I’m interested in people. That’s actually why I write. And also why I start conversations with random people in the supermarket. I like to know how people work — why they DO what they do. And yes, I do sometimes use what I learn in my stories. Hopefully, that makes my characters very believable.
And can I just say that technology has made this interest in people so much easier for me. Twitter, Facebook, and Blogs have enabled me to keep updated on people’s personal lives. It’s so awesome how people are gossiping about themselves (hey look, even me). And cellphones have brought those private conversations into public. And just in case you didn’t realize, most people talk very loudly on their phones. So it’s not like I’m TRYING to overhear these private conversations. Oh wait, what? I start to walk behind people who are having a really juicy conversation? Not me… umm… moving on. So just think on this: WE’VE ALL BECOME THAT STEREOTYPICAL NOSY NEIGHBOR FROM THE 60s. And yes, that warrants capitals so anyone who happens to skim this blog will catch that note.
Think back to the those 60s movies that had the stereotypical “nosy neighbor.” (If you really have no idea what I’m referring to, here is an excellent youtube clip — sorry I couldn’t find a clip for just this, but just cue it up to 4.26 — http://tr.im/O5Nq. Elsa Lanchester does a hilarious job in this movie as the stalker neighbor.)
So am I saying I’m a stalker to my neighbors?
Oh please. I’m not even home enough to sleep, let alone peep on the neighbors. I just happen to enjoy when the people near me tweet about something hilarious their six-year-old child said. Or when the girl sitting on the bus next to me just happens to also be breaking up with her boyfriend via a (very loud) cell phone conversation.
So moral of the story: thank you all for living very interesting lives and giving me great stuff to write on. And please, don’t stop!
Chersti Nieveen 
Amen! I loved taking the bus when I was in college just for this reason: you’re stuck with all these people in a confined space, and yet they keep talking, both to each other and to their phones, as though no one else were around. It’s great. I miss the bus.