What draws throngs of flip-flopped Oregon women to the theater to see a flick like Sex and the City?
It's Carrie Bradshaw.
We want to be her. Why wouldn't we want to be her? She is funny, and successful, and loved, as well as the Queen of What To Wear. Who wouldn't want to walk a mile in those Manolo Blahniks?
My sixteen year old brother has no intention of seeing Sex and the City. It's because he has no desire to be Carrie Bradshaw. Crazy, I know.
But after the non-reader recently reviewed my YA manuscript, the first thing he told me was how much he liked the main character: "I am him! And all of my friends are him! And I know a dad just like his dad!"
Interesting.
Sure, I always knew that character development was of astronomical importance. But at 37, I'm finally understanding why.
It's either because we are or know her, or because we want to be her.
Right now, I'm Carrie Bradshaw - Virgina Woolf - Bridget Jones - Rachael Ray. In flip flops.
Who are you?
4 comments:
Tina Fey, apparently.
I think I am the lady from the movie "Prizewinner" starring Julianna Moore about a mother of ten who writes in her head while she's cooking except I'm wearing the Blahniks, too.
I'm feeling like Magda, Miranda's housekeeper/nanny/frump.
I am, unfortunately, not emulating or embodying anyone but myself right now.
I think that might be because I am being forced to stay in the moment. No time for daydreaming and imagining.
I want to be Slater, Julie's pal.
Mia
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