Empty

I feel bereft. Of what exactly, I'm not sure. A good story perhaps? The fact that I have to leave behind favourite characters, riveting plot and a perfectly imaginable and believable world?

This rarely befalls me. I remember it happening a handful of times; a long time ago after I read Mercedes Lackey's The Last Herald-Mage series and Stephen Donaldson's Mordan'ts Need series. There were a few more but what happens is that my mind is filled with the world and the characters that inhabit it, usually, it's a series or trilogy.

After the third book of the same characters and the fantasy world they live in, it's difficult to let it all go when the story's finally ended. It takes a few days for my mind to leave them all behind and get on with the next book. And sometimes, my life. When the characters won't get themselves out of my head, I find my eyes may close in imitation of sleep but that's just it: an imitation. My ability to knock off after my head hits the pillow is sorely tested and I become an insomniac for at least one night.

It gets difficult to pick up a new book and start on a new story. Unhitching from the fantasy world gets to be difficult and finding a new story to interest me takes some work, especially if the next story is not of the fantasy genre.

In the end, I survived finishing the King of Attolia by barely skimming through Barry Lyga and only Gene Luen Yang managed to haul my ass back to interested reader mode. Nothing like the Monkey God and a graphic novel to get you out of a funk.