I’ve been feeling the loneliness that comes with the realization that not only do others not see the world the same way as I, but that nobody sees it the same way at all. Not a one. Not even the people who vote the same. Not even the people who like the same movies, books, and dances. Not the dearest of friends.
Today at The Blood-Red Pencil, I share my recent experience baring my soul before a Los Angeles audience without a book, notes, or any written material in hand. I thought author readings were nerve-wracking, but those are nothing compared to a StorySlam and Stage Fright.
How do fiction authors create believable bad guys? I find I must explore the existence of my own inner villain. Today at The Blood-Red Pencil, I explore this confronting approach to writing antagonists, with a post called I’m The Bad Guy?
It happens to writers sometimes, but I never thought it would happen to me. No matter how much we love them, no matter how hard they work for us, no matter how sure we are that they cannot be replaced: sometimes we have to fire our protagonists. Today at The Blood-Red Pencil I consider why I had to fire my historical novel’s first protagonist, and how I discovered whether my new protagonist was up to the job.
Fiction writers, who is the boss of what happens in your stories: you, the characters, or some other mysterious force? That’s the question I ponder today in my post at The Blood Red Pencil, Who’s Telling This Story Anyway?