You too shall live!
My muse has woken me with plot bunnies before, but never with an idea for a blog post. Funny how things happen.
Recently, a friend wrote that characters were basically paper and when I read it, I bristled a bit, because, to me, they aren’t just creations of my imagination. Okay, before you call the funny farm, hear me out. I do think of my characters as entities and have never examined closely whether that means I think of them as flesh and bone or simply reflections of those I know in the real world.
I am a very visual person, so for me to think of the people I write about as nothing more than products of my efforts, really wouldn’t fly. I can actually see them as I conduct their lives, hear their voices, smell the sandalwood and lavender. I hear the accents and their laughter. For me, that’s essential, if I’m to create a story that readers will love and invest themselves in.
It’s no secret to anyone that words are powerful. Our mother’s teach us that with the defiant little ditty, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” She told us that words are powerful and to stand up against them. Writing gives authors a power that shouldn’t be squandered, because we have the power to move someone to tears, to anger them, to call them to arms, so to speak. We can make them laugh or cry, we can even change their lives.
It is my love of the written word that made me a reader when I was but a little girl. My mother used to buy me one of those little Golden Books every week when she went grocery shopping (substituted later on for a 45 record.) I couldn’t wait to read it. I passed those same books on to my children, as well as my love of reading. No cereal box was safe in my house!
About seventh grade was when I started writing. My English teacher, Mr. Green, assigned short stories at the drop of a hat and I loved him for it. I remember writing a story about a jungle boy named Gunga. Lost in personal history, I have no idea where the inspiration for it came from, but I was into Tarzan at the time, and his son, Boy.
These days, I create Lords and Ladies, gentlemen and curs. Their sexuality matters not, as love is love in my world. It is the story I’m telling and the characters will be who they are in their hearts. Right now, I’m researching the French and Indian War for a series I want to write about generations of men who fought in this country’s earliest wars. The first book will be about the above mentioned war, the second the Revolutionary War, the third, the War of 1812 and finally, the Civil War. I had ancestors who fought in all of the above wars.
As the family historian, I’ve gathered personal stories of the men who fought, some very interesting, so rather bizarre. Take the one about a wealthy landowner who asked my 5th great-grandfather to marry the guy’s maid, because, oopsie, he happened to get her pregnant and his very influential wife wouldn’t think too kindly of that little slip in decorum. Now who could pass up telling a story like that?
In telling the stories that live in my heart, I bring the characters to life, in my view and I fervently hope, in the view of the reader. I always find a stock photo that best represents the characters as I see them, so I actually have a physical representation of them, rather than simply imagining them. They live in my mind and in my heart, and are very difficult to let go of once I’ve told their story.
At the moment, there are many, warring for attention. Seems they all want their moment and I’m here to give it to them. Never fear, dear ones, you too shall live! Take your place in the queue and simmer down. Much like in real life, I can only write one life at a time.
Till next time, I send you hugs! Stay cool.
Brita
