So which character of mine is my favorite? Well, that's like asking which of your children is your favorite. Easy for me to answer, I only have one daughter. But my books...my characters...how to choose?
Well, they always say your first child is your favorite (at least that's what I tell my younger sister), so one contender would be Leon Sanders, from my first book Playing With Matches.
Leon is very obviously an author avatar. He's 100% based on myself in high school: smart, funny, and terrified of girls. He could make a claim as to my favorite character.
Then, of course, there's Ana, from The Improbable Theory of Ana and Zak.
I have real trouble writing female POV characters. In fact, to date, she's the only female point of view character in any of my published books. So she'll definitely always have a place in my heart.
But there is only one favorite:
This is my most popular book, but also my most controversial. Some readers said that I absolutely captured the transgender experience. A few even told me the book gave them the courage to start living as their authentic self.
But others hated it, saying I completely blew it, the book got major facts wrong, that the ending was unnecessarily depressing, and that my author photo was pompous. One guy wrote me from Luxembourg to tell me my book sucked.
But no one ever disliked Sage, the transgender girl and love interest of Almost Perfect. Some people loathed Logan, the narrator, but no one ever said anything negative about Sage. People would rage on her behalf, asking how I could be so cruel to someone so special, and how she didn't deserve a jerk like Logan.
And when readers bond with your character, even when they hated the book, you know you've done your job.
Hats off to you, Sage Hendricks. I'll never write another like you. You're my favorite.
Though that mental patient guy in Everyone Dies in the End is a close second.
♥ YA Novelists Pushing the Boundaries of the Genre and Writing from the Heart ♥
Saturday, August 31, 2019
Friday, August 30, 2019
Revisiting an Old Favorite - Playing Hurt (Holly Schindler)
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Re-reading and revising. From my Instagram: @hollyschindler |
Playing Hurt,
my second YA, released in ’11. Which seems like yesterday and a lifetime ago.
I think when
any writer looks back on previous work, there’s always a mixture of pride and
the desire to get back in there and rework certain portions. I’m absolutely no different.
But that
usual wish (If only I had that to do all over again) isn’t so out of
reach anymore. Books are in no way carved in stone. When rights revert, an
author has every ability to get in there and rework a manuscript. Tackle the
finer points raised by reviewers and bloggers. Hit plot holes that you can see
now, with more writing experience under your belt. Even update a book to make
it fit modern attitudes and outlooks.
Which is
where I find myself now. With the rights back in my hands, I’m able to give
Playing Hurt—and the characters, including my old friend Chelsea—a second life. Do some of that updating (never
would I have imagined, back in ’11, the kind of social upheaval that’s taken
place in the last couple of years).
But it’s
certainly a fine line—you want to refine the manuscript, but you don’t want to
alienate the old readers, especially if you’re planning to accompany the
re-release of an old book with a brand-new sequel. How far is too far?
As I work on
my own old release, I think about books like Blume’s Forever—what would
it look like if it were updated to take place in 2019? It’s not just the
fashion that changes. It’s not just that characters stop toting around vinyl
records and keep phones in their pockets. The way we interact is different. Our
roles change, along with our expectations of each other.
What about
hopes? Dreams? Do they change too? How much of a character’s own thoughts or
visions of self are shaped by the times in which they live?
At some
point, you almost have to ask yourself when a book stops being an updated,
revised version, and when it starts being a new book entirely.
Have you
ever read an updated version of a book you previously loved? Was it jarring? A
welcome change? Did you think the author really had improved, or gone too far?
Wednesday, August 28, 2019
Playing Favorites--Getting Beyond Spinning by Dean Gloster
If you’d asked me a year ago about my favorite of the characters I’ve written, I’d have said it was 16-year-old Kat Monroe, the funny, hurting
narrator and protagonist of my debut YA DESSERT FIRST. She’s what is known in
literature as a naïve narrator—she’s achingly honest and definitely opinionated.
She never lies to readers, but she’s sometimes desperately wrong. We readers sometimes
see more in her descriptions that she sees herself, as she gets in her own way.
Kat was incredibly fun to write, because—especially when things
were toughest—she was funny.
