Something strange happens when you publish a book.

For years, the characters belong almost entirely to you. You know which parts of them you love. You know which flaws you hope readers will forgive. You know the little things you slipped onto the page that you secretly hope someone notices.

And then you hand them over to readers.

And apparently, you all have opinions.

I’ve been reading the early reviews of The Stargazer, and one of the most wonderful—and occasionally hilarious—parts of this whole experience has been discovering what people notice.

For example:

You really, really like Wren.

I hoped you would.

But what has surprised me is why so many of you like her. It isn’t because she suddenly discovers she’s secretly the greatest swordswoman in the kingdom.

She is not.

In fact, it's probably best not to give that woman a sword.

It’s because she’s smart. And sarcastic. And curious. And sometimes brave.

She’s also clumsy, naive, emotional, occasionally ridiculous, and capable of making a decision that makes perfect sense inside her own head while everyone around her is presumably wondering how she has survived this long.  But again and again, readers have mentioned that her “brain is her weapon”. That one makes me smile.

Because when I started writing Wren, I wanted a heroine whose strength didn’t come from becoming physically tougher than everyone around her. Her knowledge matters. Her curiosity matters. The things she has spent years learning matter.

She doesn’t have to become Griffon to survive.

She has to become more fully Wren.

And then there’s Griffon.

I knew people would be curious about him. I did not anticipate quite how many of you would collectively decide that this angry, deeply suspicious former assassin “needs a hug”.

Whether he would accept said hug remains debatable.

Readers have called him mysterious, jaded, protective, dangerous, morally gray, soft-hearted, and tormented. And several of you seem mildly concerned about what else he’s hiding.

As you should be.

What has made me happiest, though, is how many people have commented on the way Wren and Griffon fit together.

She thinks.

He fights.

She questions everything.

He would deeply prefer that she stop.

She knows an alarming number of things about astronomy, mathematics, history, and science. He knows an alarming number of ways to kill someone. Together, they are surprisingly functional. Eventually.

I’ve also learned that quite a few of you approve of a slow burn that is actually allowed to be…slow. Thank goodness. Because these two have some things to work through. 

But underneath all the funny comments, the quotes people have highlighted, and the increasingly suspicious discussions about Griffon, there’s something about reading these reviews that I wasn’t prepared for.

These characters aren’t only mine anymore.

Someone I've never met understands why Wren wants so desperately to be useful. Someone else sees past Griffon’s anger. Someone laughed at a line I laughed at while writing it. Someone cared enough about these imaginary people to wonder what happens to them after the final page.

That is an extraordinarily strange and wonderful thing.

So if you’ve read The Stargazer already—thank you for letting Wren, Griffon, and the rest of this slightly dysfunctional group live in your head for a while. And if you ever feel inclined to tell me which character you unexpectedly became attached to, I would genuinely love to know.

Although if the answer is Griffon, apparently you have quite a lot of company.

—Evren