Gullibility

The other night, I totally fell for it. In a Netflix series I had been watching, one of the characters died, and I totally took it seriously. I believed it and was seriously so sad. She was a vital part of the story, and I was totally baffled as to how the writers could possibly do such a thing. And the fact that I have used "totally" in nearly every sentence so far shows you how truly distressed I was. I avoided watching the show for the next few days because I was bothered. When I finally sat down and watched the next episode, it turned out that this character had just been in a deep coma or something and quit breathing, but she came back to life. Totally ridic—even for being set in a far simpler time, medically—but I'll admit I felt so much better.

And simultaneously so sheepish that I had fallen for it and let myself get so caught up in a silly show. It reminded me of how I was so sucked in to the beginning of the book Life of Pi that I actually thought it was a true story. (Read about it on the other blog here, but only if you want to mock me for being scared of a baby racoon—'cause that's what'll happen after you read this post.)

So while I was balancing feelings of both relief and chagrin, I started to chide myself for being so gullible. But then I thought, no. Maybe the getting sucked in and the believing is just the mark of good writing. I'd be thrilled if someone thought my book was a true story, at least sort of. Thrilled and then only slightly concerned. But maybe writers would consider it a compliment, so I'm not going to be embarrassed anymore. Just appreciative of the captivating and sometimes spellbinding fun and adventure literature (and Netflix) can bring to the world.