Writing on the novel continues, albeit slowly. In the middle of Scene 3, now.
In talking to my wife about my struggle, I mentioned that it felt like I’ve broken through a barrier, and that both my interest and enthusiasm had increased, to which she responded with a question: why is that?
I honestly hadn’t thought about why—I was just glad it was—but it engendered an interesting discussion.
Last week, I posted about how in this character-driven novel, I must engage in a lot more forethought. As I explained, writing about how a character reacts to action is a lot easier than writing about their motivation before that action is undertaken. That reality hasn’t changed, certainly not in the last week or so.
What has changed, though, is that I’m finally getting a handle on who my characters are.
This is a critical point, for me.
I’ve built and rebuilt my characters’ backstories close to a dozen times. I’ve changed family structure, occupations, names (lots and lots of names), affiliations, history, and well, damned near everything except their gender. I’ve also worked and reworked my outline, refining it, bringing in subplots, dropping subplots, chucking extraneous secondary characters, tightening it all up.
So, when I started writing, I had a pretty good handle on where my main characters had been and where they were headed.
All set, right?
Wrong.
Progress on my book has been slow—not stopped, just slow—but I choose to view this as a good thing.
Bad diarist! No biscuit!
I’d heard of them long before I saw one in the wild. Rare, elusive, they were things of power and legend. Sure, I saw them in movies, but I knew those were fakes; we all did.
Two weeks ago, I tried an experiment.
Kurt R.A. Giambastiani 