And all her striking out—well, that was Kat hiding how
afraid she was. Afraid her younger brother would die of his cancer relapse,
afraid her bone marrow transplant wouldn’t save him, afraid her broken
friendships would never heal. Afraid of the size of her own fear, so she couldn’t
sit with it, and instead repackaged it as anger and humor she shoved out into
the world. By the end, though, she figured some of that out. She learned to
forgive others and even herself.
Surprisingly though, Kat isn’t my favorite character to
write anymore. In my current novel in progress, the main character and narrator,
Mike, has a genius younger brother, Dougie, who has skipped two grades but
never skipped an opportunity for a sarcastic comment. Dougie is a hoot and threatens
to take over every scene. Although he’s book-learning brilliant, he lacks
common sense and has very low social intelligence—which, together with his
immaturity, makes it difficult for him to navigate the hallways of a suburban
high school.
In this new novel I’m writing about my usual topics—death,
loss, dark humor, grief, and whether it’s possible to save someone—but also other topics
from my childhood: parental alcoholism, PTSD, and the difficulty of a bright
but socially awkward kid trying to get though American schools.
We are all affected by the times we live in, and I think
that’s especially true of writers. So I’m also writing about evil, powerful
evil, and how some collaborate with it and others—at great risk to themselves—resist.
I’m writing about courage. I’m writing about empathy, how we develop it, and
how some people lack it. I am writing about right and wrong and the struggle for the human soul. As his brother Mike explains, “Sometimes, before it settles
down to point the right direction, Dougie’s moral compass spins.”
And how.
By the end of the novel, everything will turn on whether
Dougie can be empathetic and whether he’s learned to take care of others when
he gets an offer to collaborate with power and evil instead.
I like the arc of Dougie’s story and its promise, especially
in these dark times. As I sat down to write this today, I learned that the
Trump administration has terminated the “medical deferred action” program,
under which desperately ill children without legal status were getting treated
for life-threatening leukemia, cystic fibrosis, muscular dystrophy, and other conditions,
without the interruption of getting deported, which could kill them.
That hit pretty close to home. My first book was about a
family where the boy had leukemia. My wife is a former pediatric intensive care
nurse who now works in a children’s hospice, with children who have
life-limiting illnesses or who are at the end of their short lives.
May we all be better in learning empathy and learning to do
good, even when it costs something, instead of evil. That’s what my next book
is about, and Dougie is helping me to tell the story. For that, he’s
my current favorite.
Good luck to us all.
Dean Gloster has an
MFA in writing for children and young adults from Vermont College of Fine Arts.
He is a former stand-up comedian and a former law clerk at the U.S. Supreme
Court. His debut YA novel DESSERT FIRST is out from Merit Press/Simon Pulse.
School Library Journal called it “a sweet, sorrowful, and simply divine debut
novel that teens will be sinking their teeth into. This wonderful story…will be
a hit with fans of John Green's The Fault in Our Stars and Jesse Andrews's Me
and Earl and the Dying Girl.” His current novel is about two funny brothers who
have to team up with their friend Claire to save the world. It has all the
usual Dean Gloster novel ingredients: Death, humor, the question of whether
it’s possible to save someone, a love interest to root for, dysfunctional
parenting, and a slightly off-kilter sensibility. Also a mergers and
acquisitions lawyer dad who is missing 74 percent of his soul.
When
Dean is not studying Aikido or downhill ski racing, he’s on Twitter:
@deangloster
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Tuesday, August 27, 2019
What makes a favorite? (Jennifer R. Hubbard)
I have the same issue most other authors seem to have with picking favorites: it's difficult, maybe even impossible. And I'm less interested in telling you about my favorites from my own books than hearing about which characters are readers' favorites, and why. (Feel free to do so in the comments below, if you wish.)
So I thought I'd talk instead about what makes a character--whether in my own book or in any book I read--a favorite. Off the top of my head, and in no particular order, here are some characteristics I came up with:
Character is entertaining. Often this means funny--humor is a big plus--but it can mean unpredictable, even shocking. When we don't know what this character will do or say next, it keeps us on our toes. We need not even like the character's actions to be fascinated by them, to look forward to this character's next appearance.
