish I could be reading it. It's incredible. It has brought me to tears time and time again. I also refuse to Google it or watch the movie version until I'm finished. I don't want to know the ending.
But... Yes, I have read ahead a bit. I couldn't help myself. Not so much as to spoil me, but just to get a jist of what might happen. To find out if she sees Mr. Rochester again.
Wow. This book is unbelievable. It reminds me of why I wanted to be a writer. This is the kind of book I want to write. A book full of darkness, of heartbreak, of rejoicing... This book has really inspired me.
I don't think my writing always fits under the role of pure romance. I want darkness in my writing. I want to write large sweeping books, full of drama, but the ebook format doesn't always support that. Don't get me wrong... I love my books. I put a piece of my soul in every one. (Which must be why I feel the sting when a review isn't altogether postive...even though I seek these reviews). When I go to write my driver series books, the characters are as real to me as my son is real to me.
All I'm saying is that I just know there is a book inside of me that is my Jane Eyre. No, I'm not saying I could ever write as well as Charlotte Bronte. I'm just saying that my epic novel is inside me, somewhere, just waiting for my writing to mature enough for me to put it down in words.
Now I just need to get through this work day so I can read some more...