Afraid to change your characters? Don’t be.
Sometimes we put so much effort and heart into a story or character that it can be scary when you realize something just is not working right. You know you need to make a change, but you are reluctant to do so.
Case in point:
I’m in the midst of editing book two in The Children of the White Lions series.
It’s been a long time coming with the various detours I’ve made in the past six months. I wrote thirteen short story prequels—effectively another book as the word total is close to 150k—and I went back and rehashed Progeny. But now, I’m in deep into book two and will admit that I am already thinking about book three. I just might have also written a scene from the final book.
Maybe.
Regarding book two, I really like the story in it, the reveals, the different paths taken by characters, the choices made, the places visited. While it is a continuation of the larger tale, it is a very different book. Progeny was an almost self-contained tale where we follow Nikalys, Kenders, and Jak as they discover who and what they are, all the while the gloom of what is to come hovers in the shadows of the main story. In book two, the world opens up. The challenges faced, both personal and physical, expand.
However, as I was editing, something nagged me about the book, something I could not put my finger on. I was about 70% of the way through my second-to-last pass when one of my beta readers sent me an email about some of the recent chapters he had just finished. Within his feedback, 90% of which was positive, was a snippet that fully illuminated the problem with book two.
Here it is, (names redacted as not to give anything away):
He was exactly right. I’m not entirely sure how, when, or where it happened, but I had effectively written the same character into existence twice. And the scenes with him (SPOILER, IT’S A MALE!) dragged because of it.
He needed a makeover, yet I was somewhat reluctant to do so. Yet, it was necessary.
I halted my chapter-by-chapter editing, went back to the very beginning, and started to rework the character from chapter 1. I knew what I wanted—needed—him to be now and the journey he needed to take. I rewrote every scene he was in, which is quite a few.
Something pretty nifty happened during this process: His POV chapters were suddenly a blast to write. 8 – 10 new ‘good’ lines are in the book because of this change.
I sent the chapters with the new version of the character back to my reader and got this back:
He was right.
Change is good.
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Case in point:
I’m in the midst of editing book two in The Children of the White Lions series.
It’s been a long time coming with the various detours I’ve made in the past six months. I wrote thirteen short story prequels—effectively another book as the word total is close to 150k—and I went back and rehashed Progeny. But now, I’m in deep into book two and will admit that I am already thinking about book three. I just might have also written a scene from the final book.
Maybe.
Regarding book two, I really like the story in it, the reveals, the different paths taken by characters, the choices made, the places visited. While it is a continuation of the larger tale, it is a very different book. Progeny was an almost self-contained tale where we follow Nikalys, Kenders, and Jak as they discover who and what they are, all the while the gloom of what is to come hovers in the shadows of the main story. In book two, the world opens up. The challenges faced, both personal and physical, expand.
However, as I was editing, something nagged me about the book, something I could not put my finger on. I was about 70% of the way through my second-to-last pass when one of my beta readers sent me an email about some of the recent chapters he had just finished. Within his feedback, 90% of which was positive, was a snippet that fully illuminated the problem with book two.
Here it is, (names redacted as not to give anything away):
"[New Character in book two] feels very similar to [Character from book one]."
He was exactly right. I’m not entirely sure how, when, or where it happened, but I had effectively written the same character into existence twice. And the scenes with him (SPOILER, IT’S A MALE!) dragged because of it.
He needed a makeover, yet I was somewhat reluctant to do so. Yet, it was necessary.
I halted my chapter-by-chapter editing, went back to the very beginning, and started to rework the character from chapter 1. I knew what I wanted—needed—him to be now and the journey he needed to take. I rewrote every scene he was in, which is quite a few.
Something pretty nifty happened during this process: His POV chapters were suddenly a blast to write. 8 – 10 new ‘good’ lines are in the book because of this change.
I sent the chapters with the new version of the character back to my reader and got this back:
“I really like him now. There is certainly no chance of him being confused with [Character from book one] now. It is amazing how much the small change helps the story.”
He was right.
Change is good.
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