Character may be self-sacrificing or generous in some way. Sydney Carton is perhaps the shining example here, but a character need not go that far to win our admiration. Think of Han Solo in Star Wars, flying in when he'd seemed to abandon the mission. Think of all the characters who help one another in The Hunger Games trilogy. Donald Maass writes often of the power of the redemptive arc. The character shouldn't be a self-regarding martyr--"look how much I do for you"--and shouldn't be a pushover whose shoulders we want to shake while screaming, "Get a backbone!" but honestly helps out other characters from principle.
Character's special spark is evident. We all have some unique talent or skill or aptitude. It's fun to admire excellence in other people, which I think is part of the reason we watch sports, and Broadway shows, and magicians' acts, and videos of people doing the extraordinary. We like to be dazzled. A favorite character may be the best singer or thief or mind-reader or warrior, but the character may also simply be the wisest, or the funniest, or the most imaginative. Whatever it is, the author lets that specialness shine, and we are drawn to it.
So I thought I'd talk instead about what makes a character--whether in my own book or in any book I read--a favorite. Off the top of my head, and in no particular order, here are some characteristics I came up with:
Character is entertaining. Often this means funny--humor is a big plus--but it can mean unpredictable, even shocking. When we don't know what this character will do or say next, it keeps us on our toes. We need not even like the character's actions to be fascinated by them, to look forward to this character's next appearance.
Character may be self-sacrificing or generous in some way. Sydney Carton is perhaps the shining example here, but a character need not go that far to win our admiration. Think of Han Solo in Star Wars, flying in when he'd seemed to abandon the mission. Think of all the characters who help one another in The Hunger Games trilogy. Donald Maass writes often of the power of the redemptive arc. The character shouldn't be a self-regarding martyr--"look how much I do for you"--and shouldn't be a pushover whose shoulders we want to shake while screaming, "Get a backbone!" but honestly helps out other characters from principle.
Character's special spark is evident. We all have some unique talent or skill or aptitude. It's fun to admire excellence in other people, which I think is part of the reason we watch sports, and Broadway shows, and magicians' acts, and videos of people doing the extraordinary. We like to be dazzled. A favorite character may be the best singer or thief or mind-reader or warrior, but the character may also simply be the wisest, or the funniest, or the most imaginative. Whatever it is, the author lets that specialness shine, and we are drawn to it.
Saturday, August 24, 2019
Characters that make themselves “favorites” by Brenda Hiatt
One advantage to writing my blog post late in the month is getting to see how the other authors handled that month’s topic before deciding what angle to take. As several people pointed out, asking an author to choose a favorite character is a lot like asking a mother to choose a favorite from among her children—which is why a few chose to focus on secondary rather than main characters.
Partly because my books take so long to write, I get very attached not only to my main characters, but to my secondary characters as well. Unfortunately, because secondary characters have to serve the story of the main character(s), they sometimes get short shrift…and that always makes me feel bad for them. Because I want those characters to get happy endings, too (I do write romance, after all!) I’ve developed rather a habit of giving secondary characters books of their own later on. It seems only fair, after all I’ve put them through!
I wrote the first book of my Starstruck series completely from the heroine’s viewpoint, since the story was mostly her journey. I originally thought I’d do the whole series that way, but in book 2, Starcrossed, the hero’s journey was almost as important as hers, so I felt compelled to give him a few viewpoint chapters in that book. (In present tense, which I’d never written before, but which he insisted on, no matter how many times I tried to “fix” it back to past tense!) Once I’d done that, I decided to write a short story exclusively from his viewpoint, as a giftie to my newsletter subscribers. (BTW, anyone can get Rigel’s Jewel by subscribing: https://brendahiatt.com/subscribe )
In Starcrossed, newcomer Sean was the main antagonist (if not quite a villain), scheming to steal M (my heroine) away from her soulmate, Rigel. While writing that book, I got to know Sean’s inner workings pretty well. So well that in book 3, Starbound, I decided to give Sean his own viewpoint in several chapters, to let readers in on his thought process and motivations. In the process, I made him a tortured sort of hero in his own right, though the primary story arc was still M’s. His transformation continued in Starfall, book 4. That book was again mostly in M’s POV, though this time with a middle section in Rigel’s viewpoint that sort of paralleled the first few chapters of Starstruck. (That was so much fun to write!)
