I cry during books. True story. I cry while writing my own books. I cry while revising them. I cry while reading them. I cry during other people’s books–even the ones I’m reading for the seventy-billionth time. Books make me cry.
I really cry when characters get their feelings hurt or when they’re going through something horrible. It’s hard being a crying reader. I can’t seem to stop it. Books make me feel exposed. Books allow me to experience everything–everything I might not have to/or get to go through in the real world.
Books are powerful.
I remember the first time I sobbed my brain out during a book was with Message in a Bottle. (You got me once, Sparks! Never again.) So, I don’t read sad books because everything I said above…is during books with happily-ever-afters. Sad books make me cry and leave me depressed and weepy for days because, unlike real life, you can’t resolve a sad book ending–it stays sad forever.
The first novella in How to Bring Your Love Life Back from the Dead makes me bawl so I’d only revise it at night. If you’ve read it, this is the part that triggers the waterworks and makes me sob and sob and sob:
Standing in front of the door, Daniel got his key out, but he stopped with it in the keyhole. “I need to tell you something, Lauren.”
She’d been at his side, joking about walking him to his door, but at this, her heart sank, and she took a few steps back. “You know, there are no conversations starting with those words that are good news.” No, this had happened before. She got all excited about a guy—to the point that he seemed almost superhuman in her eyes, and then he proved without a doubt, he was most definitely human. Never to this degree of course, but that should have told her the end would be a harder fall.
That part makes me cry my eyes out. With happily-ever-after books, though, I also feel a stronger intensity of emotion when it’s resolved and things work out–when they overcome moments like the one above. I love happy books that make me cry–even though I hate crying.