So i'm sitting here on the 15th day of October, feeling the year draw to a close around me. The passage of time affords us all perspective in one way or another. We all get wrapped up in our own lives and are subsequently caught up in the blur that follows. Its only natural to look back and ask "where has the year gone?" For me it was, where have the last few years gone?
When I first finished the second draft of <span style="text-decoration: underline;">Within</span> I impatiently pushed through towards publishing, although in reality my book was still light-years away from that phase of its life. Countless published authors have said it, editors and agents preach it, "you can never go through your book too many times." That idea to the budding author is like lemon juice in a paper cut. I had the mentality of a five year old in the candy isle at the supermarket, "I want it now!" Thankfully, time broke me from that mentality and afforded me enough distance to appreciate what a truly unique experience writing a novel is.
From the very first step to the very last I have been learning. As cliche as it sounds it truly is a journey. I never fathomed how much of my life such a project would consume. From early writing, to late writing and through to editing, more editing, rewriting and more editing, I would hazard to guess that my hours involved are staggering. I wouldn't ask for any of them back though, because the results I am seeing now are more than worth the time. There really isn't any better feeling than talking to a reader and discussing the things about my book they genuinely enjoyed. Despite my paranoia at first, I told myself that they were just telling me what I wanted to hear. After all, I am my own biggest critic and someone couldn't possible enjoy my writing. But with each wave of readers my book got cleaner and cleaner. The big problems had snagged in the nets, and the smaller ones were slipping through less and less.
I enjoy hearing people talk about their favorite characters. My story has a scattering of them, all with their own flaws, appeal and dilemmas so I was happy to hear so many of them had won places in reader's hearts. As far as my protagonists go, I would like to think that each one has more than a sliver of me in them. Some more than others, and I think that is one of the wonderful aspects of writing. My view of my characters will always be an intimate one, just as so many readers are with the books they come to love. But what I learned about writing the story is how much stronger the affinity with my characters became.
I created a side character early on. They were a purpose driven character and eventually, through the natural arc of the story they were going to die. Their death had meaning. It would sculpt and help mold one of my main characters into the hero he needed to become. But as I dug deeper into the story I became quite fond of this particular character, and as I approached the appointed end of their journey I felt apprehension. The character wasn't just a red shirt to me, fodder so easily thrown away for quick advancement of the story, or a fever-pitch death scene. I saw a story going forward, a life, that within the confines of my story was just as compelling, or perhaps even more so than any I had dreamed up originally. Just as in real life, my characters had done their song and dance, no less than the rest of us when we put on our freshest face and interview for a job. I believe that a book is only as strong as its weakest character. Do you feel the same? Also, is it a bad thing if a supporting character becomes one of your favorite within the story? Just a few interesting questions to close with. Once again thanks for reading.
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