Characters Versus Kids

The writing process, writing advice, and updates on your work in progress
Post Reply
THB
Posts: 22
Joined: December 16th, 2009, 7:51 pm
Location: NH
Contact:

Characters Versus Kids

Post by THB » January 14th, 2010, 8:46 pm

As writers, we pray for irresistible inspiration to strike, to discover characters or stories so compelling that they command us to drop every other pursuit until we’ve committed them to paper. But when they do show up, it’s not always possible to give them the unimpeded devotion they deserve, and no one knows that truth better than writers who are also parents. When my characters came into conflict with my kids, I figured that I just needed to make the rules clear . . .


“We have to talk.”

Kate planted herself in front of me at the kitchen counter. Her face contorted with disgust as she raised a goopy hand from the barstool—leftovers from my son’s peanut-butter-and-banana sandwich. “God, this place is always such a mess.” She peeled a sodden strip of crust off her palm and dropped it on the counter.

“Look,” she said, “I’ve tried again and again to talk to you about this relationship, and I never seem to be able to capture your attention for more than ten minutes. This isn’t working.”

I sighed, because I knew she had a point. Kate is the protagonist in the novel I’ve just begun to write. For years, I’d had three characters running around in my head, dropping by occasionally to inquire if I was ready for them yet, and the answer was always no. But last month, they burst into my bedroom, demanding to see me just as I was nodding off for my nightly five hours of sleep. “Wait, wait,” Kate cried. “Great news! We’ve figured out the story. We’ve got the basic relationships, the setting, the theme; you’re going to love it.” I barely got any sleep at all that night.

Now they follow me everywhere, barging in during five-year-old Jack’s story time and insisting on working out romantic entanglements just when I’ve stripped wriggling, two-year-old Emmie for her bath. Take yesterday, for example:

Emmie is in one of those critical developmental phases where she wants Mommy to validate every thought to which she gives voice. We were in the car, and I was dutifully answering, “Yes” to every cry of “Tree!” and “That’s right” to every pronouncement of “Cloud in sky.”

Without warning, Kate slid into the passenger seat beside me. “I have to tell you something.”

I glanced at her face; it had guilt plastered all over it.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on someone driving seventy miles per hour,” I chided her. “What do you need to talk to me about?”

“It’s Colin. Remember that scene where we were going to explore the possibility of a romantic relationship, but then we decided to keep it just friends?”

“Yeah. That’s pretty key, you know.”

I was then distracted by Emmie, who was shouting, “Mommy, TRUCK!”

“Yes, Emmie, truck.” I turned back to Kate. “You were saying?”

“Well, I don’t know how to tell you this, but we’ve fallen . . .”

“Mommy, I want snack.” I peered in the rearview mirror. Emmie was wearing her pitiful face, an expression she’s mastered to transform the heart of any unsuspecting adult into a puddle of syrup.

“You can have snack at home.”

“NOW!”

“At home.”

“NOWWW!” The tears began to simmer.

“Emmie, can’t you see I’m trying to talk to Kate here? Uh, Kate?”

She was gone. Damn. I knew she’d be back later, but she’d be ticked. Kate’s not very patient; I wonder if I should fix that?

A few hours later, I was helping the kids clean up the playroom, which meant that I put toys away while they chucked stuffed dinosaurs at each other. I turned to see Kate along with Colin, whose Van Gogh-blue eyes are irresistible to anyone who didn’t actually invent his charms, and Laura, whose face was utterly impassive. (Laura suffers from a severe lack of definition; she needs real attention, and I’ve already informed her she’s getting a new name. She’s got so little personality, she didn’t even care.)

Kate’s face was red, her jaw clenched. “Look, we know you want to write a novel. And we know you’ve been thrilled at the way we’ve been weaving plot points, character traits and relationships into your head at all hours of the day and night. But running around in your brain is one thing; if you ever want to get this on paper, you’re going to have to devote some substantial blocks of time to us.”

Colin opened his mouth to follow up, but I didn’t give him the chance.

I slammed a brachiosaurus down on the play kitchen; plastic peas flew everywhere. “I would love to spend a week with you, drinking cosmopolitans on the sun porch, prowling through back streets in exotic cities, sorting out who really loves whom.” They looked sheepish at this (except Laura, of course). “But my life isn’t like that. I have little kids. They need me, and I can’t just ignore them to spend time with you. You’re just going to have to accept that we will work in tiny chunks of time in between potty-training and trips to the park. You are not the only people in my life!”

I think they were surprised at my anger, because they muttered something about returning later with Ben & Jerry’s, and they slunk out the door.

When I complained about this confrontation to my husband, he stared at me for a moment. Then, very carefully, he said, “Honey, you know they’re not real people, right?”

Oh yeah? That’s what he thinks. Wait until later, when we finally get the kids to bed. We’ll sit down on the couch together, maybe turn out the lights. But then, at just the wrong time, we’ll hear one of those voices: “Uh, excuse me, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I’ve got an idea for the book . . .”

My characters are always with me, and the truth is that I don’t want them to leave because I’m afraid that if they do, they won’t ever come back. But my family needs me, too. How do you find time for both the people you love and the stories and characters you love almost (or maybe equally) as much?

User avatar
Susan Quinn
Posts: 86
Joined: December 7th, 2009, 1:10 pm
Contact:

Re: Characters Versus Kids

Post by Susan Quinn » January 14th, 2010, 8:59 pm

Flying peas! I've so been there.

My brain was so fuzzed, when the kids were under 5, that I could barely spell my own name, much less write a novel. So kudos to you, for even trying!
Susan Kaye Quinn (young adult and middle grade author)
ImageImage

Post Reply

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: Ahrefs [Bot] and 13 guests