After the sacrifices Sean made in books 3 and 4, it bothered me a lot that even though he was now thoroughly redeemed for his misguided efforts in book 2, he was left hanging without a happy ending at what I expected to be the end of the series. Fortunately, enough readers asked for more books that after a brief hiatus I decided to continue the series. After a “bridge” novella (Fractured Jewel), I decided to give Sean his own story with The Girl From Mars. In that book, he’s forced to confront everything he grew up believing when he’s faced with a heroine who challenges all of his assumptions.
Molly, Sean’s sister, was another significant secondary character in Starcrossed, Starbound, Starfall and The Girl from Mars. As she and M became closer and closer friends (after some early conflict), I/we learned more about the push-pull of her life as a girl born into an “inferior” class but raised by a high-ranking family. So in The Handmaid’s Secret, I finally gave Molly her own story (and happy ending) too, exploring her dynamics and giving her a hero worthy of her—though of course he had to earn that!
The next book in the series, which I’m currently writing, will require all three couples to work together to conquer the challenges coming their way—which means all six of the characters I’ve developed will have story arcs that will come to some kind of satisfying conclusion. That means I’m still working out how to balance everyone’s viewpoints, since it’s feeling like more of an “ensemble” book than the previous installments. It’ll be a challenge, so stay tuned!
Friday, August 23, 2019
My Favorite Character by Christine Gunderson
My favorite character from one of my books is a wise-cracking best friend named Roxanne. The protagonist starts the book as a strait-laced rule follower. She changes on her journey through the story and by the end she’s strong, rebellious and unafraid. But she doesn’t start that way.
This protagonist character was hard for me to write in the early pages, before she changes. And suddenly Roxanne just sort of appeared. She’s a snarky rule breaker and I later realized she needed to be there, because she became a moral guide for my main character who began to ask, “What would Roxanne do?” in difficult situations.
If I look back at the books I’ve loved, the main characters are usually a lot like Roxanne, in different ways. Elizabeth Bennet from my beloved Pride and Prejudice is witty, independent and rebellious too, in her refusal to marry Mr. Collins even though she has no other prospects. Becky Sharp in Vanity Fair, another one of my favorites, is sometimes downright evil, but she’s also brave and smart.
Roxanne isn’t based on anyone I know. None of my characters are based on real people. I know many writers do use templates from the real world when they create characters and I wish I did this too, because it sounds like a more convincing and efficient way to write a book, legal issues aside. But if there’s a difficult, inefficient way to write, that seems to be the method I choose every time.
Do I love and create these characters because they’re like me? I hope I’m not amoral like Becky Sharpe, and I'll never be as witty as Elizabeth Bennet, but it is true that if someone orders me to do something, I do the opposite, on principle. I also have an issue with authority figures and speed limit signs. Coincidence? Maybe.
I read a hilarious book on vacation this summer called Class Mom by Laurie Gelman, and I’m still thinking about the characters. And that’s my goal when I sit down to write, to create sticky characters the reader carries inside their head and hopefully in their heart too, long after they finish the book.
###
Christine Gunderson is a former television anchor and reporter and former House and Senate aide who lives outside of Washington, D.C. with her husband, children and Star, the Wonder Dog. When not writing, she’s sailing, playing Star Wars trivia, re-reading Persuasion,or unloading the dishwasher.
Thursday, August 22, 2019
Betcha Can't Choose Just One! by Patty Blount
August is Favorite Character Month and with six young adult novels published to date, I bet you're probably thinking it's hard to pick just one.
You'd be right.
It's SO hard.
Authors work on novels for a year or two before they're published so those characters we develop start to feel like family. Picking a favorite just isn't possible. I'm incredibly proud of Dan Ellison, the former bully in SEND and of Derek Lawrence in SOMEONE I USED TO KNOW, because I think they did the most growing up, the most changing, of all of my characters. But I'm equally proud of Grace Collier and Ashley Lawrence, sexual assault survivors in SOME BOYS and SOMEONE I USED TO KNOW, because they fought so hard to challenge assumptions in their respective stories.
