When you fall in love...
I don't know about other writers; I can only speak for myself. But sometimes, when you start a story, you like your original characters, but...there are some you like more than others. I guess it's sort of the 'Stephanie Meyers' effect, because she is so clearly in love with Edward. *and yes, I have read the books. Well, the last two, anyway. Listen, anything that is that big of a phenomenon makes the rest of us typing away sit up and take notice. Like them or not? The woman has sold one hell of a lot of books!*
So, I almost always really like my characters, particularly the main ones, or what is the point in writing about them, right? But once in a while, one will sneak up on me and before I know it, I'm head over heels in love with him. Such is the case with one of the main characters in the novel I'm working on; his name is Kiernan Fitzpatrick, and he's a medium, a la John Edwards. Only... not.
Here's his introduction to the story; (oh, Matt is actually the protagonist. More about him later. And Sheila is his well meaning but intensely pushy sister in law)
A young man bounded out from behind the curtain and the applause swelled, and Matt was sure there had been some sort of mistake. This was the famous medium? Was this some sort of a joke? He glanced at Sheila, and she was smiling and applauding with the rest of them. Matt frowned.
If Kiernan Fitzpatrick was five foot eight, Matt would have been surprised. He was… well, compact. He appeared to have a lithe and solid build under his tattered Levi’s and fitted hoodie; his shoulders were square and his thighs were sturdy, but he was short. And he looked as if he couldn’t have been older than nineteen or twenty. His hair was short on the sides and along his nape, slightly longer over his forehead and inky black, curling around a face that was angular and fine boned. His skin was smooth, clear and very fair, but there was a bluish shadow darkening his square chin and on his upper lip, indicating a heavy beard. It was the only sign that he wasn’t, in fact, a teenager. His most striking feature, however, was his eyes; they were huge, heavily lashed, topped by elegantly arched black brows and so blue that even twenty five rows back, Matt could see the color. He leaned towards Sheila, nudging her arm.
“He’s a kid,” he said.
“He’s twenty seven,” she retorted, “which you’d know if you’d read the program.”
Matt huffed but sat back, watching as Fitzpatrick bounded across the room and up the steps to the small stage, the applause still ringing when he stopped in front of the microphone stand. He looked around the room, grinning and rubbing the palms of his hands on the denim covering his thighs, as if he was just brimming with excess energy and couldn’t contain it. An indentation appeared near the left corner of his lips, and made him look younger still. He reached up absently and unzipped his hoodie, and Matt saw that underneath it he was wearing a white t-shirt with blue printing on it that read; “I’m not short; I’m fun-sized”. Sheila laughed and angled her head toward Matt.
“Admit it,” she said as the applause went on. “He’s adorable.”
Matt didn’t comment, but he didn’t deny it, either. He was cute; so what?
“Hello,” Fitzpatrick said finally, his voice surprisingly deep. “I’m Kiernan.”
A smattering of applause met the announcement, and Matt could swear that he saw a blush spread across the high cheekbones. “Oh, I wouldn’t get too excited about that,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh, and there were scattered chuckles. "Let's see how this goes before you commit yourselves." The smile that spread over his face in response to the renewed laughter was impish.
So, that's Kiernan. Irrepressible, gifted, still possessed of a child-like wonder, and the owner of a truly impressive collection of irreverent t-shirts. And he's stolen my heart completely.
Is it incredibly self absorbed that I kinda love someone I made up?
Next, we'll talk about Matt...
So, I almost always really like my characters, particularly the main ones, or what is the point in writing about them, right? But once in a while, one will sneak up on me and before I know it, I'm head over heels in love with him. Such is the case with one of the main characters in the novel I'm working on; his name is Kiernan Fitzpatrick, and he's a medium, a la John Edwards. Only... not.
Here's his introduction to the story; (oh, Matt is actually the protagonist. More about him later. And Sheila is his well meaning but intensely pushy sister in law)
A young man bounded out from behind the curtain and the applause swelled, and Matt was sure there had been some sort of mistake. This was the famous medium? Was this some sort of a joke? He glanced at Sheila, and she was smiling and applauding with the rest of them. Matt frowned.
If Kiernan Fitzpatrick was five foot eight, Matt would have been surprised. He was… well, compact. He appeared to have a lithe and solid build under his tattered Levi’s and fitted hoodie; his shoulders were square and his thighs were sturdy, but he was short. And he looked as if he couldn’t have been older than nineteen or twenty. His hair was short on the sides and along his nape, slightly longer over his forehead and inky black, curling around a face that was angular and fine boned. His skin was smooth, clear and very fair, but there was a bluish shadow darkening his square chin and on his upper lip, indicating a heavy beard. It was the only sign that he wasn’t, in fact, a teenager. His most striking feature, however, was his eyes; they were huge, heavily lashed, topped by elegantly arched black brows and so blue that even twenty five rows back, Matt could see the color. He leaned towards Sheila, nudging her arm.
“He’s a kid,” he said.
“He’s twenty seven,” she retorted, “which you’d know if you’d read the program.”
Matt huffed but sat back, watching as Fitzpatrick bounded across the room and up the steps to the small stage, the applause still ringing when he stopped in front of the microphone stand. He looked around the room, grinning and rubbing the palms of his hands on the denim covering his thighs, as if he was just brimming with excess energy and couldn’t contain it. An indentation appeared near the left corner of his lips, and made him look younger still. He reached up absently and unzipped his hoodie, and Matt saw that underneath it he was wearing a white t-shirt with blue printing on it that read; “I’m not short; I’m fun-sized”. Sheila laughed and angled her head toward Matt.
“Admit it,” she said as the applause went on. “He’s adorable.”
Matt didn’t comment, but he didn’t deny it, either. He was cute; so what?
“Hello,” Fitzpatrick said finally, his voice surprisingly deep. “I’m Kiernan.”
A smattering of applause met the announcement, and Matt could swear that he saw a blush spread across the high cheekbones. “Oh, I wouldn’t get too excited about that,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh, and there were scattered chuckles. "Let's see how this goes before you commit yourselves." The smile that spread over his face in response to the renewed laughter was impish.
So, that's Kiernan. Irrepressible, gifted, still possessed of a child-like wonder, and the owner of a truly impressive collection of irreverent t-shirts. And he's stolen my heart completely.
Is it incredibly self absorbed that I kinda love someone I made up?
Next, we'll talk about Matt...