It seems I can now perhaps add my comic back to the list of writing projects. Years ago I did a webcomic that made it a year before crashing and burning. Someone has camped our website (curse you!). But my artist has decided that she can indeed fit comic back into her life despite a full plate of law-school and hunting down Harry Dresden for lunch. (To have lunch with, not eat. Important distinction. And yes, we both know he’s fictional. Geez). Past Dark will live again. Although perhaps not in web form. We, and by that I mean me, have a crazy plan to finish the thing into a nice 200 or so page graphic novel or three and try for publication. Her art is awesome, the story is beautifully improbably and steeped in mythology, and we share a brain cell.
This project will be separate from my novel project, but it’s still writing related, therefore, it gets mention. I may even post a few preview panels once we have some art going again. I’ve got to dig out my notebooks and re-acquaint myself with the characters and plan I had for the plot(s). I think it will also require doing a side story for a character I really liked, but that doesn’t have a place in the main story anymore.
Which segues nicely into my issues with stories sometimes. It’s funny how once I’m in the middle of something I realize that I’m more interested in a side character than the main ones. Like in my first novel, for example. One of the main characters and definitely the most developed of my flat sad peoples was a bit character I’d considered killing early on. But then a love story started to happen with chemistry between him and a main character. And then it ended up that he had two small children. I didn’t have the heart to off him. Also, he’s kind of funny in a stereotypical sarcastic manly way. I like him enough that I’ve considered trying to rewrite the novel from first person with his point of view, even though the structure I have for it won’t work at all without the omniscient perspective. It’d be a good exercise, however. I’m beginning to forgive authors like Robin McKinley for being so damn slow with writing novels. (Envy me, I have the reading copy of her latest because having a mother who works in a bookstore is superhandy.)
Sorry, tired. My point though, I think, is that characters always seem to rule my stories. And not the ones I necessarily think will do so. I have another story I’ve been working on for years, which began as being about a woman and is now looking like it’s going to be more about her husband. Or my new novel, which I had thought was mainly going to be about the twins, but will likely mostly involve the girl’s quest.
But this is my writing process. Disjointed. An investigation into my own headmeat more than a guided journey. Perhaps when I’m 50 I’ll have some sort of set way of creating. But I hope I won’t. Even if it means trashing a story and starting over. Even if it means trashing hundreds of pages and diving into a voice cries out over the others, “follow me. I’m the tale.”
Also, to be fair, Hex is the only character who doesn’t die or fall unconscious at any point in the novel. So he’s sort of the natural choice there. Or something. I just wrote my way into a whole huge project, didn’t I? I need to learn to sleep more. Seriously.
(Spell check hates superhandy and headmeat. I’m going to single-handedly bring kennings back into style. You’ll see.)