Don't even get me started on Jin-Thomas Clarke, the Pulitzer-Prize-Winning journalist in BORDERLINES, a still unpublished novel of mine that launched a decade-long crush I've had on actor Gilles Marini. (Want the steamy details? Click here.)
Main characters already know they're pretty damn special; they got their own books. You know who never gets any love?
The secondary character!
So I've decided to tell you a little bit about my favorite supporting characters.
First up, we have Mr. Russell, Ian's dad in SOME BOYS. Main character Grace may not be what some consider to be a 'nice girl.' She wears a lot of leather and studs, black clothes, heavy makeup. It's an outfit she adopted as something of a protest to annoy her father.
It works. Perhaps a little too well. Because after Grace's assault, he doesn't give her the comfort and the reassurance she so desperately needs. He suggests the crime committed against her may be her fault because of how she dresses.
You know who does provide comfort? Mr. Russell, main character Ian's father. He not only believes Grace, he steps up, advocates for Grace when no one else would. I adore that character. Here's an excerpt from SOME BOYS where Mr. Russell does what should be done.
Another favorite secondary character of mine is Etta in THE WAY IT HURTS. Etta is main character Kristen Cartwright's grandmother. She's this larger-than-life former stage actress who coaches Kristen through a seriously humiliating event with a "don't get mad, get even" philosophy. Etta has a string of ex-husbands who all still adore her and are still part of her extended family. She knows what she wants and doesn't just expect it; she demands it in ways that have people tripping over themselves to provide it. Etta has a health crisis in this novel and it's Kristen who propels Etta out of her hospital bed in a gratifying role reversal.
Last month, our theme was secrets in our novels. Here's a secret for you: I adore writing secondary characters' relationships with main characters. I love revealing different aspects to love, to grief, to disappointment, to pride. These supporting characters reveal those aspects to perfection. Here's a scene from THE WAY IT HURTS starring Etta.
You'd be right.
It's SO hard.
Authors work on novels for a year or two before they're published so those characters we develop start to feel like family. Picking a favorite just isn't possible. I'm incredibly proud of Dan Ellison, the former bully in SEND and of Derek Lawrence in SOMEONE I USED TO KNOW, because I think they did the most growing up, the most changing, of all of my characters. But I'm equally proud of Grace Collier and Ashley Lawrence, sexual assault survivors in SOME BOYS and SOMEONE I USED TO KNOW, because they fought so hard to challenge assumptions in their respective stories.
Don't even get me started on Jin-Thomas Clarke, the Pulitzer-Prize-Winning journalist in BORDERLINES, a still unpublished novel of mine that launched a decade-long crush I've had on actor Gilles Marini. (Want the steamy details? Click here.)
Main characters already know they're pretty damn special; they got their own books. You know who never gets any love?
The secondary character!
So I've decided to tell you a little bit about my favorite supporting characters.
First up, we have Mr. Russell, Ian's dad in SOME BOYS. Main character Grace may not be what some consider to be a 'nice girl.' She wears a lot of leather and studs, black clothes, heavy makeup. It's an outfit she adopted as something of a protest to annoy her father.
It works. Perhaps a little too well. Because after Grace's assault, he doesn't give her the comfort and the reassurance she so desperately needs. He suggests the crime committed against her may be her fault because of how she dresses.
You know who does provide comfort? Mr. Russell, main character Ian's father. He not only believes Grace, he steps up, advocates for Grace when no one else would. I adore that character. Here's an excerpt from SOME BOYS where Mr. Russell does what should be done.
I knock on the door
to the second property Mr. Russell wants me to shoot.
The door's answered
by a guy named Don Harding, a short, thinks-he's-a-player guy wearing a t-shirt
that's too tight to be anything but sad. He looks me up and down, smirks a Zac
kind of smirk and invites me in. In my head, warning bells sound, sirens wail,
and forces are mobilizing for a full scale attack. Don The Homeowner looks at
me like I'm nuts while I try to convince myself this is safe but it's not safe
and I know it, he knows it and he's daring me to do it anyway.
