There's a strange side-effect of reading this book. You see, in every other chapter, Liz is describing some friend or family member of hers, being, as she is, the consumate people person. And if you, like me, are somewhat dramatically self-aware ALL THE TIME (constantly seeing your own actions as through the eye of a camera), you may (as I do) find yourself describing, er, yourself, in Liz-voice.
"Erin, who likes to re-read my novel quite a lot, is a quiet, intense girl with a great big cloud of dark hair and a tendency to psychoanalyze, or just analyze, everything around her." See, the great thing is, she's incredibly forgiving and complimentary about everyone she describes, so when you're talking about yourself in Liz-voice, you can say really nice things. And Liz frequently discusses depression and such: "Erin knows a lot about depression, and likes to wryly compare suicidal depression to hemorrhoids. The description is apt because..." Liz would totally give me credit for being right even when I wasn't, and then would go on and complete my observations for me in a way that would make even better sense.
I only just realized that I was doing this. It's sort of a fun thing to do, and I've firmly decided not to think of it as insanely narcissistic. (Quirky, self-obsessive fun, maybe...)
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toqueville just described me as having an "avalanche of hair" which is so much more incredibly accurate, in terms of my hair, than "cloud", that I promptly had to blog the awesomeness. Hair avalanche! I haz one!