Behind the Scenes of the Rymellan Series: The Character That Wouldn’t Go Away

If you’ve read the Rymellan series, you’ll recognize the name Ann Hawkins. In a Rymellan story called Misinterpretation, Mo almost withdraws from the evaluation process for the pilot training program because a fellow cadet harasses her and sucks away her confidence. Ann is that nasty cadet.

I remember the moment when Ann came into existence. I was writing on my laptop in bed (something I haven’t done in a while now). I reached the point in the first scene when Mo and David are about to run into Ann at the mess hall, except I didn’t know her as Ann. I thought of her as “the bitch who harasses Mo.”

Here’s the part of the scene where Ann appears for the first time in the series:

David pulled open the mess hall door and almost bumped into a fellow cadet. “Oh, hi,” he said as Ann passed through the doorway.

Ann grinned at him. “Just dragged yourself out of bed?”

“No, I’ve been up since 06:30,” he said, letting go of the door.

“Why?”

“Had simulator time booked at 07:00. We’ve just come from there.”

Ann seemed to notice Mo for the first time. “Both of you?”

David nodded.

“I can understand why you’d want to use the simulator, but why would you?” she asked, frowning at Mo.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Mo replied.

“Don’t tell me you’re trying out for the fighter pilot program.”

“Um, yeah, I am,” Mo said, irritated. She and Ann weren’t friends, but her aspiration to become a fighter pilot was hardly a secret. Surely Ann had heard about her plans from someone—what they hoped to do in their third year had been the main topic of conversation among cadets over the past month.

Ann looked down at her. ‘No offence, but are you sure you’re not too short?”

Blood rushed to Mo’s cheeks.

“There’s no height requirement,” David snapped.

“Well, not officially, but there’s a glut of applicants this year, so they can afford to be choosy.”

“That doesn’t mean they’ll reject applicants based on their height,” Mo said.

“There’s that little thing called an evaluation that’ll determine who makes it in and who doesn’t,” David added.

“Well, you’d better hope you ace every single part of the evaluation,” Ann said to Mo. “And even if you do, if it comes down to you and someone . . . bigger, anyone with a smidgen of common sense knows who they’ll pick.” She smiled tightly. “I’d hate to see you waste your time, so take some friendly advice and go after something a little more suitable for you, okay?”

As you can see, the mind games are already starting.

When I needed a name for the nasty character, I pulled Ann out of thin air without much thought, because I expected her to be a one-story wonder.

I don’t outline, but I usually have an inkling of what’s coming up. When I was approaching the end of Misinterpretation, I was already seeing scenes with Mo and Ann flying together in the simulator (those scenes appeared in the story Intervention). I thought, “Interesting, Ann’s sticking around,” and I could see the potential for conflict between Ann and the other characters in the series, especially Mo.

I also had a decision to make regarding Ann: would she make it into the elite pilot training program? Readers probably hoped that she’d get what she deserved and be rejected, but that’s part of the reason I decided to put her through. Life isn’t fair. I didn’t want Misinterpretation to come across as an after-school special with the message, “Now, now, children, see what happens when you’re mean to someone.” More often than not, nothing happens.

If you’ve read the series, you’ll know that Ann is a regular character, and over the course of the series she’s become more three-dimensional. She’s the sort of character that will almost have you rooting for her, but then she’ll say or do something that makes you want to punch her. That makes her interesting for me to write, and I hope she’s an interesting character for readers.

Here’s to Lieutenant Ann Hawkins, the one-story wonder who didn’t go away.