"You live here
alone?"
"My wife won't
be home for a while yet, sweet thing. You could come in for a while."
Another smirk. Yeah, this is definitely not a good idea.
"When's your
wife home?"
"Six-thirty or
so."
"I'll come
back then, Mr. Harding."
"Call me Don,
honey."
How about no?
"I'll come back." With a bodyguard and maybe a weapon.
I head down the
walk, so happy not to be trapped in a room with this creep.
"Aw, come on.
We're both here now. Why you gotta be like this?"
Me?
— Oh, you douche. I whip around, not surprised to find that he followed me down
the walk. "You wanna know why I have to be like this? Because you're a
slimy asshole, that's why. I came here to do a job but you have to act like a
dick and then say it's me. It's my
fault. It's my problem."
He holds up his
hands in surrender. "Jeez, I was just—"
"Oh, you were
just what? Playing around?" I
wave my hands. "Oh, oh, you were joking
and didn't mean anything? Newsflash, Don,
I don't find guys like you even a little bit funny. I'm here to take pictures
of your new kitchen. Period. I'll come back when your wife is home so pray I
don't tell her what you tried to do." To add more weight to my bluff, I
whip my phone out of my pocket and wiggle it in front of his face.
I turn to leave.
"Aw, baby,
come on—"
I flip directions,
stride right up to him so that we're standing toe to toe, and grab a fistful of
his t-shirt. "My name isn't honey,
or baby, or sweet thing. I am not here to amuse you until your wife gets home.
Last chance — are you gonna get out of my way or do I have to mess you
up?"
"Okay! Okay!
You on your period or something?"
My vision tunnels
and I want to tie this guy's tongue in a knot. Before I can do something I'll
have to be bailed out for, I turn on my heel and leave. Don Harding's new
kitchen is not going to make it into Mr. Russell's new brochures and I really
don't give a shit.
When I reach the
corner, it hits me I'm not scared anymore. Guess I'm too mad to be scared. I
call Mr. Russell, tell him word for word what just happened, and apologize.
"Grace, what
did Ian do when Mr. Harding got fresh with you?"
"Oh, he's not
here."
"I see."
Crap. I think I
just got Ian in big trouble. "He got a ride home from one of his friends.
I decided to visit the properties near the school after he left."
"I see."
"Mr. Russell,
please. It's not his fault, really. Zac was causing trouble, so Ian got him
away from me."
"Well, that's
something. Where are you now?"
"Um, walking
to the Miller's house up on College Drive."
"I'll meet you
there."
He ends the call
before I can protest. It takes no more than ten minutes to find the third
address on Mr. Russell's list. When I turn up the walk and knock on the door,
the homeowner holds up his finger. "Yeah, she's here right now. Okay.
Bye."
"Are you
Grace?"
I nod.
"Come on in.
That was Steve Russell on the phone."
I hesitate.
"Are you Mr. Miller?" The man is tall, with a ton of gray hair
streaking the sides of his head. He's wearing a pair of wire-rim glasses and
has a tiny gut hanging over the waistline of his Dockers. When he smiles, he
seems friendly, not slimy.
"Yeah, Brett
Miller. My wife is outside with our kids." He holds out a hand to me but I
still hesitate. After a moment, he lowers his hand and loses his smile.
"Grace, Steve told me what just happened."
I shut my eyes with
a groan.
"It's okay.
Why don't you walk around the house to the yard and I'll stay in the kitchen,
okay?"
I look at him
sideways. "Really?"
"Really."
He grins again.
I nod and walk
around the house. Mrs. Miller is pushing a toddler on a swing set. An older boy
is running around with a soccer ball. A door slides open and Mr. Miller calls
out. Mrs. Miller picks up the baby and heads indoors. A few minutes later, the
little boy follows. The yard is like a park with tons of perfectly clipped
grass and curvy flower beds. Mr. Russell designed custom tile that resemble
scales for a large fish at the bottom of the pool. The sun's at the perfect
angle to show off those colors. There's something about framing the perfect
shot, something soothing, maybe even cathartic. It's like your whole world gets
reduced to just light and shadow, to whatever fits in the viewfinder. Mr.
