A Farewell to My Characters

By: Natalia Brothers

My publisher just sent me a photo of my ARCs. I no longer must call what I have written “a story,” “a manuscript,” “a novel”—the words I used in my queries and pitches. Now I can call it a book. But there’s something else in the fusion of delight and excitement I bask in as I await an announcement of the release date. The sentiment is bitter-sweet, reminiscent to a stroll through a garden on a bright September day. Chrysanthemums are blooming, the dew sparkles on the grass plumes after the night’s storm, and every leaf and berry looks beautiful and vibrant; but the scent of autumn fills the air and you know the summer is over.

So, what causes all this brooding when I’m only weeks away from fulfilling my ambition and getting published?

It took many drafts before the manuscript turned into the story I envisioned, the tale I aspired to tell. The cast—the characters—resided in my head throughout the process, and I had grown accustomed to thinking of my fictional crew as if they were real people. Her face and smile, his voice and mannerism, the food they liked, the melodies they hummed…Their fears, joys, heartbreaks, victories…I knew more about them than I know about some of my friends.

Every detail popped into my mind whenever I sat down to write a scene. My characters accompanied me on long mountain hikes, my brainstorming time. The heroine awakened me at three in the morning:

“Hey, this is what I’d like to do. Is it very bad?”

Whoa. Would she dare?

She always did.

I was taught that since our characters exist entirely in our imagination, they possess no will of their own, their actions are fully under our control, and they will do whatever we picture them doing. It seems this conception is only partially true. Yes, I had the power to create these personalities. But once I had my cast, all I had to do was devote my creativity to conceiving the wickedest fight-or-flight, sink-or-swim, life-or-death scenarios. Day after day for several years, I let my characters wrangle with the pressures of the unfolding plot, while I chronicled their struggle.

Day after day. For several years.

Then, all of a sudden, it was over. The last line written, the last revision finished. The end.

How happy I was last summer when the contest edits called for changes in a couple of scenes. I could immerse myself in the plot again. Experience the characters’ emotional states. The situation. The setting.

Speaking of the setting…I’ll miss it too. A sequel will take place somewhere else, and it’s still in a world-building stage. The new locale is more of an impression, a fluid vision, a mirage in the process of shaping up into a major element of the story. The cast is a bunch of strangers I’m getting to know. The new heroine tries my patience. I gave the role to a secondary character from the original novel, thinking it would be easier if I at least knew someone in the new crew. But it didn’t help; it’s as if she’s not used to being the focus of my attention and refuses to be as proactive as her predecessor.

Of course, the logical explanation is that I, a hopeless pantser, shouldn’t have tried to plot that sequel. I don’t enjoy writing a story when I know what’s going to happen. I crave my characters’ spontaneous dialogues and actions. I want a heroine who won’t hesitate waking me up in the middle of the night.

So maybe I’ll tear up the sequel’s outline and start from the beginning.

About the Author:  Born in Moscow, Natalia grew up with the romance and magic of Russian fairy tales. She never imagined that one day she’d be swept off her feet by an American Marine. An engineer-physicist-chemist, Natalia realized that the powder metallurgy might not be her true calling when on a moonless summer night she was spooked by cries of a loon in a fog-wrapped meadow. What if, a writer’s unrelenting muse, took hold of her. Two of her passions define her being. Natalia is an orchid expert and she writes dark fantasy.

What is a Writer?

By: Ann S. Hill

I’m guessing most of you are like me. You happened upon a particular book that truly spoke to you, and a seed was planted. From there you began to observe the world through the analytical eyes of an author. For me, this happened in fifth grade. The Diary of Anne Frank.

Perhaps you were brave enough to have answered the call to embark on the journey straight away. Or, like me, you leaned toward the practical and chose an alternate career, not because of your passions, but to pay the bills. Years passed. Eventually the germinating seed sprouted into something resembling Jack’s Bean Stalk, no longer to be ignored.

Finally, you make time to answer the call before the stalk tears through your internal organs and shoots out your ears. The frustrated voice erupts into black letters spilled onto virgin white paper. But, something is missing. Your sentences are correctly constructed. What is wrong?

Fortunately, you discover writers’ resources and search them out. Pike’s Peak Writers is one of those. You begin to frequent critique groups, lectures, and workshops. This is helpful, but also excruciating for your sensitive artist’s ego. Is your work so disappointing that, to save you the trouble, the critics intend to put you out of your misery and suffocate your ambitions? It might be better for you in the long run.

Anyone but a writer would throw in the towel, but your voice won’t be stifled. You brood for a day or two, then swallow your pride and push forward determinedly.

So then what is a writer? In my estimation, he or she is someone who must write. As simple as that. The writer learns that the other resources, though helpful, will not be adequate unless one writes and does so copiously. Writing against all odds and despite multiple discouragements turns out to be the final ingredient in the writer’s development.

Gradually one discovers that a sentence he or she once thought perfect can accomplish more written another way. Each time that sentence is revised, the meaning becomes more precise, better sounding, less wordy. Why hadn’t you stated it that way from the start? Because you are developing your art in the same way that a painter develops his. Like any significant endeavor, repeated efforts prove to be your friend. Your attempts to appease that petulant inner voice ultimately drags you kicking and screaming to your final goal. Or close. In my opinion, we never reach the goal.

The better our writing becomes, the more we notice ways in which it might be improved. In fact, the problem becomes: When does one call a project finished? My friends continually ask me whether my novel is done. Good question. Each time I read the manuscript through, I find ways to improve it.

If you have this desire to carry on, you are becoming an authentic writer. Published or not. You are content doing what you have been called to do. You happily type away several hours a day and continue to present yourself for the painful critiquing process. Occasionally, you receive a merciful word of praise.

Hats off to my fellow writers. I commiserate with your striving and I share your hours of misery and your precious moments of elation.

About the writer:  After hearing the call to write in her thirties, Ann set the ambition aside while life happened. Now that she has retired from her career as a dentist and her children are adults, she is seriously attacking that parked ambition. She spends significant time on her true passion and has recently completed her first novel, Wait for Me. She has written several short stories and is currently working on a concept for her second novel. In the meantime, she remains a voracious reader and film aficionado.