I never seem to be able to hold onto my characters and drag them out. I may have the opportunity to lay the blame for this on my most recent plotline, it is quite disgusting to grasp and hard to keep myself thinking of it.
I would still like to scrounge up more than those measly 15,000 words for the girlchild of my story. She deserves more after what I have put her through. At first I thought it was writer's block but then I came to realise that I was scared of my character.
Well, she came to me from my dreams, of course I was scared.
But on topic again. I forced a girl to be raped and have an evil stranger's baby. I saw her lose an almost friend in the process of adopting. I gave her a gorgeous daughter named Never to make up for the son she couldn't stand. Then I sent her to Zimbabwe.
I think I am afraid of holding on to these characters because I am being cruel. I am a morbid writer this week, hurting all my characters and making them cry. I am scared of my character, my creation and I am scared to keep her. I don't want her to haunt me. I don't want to hear myself saying I have not done justice to the trauma of this child whose life I have ruined.
Today, for the first time in my writer’s life, I am ashamed of the things I have written, the lies I have told. That is what a writer does. They tell lies for a living. I don't like my lies anymore.
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