Russell does beautiful work. The pictures I'm taking will make people want to
touch this fish, see if those scales are real.
With a happy sigh,
I carefully pack the camera away and turn to wave at the Millers, watching from
their kitchen. I wind my way around the house and find Mr. Russell leaning
against the white Camry. "How'd it go?"
"Mr. Russell?
What are you doing here?"
"Making sure
nobody else gives you any trouble."
I blink. My dad
told me the same thing once. It was after my first day of kindergarten. I
walked out of the huge steel doors and found him leaning against our car. I ran
over to him and he scooped me up into his arms and asked me if anybody was mean
to me. Nobody was until a few weeks later when a little witch named Samantha
got me sent to the principal's office. Strange how after Zac assaults me and
everybody's mean to me, now his response is "What do you expect me to do
when you—"
He never finishes that sentence. I guess he didn't really need to.
I swallow hard.
"Thanks, Mr. Russell. Really."
"So, can I see
what you've got so far?"
"Yeah. Sure." I unpack the camera,
switch to scroll and hand it to him.
"Grace, these
are amazing. Thank you so much. Wait, what's this?"
I snatch the camera
from him when he scrolls too far and sees one of the Zac shots I'd taken.
"Nothing. I should go. It's getting dark."
"I'll drop you
off."
"No! I can
walk."
Mr. Russell's eyes,
so much like Ian's, go hot for a moment. Then he sighs. "Grace, I know you
don't know me, but I promise you this — you're safe with me. I am so, so sorry
about what happened to you."
My throat closes
and I nod once, then take off. He drives slowly behind me as I walk all the way
home. I hate that he knows what happened. I hate that he thinks I'm afraid of
him, that I can't handle myself.
I hate that he's
right.
Another favorite secondary character of mine is Etta in THE WAY IT HURTS. Etta is main character Kristen Cartwright's grandmother. She's this larger-than-life former stage actress who coaches Kristen through a seriously humiliating event with a "don't get mad, get even" philosophy. Etta has a string of ex-husbands who all still adore her and are still part of her extended family. She knows what she wants and doesn't just expect it; she demands it in ways that have people tripping over themselves to provide it. Etta has a health crisis in this novel and it's Kristen who propels Etta out of her hospital bed in a gratifying role reversal.
Last month, our theme was secrets in our novels. Here's a secret for you: I adore writing secondary characters' relationships with main characters. I love revealing different aspects to love, to grief, to disappointment, to pride. These supporting characters reveal those aspects to perfection. Here's a scene from THE WAY IT HURTS starring Etta.
"How could he do that, Etta?" I sobbed.
"Hush,
darling, hush." She stroked my hair. "Are you absolutely certain he -- what is it again?"
"Twitter.
And yes. I am. He posted a picture of me." I lifted my head from her
shoulder and curled my legs under me. Etta handed me the box of tissues from
the table beside the sofa, where a framed photo of Etta and Dad sat. I blew my
nose loudly and sniffled a few times. "I thought he liked me, Etta. Really
liked me."
"He
does, darling. I saw the boy's face
and I'm an excellent judge of
character, remember?"
Despite
the knife twisting deep in my soul, I laughed. I couldn't help it. Etta could
always make me laugh no matter how crappy I felt. That was why I came straight
here, instead of running up to my room and hiding under the covers. "Maybe
he's just a good actor."
Etta
raised both eyebrows over her tea cup at that. "Nobody's that good, darling." She studied me
for a long moment. She wasn't fully dressed today -- no red lips or outlandish
eye makeup, but she still looked amazing to me. "Come with me. I have just
the thing to cheer you up."
