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Posts tagged storytelling
How to Fall in Love With the Characters You're Writing

Creating fictional characters is one of the great things about being an author. You get to play a deity who fashions humans out of clay, wood, or even plain old flesh then dictate everything that happens to their lives. Cool, eh?

Once you become a deity, you can choose to be one of three things: indifferent, cruel, or compassionate. You can be indifferent and just use your created characters as supporting chess pieces to move along the story you want to tell. You can cruel, inflicting the worst of the worsts on your hapless children. Or you can be loving and compassionate to your fictional babies who owe their existence to you. When I wrote my novel I Killed My Friends and It Thrilled Me, I became the third and I didn't even expect it.

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Mandy (A Valentine's Poem)

Oh, Mandy! Oh, Mandy! I could never be dandy.


You whispered that I turned you on.

What whetted you were men of brawn.


Oh, Mandy! Oh, Mandy! Your futz was sweet like candy.


You claimed your spot up on the hood,

made me eat mouth that tasted good.


Oh, Mandy! Oh, Mandy! Your body was so bendy.


Inside the car, we reached fourth base,

grappling in a sweaty embrace. 

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The Schooling from a Cab Driver

I wished all cab drivers were like him, customer service-oriented. After his successful Grab-a-Taxi bid, I called him to give the details of my whereabouts. He called a few minutes later, to say he was on his way to pick me up. He didn't have to, I already knew. He wasn't within sight yet but he was already going the extra mile.

I wished all cab drivers were like him, courteous. I headed for the back seat but he opened the door to the passenger seat, so I sat there instead.

I wished all cab drivers were like him, friendly. He greeted me with a smile. His voice was like a dog's, strong but friendly. If there was coffee in front of me, I'd be drinking it. We'd be like hanging out at a coffee shop chatting. I warmed up to him instantly.

I wished all cab drivers were like him, responsible. I told him why I rejected another cab driver before him. The greedy driver was asking for a high fixed fare, instead of using the meter, citing the 70% off sale at a nearby mall that was causing a traffic heavier than usual. I refused. “He should work behind a desk then,” laughed my cab driver. “Traffic is part of our job. It doesn't make sense to complain about it.” 

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