So I wrote this story and something weird happened. I want to tell you, but I’m afraid I’ll be putting out a bunch of spoilers. So if your curious as to what I’m on about, read the story first. It’s called Tied Up, and it’s in the horror section. Or just click here, anywhere on this sentence. Nice and convenient, right? All you have to do is click on that sentence. Or on the title above. Or here. See, I’m giving you ample opportunity to read the story first, rather than it be ruined by all of these spoilers.
This paragraph is a buffer between shifty eyes and the spoilers. See what I did there? All I’m going to do here is create the longest run-on sentence ever seen, with useless words, maybe some trivia, well, no trivia, but it will continue in this vein for quite a while, possibly causing you fits as you wonder how long must it go on, or “I can hear my hair grow”, or whatever it is that makes you the raving lunatic that I’m turning you into for not getting to the point in a meaningful, content-ladened manner. Or you could just skip this paragraph and read the story.
Anyway, if you don’t care either way, we can get right to the spoilers.
So I came up with this idea a while ago, probably because of something I saw on TV (spoiler). It slowly grew inside my head until I could do it some kind of justice. I have to admit, becoming a writer has made me more critical of my work. I still don’t know if I got that one right. I had to get it out there though because I need to be more timely with my stories. It’s kinda’ important.
So I’m writing it down, feeling it out, working on my back-stories, imagining characters, having a good time. Then the magic moment comes, the defining moment. I kill off my main character (another spoiler).
No one has ever prepared me for that. You hear all the advice and wisdom writers give you, but none of them tell you about the deep, deep feelings you would have when you kill off a main character! I invested so much into him (kind of a spoiler). And it’s not like I didn’t see it coming. I grew it from a tiny little seed into what it is today. I knew the fate of the family (big spoiler), I knew where they were headed and how they would feel. But then I actually write his demise out, and now…
When I was done I had to go somewhere quiet. I’m going to miss him. His death made me sad and morose. I wanted to save him, but knew that that couldn’t be. I went outside, took a walk, stretched. Came back inside, moped. That really hurt! I wanted a hug, and someone to tell me that it’s ok, it’ll get better. Perhaps I’m being silly, but his death hit me a bit hard.
I guess it’s like if you have a child and know his time on this earth is limited, so you do your best and make sure the rest of his life is fantastic, pushing the end out of your mind and his. Then it happens. You’re prepared for it, but nothing compares to actually experiencing it. Now of course this is a metaphorical child that never existed, so I’m not sure how seriously or how far I should take this analogy. Let’s just say that I felt a loss when it happened, when I wrote him out of existence. (One moment while I choke back a few tears.)
Perhaps this little episode is a learning experience. There are places one’s imagination will go, whether you like it or not. One must prepare for life, death, love, hate, fear, shame, bravado, courage, sleaze, manners, ennui, laughter, tears, and many other emotions, more than can be listed here. These episodes into another world and another life come with their own rules and circumstance. I have to get used to being in the middle of it all. Perhaps grow a tougher skin.
I wrote another story called The Illusion that I think I’m going to re-visit. I want to get a better grip on her emotional state. I think I got it right the first time, but now I feel it could use some work. Or maybe I should jut leave good enough alone. I don’t know, I’ll see how I feel. Thanks for reading this, I know it couldn’t have been easy, listening to another man’s self-pity.
I will continue writing, but I think I’m going to be a bit more careful of my characters.
Arid Testimony 