I have a blog half written, but didn’t get it finished so I’ll post it next week This week I thought we’d just chat about Too Stupid To Live Heroines.
Most often, I hear readers getting annoyed at heroine’s for hearing a noise and going in the basement to check it out. Um…I that heroine, LOL! So when we lived in our other house, and the kids were little, we had a lot of winds. Sometimes a gate to a tiny side yard didn’t get latched, and it would bang in the wind. It was actually a terrifying sound. Long story short, Wizard would ignore it and sleep, but I had to go out into the night, cross the patio onto the grass and circle around the entire house where it’s pitch black dark, to make sure it was the gate banging and latch it. By the time I got there, my heart would be thumping louder than the gate, and fear-sweat would prickle my neck and armpits.
Some people would call that Too Stupid To Live.
But to me, it made sense. It was mentally easier to get up and live through a couple minutes of being scared to make sure the noise was the gate, than to lay there for hours and let my brain concoct horrendous scenarios of serial killers and vampires. (That’s what I get for reading Salem’s Lot by Stephen King when I was a teenager).
Plus I was going to rip that gate off the hinges and throat punch a serial killer if either of them woke the kids
See? Totally rational. But the book I’m reading right now, I want to strangle the heroine. She has a stalker threatening her, and calls the police when he leaves a scary message written in blood. But she won’t tell them it’s her deranged brother who just got out of prison doing this. I guess she’s so traumatized that she can’t talk about it? Okay I could understand that if she was mentally battling with herself to tell them. But nope, she tells them everything except that. Then a second police-involved incident happens and she once again refuses to tells the cops about her psychotic brother just released from prison. So she either has a major psychological block…but wait! Right after the cops leave, she confides everything about her sick and twisted brother to her useless college-professor boyfriend whose major quality is the way he wears his sleeves rolled up to show his sexy forearms. Huh, so she can talk about it to a hot guy with his sleeves rolled up.
But not to the cops with guns and the resources to actually protect her.
The only reason this book hasn’t turned into a wall banger is that it’s on my Kindle, and I really like my Kindle. I’m going to give this book one more chapter to start making sense. If the boyfriend turns out to be the support she needs to get her butt to the cop shop and clue them in no matter how painful, or at least freaking try to, then I’ll reconsider. But if she tells the boyfriend not to tell, or something equally silly without a clear reason (like her brother always told her he’d kill her parents if she told), then I’ll mentally throw the book against the wall.
That’s my version of a too stupid to live heroine. What’s yours?