I stare at the computer screen. Blank. My mind is blank.
Around me are the familiar and monotonous sounds of home: the hum of the
dishwasher, the voices of little boys negotiating the arrangement of Legos on
our coffee table, toys rattling, limbs clunking against furniture. I block it
out most of the time, but when I really want to focus on something like
writing, that’s when I most notice them. My brain and my fingers and my
easily-manipulated emotions ache to spin words into a brilliant work that will
cause others’ emotions to ache the same way, but all I can do is sit here and
stare at the screen. Blank.
When I
read, my mind comes alive with excitement to produce, but never with anything
specific. Most times I want to extend the lives of the characters I am reading.
I want to create the moments I have longed for them to experience but never get
to read. I yearn for happy endings that didn’t materialize on the page. I feel
as though there are deep, insightful, thriving characters that lie, unhatched,
in the recesses of my imagination. They peek into my dreams at night and dabble
in ribald adventures of my subconscious. If I could somehow hook up a recording
system to my brain when I sleep, Hollywood
would sit back in awe at its contents. I wish that I could get some of this out
when I’m awake.
I mull over
characters I’ve tried to develop in previous stories. They are mediocre,
one-dimensional beings that never seem to have any goals beyond simple romance.
Recently I read that the best and most memorable characters are the ones who
portray quintessential traits. They embody the extremes of humanity – anger,
beauty, long-suffering, selflessness, bravery, skill, brutality, charm, etc. I
would like to create a person who is equally extreme, but I feel like all of
the possibilities have already been covered. Do I want to introduce the world
to another beautiful but slight heroine who rises from poverty to material or
emotional riches through her resolve and mental fortitude? How will she be
different from Anne Shirley, Katniss Everdeen, Tris Pryor, Elizabeth Bennett,
Elisa Lindheim, Laura Ingalls, Jane Stewart, and all the other women of fiction?
What trials will she have to endure to make her lovable and believable? How
will I bring about those trials organically without making them seem too
convenient?
Blank.
Another
challenge: do I want to include spirituality? I so admire the way that Brock
and Bodie Thoene incorporate the Bible and God and the Holy Spirit into their
stories quite seamlessly, enriching the reader’s faith without sacrificing the
quality of the plot. I would LOVE to write that way. Usually it seems easier to
leave out that aspect completely, because it’s so hard not to be cheesy or
superficial. But if I’m not focused on the Kingdom, then what really is my
purpose in writing? To impress myself? To impress others? Entertainment? Simply
to check a goal off my personal bucket list? For that matter, does fiction have
any eternal value? If it doesn’t, why do I feel so passionate about it?
Blank.
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