There comes this point, when I'm writing, where I get to know characters so very well that they become a part of me. I can hear them speaking to me even when I'm not actively writing their story. I begin to think about how they'd react to the circumstances I'm in--how would they deal with this or that, what would they say, that sort of thing.
I don't know if this is particularly healthy. But there comes a point where I simply can't help it. But it begins to hurt just a bit more than it did before when I finish telling their story.
Take, for instance, Joanna and Loki from Caste, the novel I recently finished. It's the classic story: boy meets girl, girl hates boy's guts, boy's people are keeping girl's kind enslaved...you know.
Joanna is a human girl, an erstwhile serf who hates her position. You see, in Djarkat--Jo and Loki's world--the humans are subservient to massive, fire-breathing Dragon shapeshifters. They choose to walk the earth in shapes like those of men...but only so they can take control, so they can beat the humans into the dust. At least, that's how Joanna sees it. And it makes her angry. It makes her very angry.
Loki, in contrast, is one of the Shifters Joanna hates so much. He saves her life, snatching her from an execution they were both going to fall prey to. That doesn't mean she forgives his people their many sins, nor that she particularly cares for him...not for a long while, anyway.
But they got over it, at least in part, and they're still up in my head, clamoring for my attention. And I love it, because it means I can make my characters come alive.
And no, I am not crazy.
Okay, maybe a little bit.By-the-by, if you wanted to read this particular story, I'd love to hear your thoughts. You can read it here.
- Kyla Denae