Requiem

Last night I killed a character. I’m not talking about a nameless pod that appears only to end. This person was a structured and thorough creation with a backstory and a stake in the narrative that existed for twelve chapters. She had a family, dreams, and aspirations. Perhaps she would have lived to old age if she had kept her head down and didn’t get involved in my main character’s tale. But, unfortunately for her, she fell into a story of another and paid for it with her life.

The choice to murder is irreversible. Even if unsuccessful, the decision to kill will change lives forever. It is what I like to call a hard split in the path. I’ve grown to believe that reality is just a collection of choices, and so too, is writing a novel. Unfortunately for us, the choices in our own narratives are often finite. Luckily in writing, you have a grace period before you move too far and waste a lot of time. I’ve grown increasingly interested in a weave analogy that appears often in my current WIP, Koen, and throughout my greater Absolution of the Morning Star series. It forms the basis of my Nyth Cigfran witches’ magic. When writing, if you don’t like the pattern, you can rip it all out and start afresh as long as you don’t get too far along and risk ruining the entire rug. True, it makes the decisions lower in stake, but they are still hard as they can send you down paths you may not recover from, like suddenly discovering you have a scarf rather than a sock. At first, I wasn’t sure if I should do this murder, and my weave continued past the possible execution spot for almost an entire chapter, but the stitch grew crooked, and my attention kept drifting back to that spot and its difficult decision.

I’m no novice to murder. I’ve killed hundreds of my creations, but as much as we authors joke about being murderers, it is often not an easy decision. After spending the time to piece together a puzzle, smashing it apart takes bravery. I don’t know many artisans that go through all the trouble building something only to destroy it. Yes, sometimes I craft a character solely to be killed, but the reader often sees it coming when you create for that purpose—the best character deaths are those that surprise and jolt you as the writer. If they impact you, they’ll move the reader. And, sometimes, as with this case, the character runs out of usefulness- the room gets too crowded, the person gets in the way, or their death is required to give other characters a push. So, last night after our walk, I poured myself a glass of wine (for liquid bravery), sat at my computer, and said to my wife, “This character needs to die.”

I’m not a complete psycho. The main characters in my stories are usually safe- it is their story, and ultimately, ends when they do (that isn’t to say they won’t suffer). But I do want my readers to fear that all other characters can go at any minute. Yes, this offers suspense, but more importantly, it provides authenticity to the story. In our minds, we are all the main characters in our lives. When we end, our story ends. All those around us, as much as we may love and cherish them, can go at any moment. I suppose it gives life meaning. If these others should go slowly, we suffer slowly, and that pain has a place, but when they go suddenly, that impact is felt most. So too, in writing. If I want this story to end, I need a jolt in its course. I require something that cleaves relationships and shows true colors. What better way to do that than the reaper swipe of death?

I will mourn this character as I have mourned many. I will use that pain to bring truth to the story and elicit real feelings from my readers. Death is just one of many spices in life. It is a bitter, acidic, and not particularly pleasant spice, but all tales require it to bring balance. So, this character is dead, but her passing will not be in vain. It holds purpose as with all passings. Others will change because of her demise. Some will value their life more, and others less. Some will find meaning and purpose, and others will see the futility of it all. I still don’t know where this choice will take me, but now that I’ve made it, I know it was right, and I thank her for her sacrifice.

Cheers!