Writing can be such a challenge for the most part. My friend ‘Shaw’ ( yes, that’s not his real name) who is my room mate ‘Mindy’s’ (that’s not her real name either) boyfriend always takes digs on me on how I can just sit at my table and just type away – random things that just pop up like how I felt walking down the street or about the cute hot dog vendor and call myself a ‘writer’.
Sure all my works may not have great didactic endings and may be some of them are about a ‘succulent breakfast burrito and the orgasmic play of flavors in my mouth’ but I’m sure there are readers out there who enjoy reading what I write (???)
I have spent months groping in deep darkness in broad daylight waiting for the creative burst of ideas to happen, been plagued by self doubt and have pestered Mindy to great extends with my crazy rambles one time and moody silence the other. I guess such is the lot of us writers- on our knees in the dark, moving forward finding a spot on the grass and waiting for Fireworks!
So in my pursuit to create a memorable, believable, three dimensional character/ protagonist for my novel I chose to portray a woman in her thirties who seems grown up but is actually still emotionally very immature from the emotional abuse she had to undergo as a child and her love interest is an older married man. This is based on my personal experience of having been ‘in love’ with an older man, but more on that in a later post.
It is almost the strange case of Jekyll and Hyde where to the world she appears to put on this fascade of being the epitome of moral uprightness when actually she isn’t and behind closed doors she is enjoying every minute of her time with this older man all the while justifying to herself that this is what her heart wants. The lover on the other hand is a self absorbed SOB who on the onset showers her with the love, acceptance and adulation which she missed from her own father but later goes on to being as emotionally abusive.
So is this man her lover or her father in her mind? Sometimes I struggle to draw the line even as I write.Is this strange or does this happen – where the writer gets confused and you just need to draw a line on how further down in the subconscious of your character you really need to dive into?
So I’m leaving for that breakfast burrito. Thank you to all the bloggers who dropped by to read my first post. Look forward to seeing you around more often.