Stop The Keyboard, I Want To Get Off
Hey You! You're Not Supposed To Exist!
and
How A Guy Named Ashleigh Ruined My Life
So, I think I've talked about how characters can surprise you when you're writing a story, right? Sometimes you're writing along when you suddenly realize that this character wouldn't say that, or would react like this instead of that. It's a result of getting to know your characters and making them real enough to allow them to speak to you.
But what happens when a character you didn't even know existed suddenly pops up in your story? That's exactly what happened to me.
I've been working on another short story called The Story of My Death. Yeah, I know, really cheery, but I promise it's much more upbeat than it sounds.
And there I was writing along, all la-di-dah (that was an impression of me writing awesomely) when whBAM!!! CHARACTER ATTACK!!!!
I kept writing, my fingers not yet having caught up with my mind, and before I knew it, Grayson had a brother. Grayson, by the way, is one of the main characters of The Story of My Death (hereafter known as SoMD, because I'm lazy, and/or can't be bothered).
I finally stopped writing only because I didn't have a name for this brother character. He caught me off guard, I wasn't prepared.
A short conversation with my sister later, in which we discussed old-fashioned boy names which parents who named their son Grayson might like, and we came up with Ashleigh. Ash for short, of course. And the second my sister said it I exclaimed, "YES! Ashleigh is perfect! That is sooo him." And then I vomited. (Not literally.) Because now he has a name, which means he's staying. And the fact that I knew it was his name the moment I heard it means I can't just press the delete button and forget he ever happened.
I still tried, though. I tried to continue writing as though he didn't exist. I told myself he added nothing to the story, he was just a distraction, the focus ought to be on Anika and Grayson...
But Ashleigh? Ashleigh fights dirty. Do you know what he did? He JUSTIFIED HIS EXISTENCE. DAMN HIM. Not only that, but he added a whole new dimension to the story, and now there is no way this will ever be a short story. At best it will be a novella. At worst, it will be just another full-blown novel that I never finish. I thought I already fixed that problem. See, originally, this idea was a full-blown novel, but I rethought it into short story form. CURSE MY BRAIN AND IT'S LOVE OF LONG, COMPLICATED PLOTS!
I'd scrap the whole thing, but I really love some of the writing I've done on it. Which is also why I'm going to share today. Just a snippet.
Before I do, let me just mention that other "life" stuff has happened, about which I was going to write, but every time I sat down to write about it, I just sat there feeling blocked. So I'm not going to write about it. I really want a break from, you know, thinking. Hence this very silly, ranty post.
Okay, here is the promised blurb:
"What is your dream?" Grayson asked.
I sighed deeply. "To live forever."
He cocked his head at me like a bird. "Why?" he asked. He didn't call me silly, or laugh it off as a joke. He simply asked 'why'.
"Because that's how long it takes to learn the secrets of the universe."
"What about the secrets which death holds? You can't learn them by living forever."
"And who says death holds secrets," I retorted. "Perhaps all it holds is death."
He grimaced; a spasm of fear. "Yeah," he said quietly, and then we were silent again. I was too lost in my own thoughts to spare much for him. I had made myself depressed again thinking of my imminent demise. The more I spoke to him, the more certain I was of my choice, and with that certainty came the realization that, yes, I am going to die, and it will be entirely of my own doing.
I resented him suddenly; resented the years he had before him, stretched out like a great winding road which disappeared over the horizon into the unknown. What would he witness in his lifetime? An end to war and hunger? An utopian society dedicated to self-improvement? Or a dystopia, hell-bent on consuming itself with its own greed until nothing is left but dust and char. Or perhaps a new world altogether? He might join a group of colonists bound for a distant planet, pioneers of the kind that had once conquered the New World. Would that conquest be as bloody as the previous ones?
"I'm not sure I'd like to live forever," he said suddenly, cutting into my thoughts. "It seems...lonely."
"Yes," I replied absently, "it is."
