Last night, the kidlets and I were heading out to our local Rita's because the Boy's school was doing a fundraiser and really, who needs an excuse for a Rita's?
Well, the place was a zoo and when we finally left, somehow, the conversation flowed to Windemere, my current WIP. The Girl has already decided she wants to be a writer when she grows up (which I can totally see happening because right now, the stories she writes are hysterically funny, even if they don't always make sense) and I said something about how aggravated I was with Julian and Emma (H/H from Windemere) because they weren't doing what I wanted them to do.
"But, Mom," the Girl said, sounding a little confused, "they're your characters. Don't you make them do what they do?"
Ahh... young padawan, allow me to show you the love/hate relationship a lot of writers have with their characters. Then you will understand.
Yes, they are my creations, but they take on a life of their own through the story. I know the basics about them - what they look like, where they live, what sort of upbringing they had- and that's about it. Their personalities, their quirks, their flaws all come out as the story unravels. And sometimes, where I think the story is going is nowhere near where it actually ends up.
And that's when I want to drop rocks on everyone and kill them--figuratively speaking, of course.
Right now, I want to drop rocks on them. All of them. Because they are going off script again. Gah.Why do they insist on torturing me?
Well, little by little, things start to work out, and usually, I don't have to drop those rocks. But it is tempting at times. And that's when I begin to think I should have gone to medical school instead. :D