Okay okay, I admit it, I am a very very baaaaaaaaaaad blogger. It's been a rather full (and cold, as in freezing, as in dive for the flannel sheets and add blankeys to the wardrobe kind of cold) week around here. Writing is going quite well; I think I've hit my stride for this part of the book.
I will admit that part of my quietness is that the last complete scene I wrote was a tough one. My heroine had to say some things -- and not say other things-- to a character she might not see again, and let me tell you, this is one of those that takes something out of a writer. I love when that happens.
Matter of fact, I wish it happened more. That's when I know it's doing it right. When I want to run to the rail along with Jonnet and heave lunch over (okay, gross and graphic, I know, but bear with me) myself, it's because I'm feeling her turmoil along with her in more than the usual way.
I remember the first time this happened, when I was still writing "1" as the first digit of my age, and visiting an aunt in NYC. She understood I needed writing time (one of the many reasons we always did and still do get on that well.) As I sat down for that session, I told myself "when I get up from writing this, X will be dead." I liked X. I liked X a lot. Killing him was rough on me, but needed for the plot, and if I ever revisit that story (though I would have to fight the abominable mothball monster for it) X is still going down. I don't think I would have been happy with myself or the story if X hadn't gone out when and where and how he did. Nor would OitS be right if Jonnet didn't go through what she just did.
Bad things can happen to good characters, and make the story even better. Make it right. Since I'm writing romance, I know the happy ending is there, waiting at the other side of whatever lies between once upon a time and happily ever after. Call me twisted, but that's where the fun lives.