In writing as in life, character development takes time. It's a journey of discovery, not a one-time, one page description. And it doesn't happen in a vacuum (or a chapter), but rather by meeting and beating challenges as the story unfolds.
If nothing "interesting" ever happens, nothing is learned or gained.
Sometimes events that shape a character are unexpected - even to the author. They pop up out of nowhere, and somehow, sense has to be made of them in context of the larger story. It's not necessarily what the "event" is, but what the author does with it that matters. What might work for one scene, might divert the tale away from it's intended outcome. That can complicate the plot, especially if the goal is a neat, happy ending.
Writers love conflict. Thankfully, in writing, I can choose to edit things out. But in life, it's all about the resolution.
It's quiet this morning. The occupants of the house lie wrapped in in slumber, warm blankets tucked to ward off the morning chill, all save one. I sit this morning before this luminous screen watching words march obediently into formation as the sun rises. The scene outside competes for my attention, glorious yet serene, dark sky growing lighter. It is what I wish for my rambling thoughts.
Have you ever tried to capture a perfect sunset, to hold on to it, make it last before morning steals it away? I am no photographer. I have neither the talent or equipment. All I can do is appreciate the beauty while it lasts. So, I try this morning to just love the sunrise, even as it changes, bleeding into the overcast ceiling that will
surely shroud the sunlight all day... lest the right wind blow.
I think of my children, upstairs sleeping. And then I work on.
Sometimes, all you have to do to be inspired is look out your window. You may not see beyond the glass, but it could be the beauty is already inside.
Ever been in a house where a newborn is napping, and, if she's lucky, the new mother is too? There is a hush in the air, a stillness, long moments muffled in a drowsy blanket of quietude. Today, though there is no newborn here, the house feels much the same. A blanket of new snow outside, warm fire in, dog snoring quietly at my feet - I can feel peace settling in to my soul - and instead of letting it lull me to sleep, I will let it carry me to that still place where calm thoughts flow, and words become pictures...
Here it is almost 5:00 p.m., and I'm wicked tired. After a day of more physical work than I'm used to, on the heels of an emotional weekend and day of nervous inactivity in the day-surgery waiting room, topped off by intense longing to be with mourning family members halfway across the country, I barely have energy left for making dinner, let alone for writing. Yet here I sit at the computer keyboard - not doing much, but doing something. Because I choose to. Because I'm making it happen.
And anyhow, I like leftovers.
This is gonna be totally off the cuff, no editing or fixing typos along hte way. Maybe it will surprise you that I'm so discombobulated in my thoughts (if youcare one whit!) or maybe not. I have been having a really ahrd time focusing what with a recent tragedy in the family. Stuff like this happens -------- to all of us, all the time. That's what life is - stuff happening. Sometime it gets in the way of what we are trying to do, how we are trying to live, whatever. But it's actually all part of it. THis probably isn't making much sence - I said it was rambling - but the point I'm trying to make is that you just need to keep plugging awawy at it. Misstakes are gonna happen. things are gonna seem confused and jumbled. Make sence of it later. For now, just let it flow. That goes for tears too.