When you don't want to write THAT

but you must

Yesterday evening I wrote what I did not want to write.

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I knew I was missing the antagonist’s perspective in the novel I’m readying for submission. I don’t like him. He did an unconscionable thing. But I knew I had to get behind his eyes. What did he believe, think; how could he justify his action in his own mind?

A writer of any note must be some sort of psychologist. (I’m pretty certain I addressed this in another post but it’s sticking, so here I go…)

We have to dig into the psyche of our characters and in order to do that, we must have a grasp on human nature and its underpinnings. Recently, I received feedback from two editors about The Soft Ones that the reader doesn’t know the protagonist’s family or understand why she responds to upheaval the way she does. I was able to fix that, knowing her backstory as I did. It made me laugh in a not-pretty way since I’d written buckets of backstory in the first drafts, and then taken those scenes out because I’d suspected them to be burdensome.

It was easy with my main character because I love her, I understand her, she is dear to me. But him—the bad guy—he’s a toughie to write on account of what he did. In regards to character development, one not only must understand all of the characters, it helps to love them all, at least a little bit. One has to make them human.

Perhaps I could have put my psychologist hat on and written Ray in the quiet of my office by myself, but I’d been avoiding it the way one avoids cleaning the cat litter. Having the safe space of a trusted facilitator in the company of skilled and attentive fellow writers provided me with a crucible in which to address the smell.

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There have been a few instances where something I’ve written had me careening out the door, gulping air. Interestingly, two of those times I was at retreats where there was a labyrinth. After throwing myself belly-down in order to feel the ground, I was able to rise and walk the labyrinth, thereby clearing thought and settling emotion. Another of those revelatory times was in Toronto at an Ellen Bass workshop. Broken by what I’d just written, I went out into the street and put too much money in a street person’s takeout cup.

The common thread that I believe allowed these charged literary episodes is that I was writing among others—others who also felt safe enough to write what was true. Even though last evening was a Zoom workshop, I felt held enough to slip into an abuser’s dark matter.

I’m not as brave as Barbara Gowdy who has gone stunningly deep into troubled characters who could easily be judged as evil. I doubt she needed a support group to accomplish what she has. But evidently, I do.

It could have something to do with how much I rely on lived experiences to write my stories—my own and those close to me—that writing can rip the skin from me. (What Hemingway said and all.)

I’ve been listening to The Gilmour Podcast, a delicious feast of listening to writers talking about writing, life, time, darkness, and other juicy stuff. (I sent this voice note to its creator, Jesse Gilmour, and it somehow moved him to publish it.) He is quite taken with Cormac McCarthy’s writing, in particular, Blood Meridian. I tried to read that book but after a few chapters, I had to close it. It’s hard enough to write the inner torment without having it literally bleed all over me. (Sorry, Jesse.)

In any case, I’m grateful for the literary support groups in my life. They are my lifeline.

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With them quietly writing their own scenes, I was able to write Ray’s mind. Here is an excerpt:

“Ever since Alex was born, Kate was just a mother, and you can’t make love to your mother, now can you? That would be wrong. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings by letting her know I was soft with no chance of her changing that. But those soft ones themselves; the young ones that smelled of summer, like berries about to burst, oh sweet Jesus, no trouble there.”

I had to hold my breath after I read. No labyrinth to walk. But I had my trusted friends with their generous and honest words to let me know I’d accomplished what I’d set out to do.

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Since Ray isn’t a point-of-view character, this isn’t likely to be included in the novel, but it will help me deepen scenes where he does appear.

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What are your challenges when writing? What is easy to write? I’d love to hear!