Megan just wrote what I’ve been feeling my entire life since I started reading. For putting into words these bookish feelings, I thank you.
I live for the middle.
The beginning of a book, with its set-up and character introductions and attempts to land you in the action? Well, it’s necessary, certainly. But not my favorite thing.
And the end, with its explanations and wrap-up, unsolved questions or lackluster surprises? Its complications? That’s all right, but I usually wind up wishing I could un-read what I’ve read and return to the middle.
Because the middle of a story, oh . . . when I’ve invested enough energy and time to get to know these people and feel what they’re feeling so much that I can’t wait to return to their world, to hurry between chapters? That’s the magic time. When the road stretches far for both of us, off into a horizon even I can’t see, and anything at all could be possible . . . well, that is it.
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