Anti-climactic toads

Write, just write.
I tell myself this all the time. But do I? Not really.
It's tragic. I have what I believe is a gift and I don't truly use it. Not like I could.
This is one of those awful days where I sit staring at my laptop screen, wishing I was Charles Dickens and had something fascinating, in-depth, marvelous to share with you.
I saw a toad today. He (...or she--not an expert on frog anatomy here) was frozen to death.
That's all I got. I know, pathetic. You were probably hoping to read about me finding a lost diary of someone who did something interesting way back when. Not today! No, today I saw a dead toad. How anti-climactic of me.
Now that I have failed you most cruelly, my dear reader, perhaps you'd like to find something more interesting to occupy your time. Like FB or Pinterest or something with pictures. And how can I blame you? If only I could compete! I wish I lived back in the 1800s when a simple, comical illustration every 500 pages or so was sufficient to please a reader. Not so today! Ha! Oh, Dickens...how wonderful your world was!
Hold on, my fiance is explaining to me the details of under-gravel aquarium filters.
At least he is still a hands-on explorer in this modern day. It makes me smile. Besides that, I love to learn new things.
I can't wait till we get some fish in that tank. Ahem. "Aquarium." I almost feel sorry for wanting to put a living creature in a completely see-through environment where I control its existence. What a life for the poor fish! But at the same time, I find it fascinating! Except when the fish die. The other fish start eating them and it's just gross.
I think I'm simply addicted to characters. I like the names, the personalities, their plots and plans and stories. The details. Probably why I love the classics so much, too. All the greats wrote magnificent characters! Jane Austen with her bored and mischievous Emma; Anne Bronte's gallant Gilbert; L. M. Montgomery's dreamy, imaginative Anne; Du Maurier's sweet and naive female protagonist without a name; Dickens and his tragic hero Sydney Carton, comical Mr. Pickwick, hypocritical Seth Pecksniff, noble John Harmon and mysterious Lady Dedlock...I could go on and on.
I just hope someday soon my characters will become that legendary. These days characters are less and less interesting. The readers either don't care or can't find anything else to read so they don't demand better writers. It's so frustrating to hear about "literature" that is only widely read because there is an accompanying movie to make it worth reading. *cough Stephanie Meyer cough*
Books should be deep. Characters should be complex. Readers should demand more from their authors. It's about impact. Not making a dollar.
Just the opinion of one very dedicated classic lit nerd. Think what you will.
So even though nothing more dramatic happened today than the death of a toad, I wrote. :)