I
followed her into the kitchen -- a tiny room at the back of the apartment my parents
built for her. The apartment was just large enough for Etta's acting souvenirs
and her. She had a tiny sofa, a flat screen TV on the wall. Every spot of wall
space boasted autographed pictures of Etta and her leading men, or Playbills,
or reviews of her performances -- the good ones, that is. Knowing Etta as well
as he did, Dad provided only a basic kitchen. Etta didn't cook. Not even a
little. Her refrigerator held leftovers from the meals Mom cooked or the meals
Etta ordered in. I watched while she opened the door to the tiny fridge, rooted
around inside for a moment and surfaced bearing a foil-wrapped package.
"Sit,
sit." She waved me over to the small bistro table in the corner. I sat on
a high stool while she opened the cabinet in the hall, took out one of her
fancy plates, the kind rimmed in gold, and brought it to the counter near the
fridge. A moment later, she put it down in front of me.
I
gasped.
Six
chocolate-covered strawberries circled the plate, on top of a lace doily. Fresh
tears choked me. Etta wrapped her arms around me and squeezed. "Oh, hush
now. No boy is ever worth your tears,
darling. I should know. I married four."
"You
never cried over a boy, Etta?"
She
pulled out a chair and sat opposite me, studied the plate, and chose a strawberry.
She bit into it, closing her eyes with a moan. "Not since I was thirteen
years old and Harold Fine decided that Rose DeLuro had nicer...assets... than I did." She looked
pointedly at her chest -- noticeably flatter than mine.
I
took after Mom's side of the family in that department.
"What
about The Four? Didn't you love them?"
She
slowly chewed her berry, licked her fingers and shrugged. "I certainly
thought I did at the time."
"And
now?"
She
smiled brightly. "And now I know I am far too self-absorbed to love any
man more than I love myself."
"Uh."
I blinked. I had no idea how to respond to that. I grabbed a strawberry of my
own, took a bite and felt immediately better. "Where did you get these?
They're amazing."
"The
chocolate shop off Main Street, near the theater. Wonderful, aren't they?"
Wonderful
didn't come close.
"If
you were a tad bit older, I'd pour you a shot of whiskey in that tea."
I
stared at her. "I won't tell if you won't."
She
smiled and gave me the nice-try look. "Now then. Tell me from the
beginning everything that happened."
So
I did. We drank our tea, finished the strawberries, and I told her
everything... the band and The Beat and all the crappy insults and put-downs
I'd had to deal with just because I posted my opinions.
"And
these insults... you're certain they were from Elijah?"
"Um,
well, no. Only the one about making me scream. Oh, Etta!" I buried my face
in my hands and sobbed. "I really thought he was great. But he's just --
he's just-- "
"A
man. The question is, how will you use
this information?"
I
lifted my head and stared at her through my tears. "I don't know what you
mean."
"Kristen,
my darling, whether this Elijah is great or not is not the question you should be asking. You now know something about
him -- how can that something help you get what you need?"
"I
don't know what I need!"
"Of
course you do." She repeated with a subtle eye roll. "You were
heartbroken about your summer program rejection. What if you created your own
summer program? What if you accepted Mr. Hamilton's indecent proposal?" She leaned in closer. "And what if screaming in his rock band is just the sort of unexpected something extra that you need on your conservatory
applications?"
I
rocked back in my seat. Could I do that? Could I hide the crack in my heart and
pretend this is just my next role? Yeah. Yeah, I decided, I could. "I
guess I could call him."
Etta
gasped. "Oh, no, you will not.
You will wait for young Mr. Hamilton to come to you, begging. When he does, and
he will, you'll agree to sing in his
band and then you will capture all of
his fans with one simple technique that has endured
through the ages. It's called sexual competition, darling."
I
choked and then quickly looked around to make sure Mom and Dad hadn't possibly
heard that.
Etta patted my back. "It's not what you
think," she said, waving a hand. "The concept is quite simple,
really. Despite it being the twenty-first century and all, it's just that
people -- especially men, cannot
believe women can do anything as well or heaven forbid, better than they can. You turn this into a competition like that
and people who don't even like this
sort of music will fill seats just to see who wins."
My
eyes widened. If I did this, I could really
give Elijah Hamilton's fans something to talk about -- and maybe, with a little
luck, that something might involve revenge of all sorts of unspeakable agony.
A
slow grin spread across my face. I raised my teacup and Etta clinked it, a
matching grin on her face.
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