With these months of May and Mother’s Day, and June and Father’s day, I have turned my thoughts to child-rearing. (Sort of…)
Kids! Whether they are nine or ninety—what are we going to do with them? They sulk in silence. They sneak off to who-knows-where. They speak some kind of kid-gibberish that we struggle to comprehend. They think they can fly…literally. They bring home strange animals and even stranger friends. They want to wear the same pair of shoes every day. They move like cold molasses. They zip by us like streaks of lightning. They embrace us with love. They storm off to their rooms. They never grow up. They grow up way too fast. And…the list goes on.
Of course, I’m not talking about our in-the-flesh progeny, born from our loins or adopted from our hearts—two, four, or multi-legged. (Although some of the above proclamations may relate to them as well, at times!) I am referring to those creations born from our brains, nurtured through our written words, mothered and fathered into existence. Specifically, our main characters. The centers of our literary universes. Our protagonists.
One would think that since these creatures come from within our own minds, we would have more control over them–snort, snicker, guffaw…
Nope. Regardless of how carefully we plan out their lives, these paper people, these keyboard beings carry on as if they have lives of their own.
And I’m here to tell you that for me, that’s the most exciting part! The most rewarding, albeit at times exasperating aspect of writing. Just like flesh and blood children, when we let them have free rein, they can surprise us, enchant us, stretch our imaginations and our expectations. They fairly leap off the page, pulsate from the computer screen.
“Hey!” they yell. “It’s us! And we’re here to lead you down that garden path of possibilities!”
Of course, too much freedom—just like too much chocolate pie (but can there ever really be too much pie??)—can result in negative outcomes. Our characters may run amuck, darting down rabbit holes from which there is no way back out. So, I give them some parameters, safety rules, if you will. In other words—to stretch this metaphorical rubber band a bit further–I may allow my protagonists to race along in the fastest cars on earth, but they wear seat belts and have airbag protection in case of a full-on crash.
How do I manage this? I make sure that I fully understand my characters’ core selves. Of course, they can and should grow and change, allowed to make mistakes, even be less than kind or brave. But…somewhere in the depths of their literary souls, I know what makes them tick. What made them who they are. What frightens them, and why. What inspires them, and how. What lines they will cross, and won’t.
And that, my friends, will guide these impetuous beings along paths of adventure that will delight us and make our stories sing from the page. We can hang onto their coattails and experience new things through them, knowing they will always remain centered in their own realities. Regardless of how strange those realities may be!
