I have been working on it for just shy of 6 months. Never have I hated myself more. This process has taken it’s toll.
Usually the girl comes first, and then the story. This time I am genuinely surprised. Maybe my plutonic fascination with her stems from all this, or maybe I’m some kind of crazy future telling gypsy.
Whitney, resembles a new friend in an incredibly eerie way. Her appearance… to a T, even the same height, eye color, and frame. Whitney’s personality is a direct copy of my interpretation of this new friend. They both light up a room to the men that are looking at them, forcing them to “hold back smiles with their upper teeth”
Yeah, I just talked about myself in limited omniscient third person…
I want her to read it, I want her to tell me what’s wrong with it. I want her to ask what’s wrong with me. I want her to say, “You’re and English major, and you just used the word “funnest”.”I want her to see what I see in her, on a page. I want her to laugh at the funny parts and scrunch up her face at the ending that brought tears to my own eyes.
Whitney is a character that is the culmination of every woman in my life, all of their good with a dash of their concentrated downfalls. She is the protagonist’s love interest. I love her so much because she came out of despair and hate and turned into something beautiful. When I wrote her, I was swathed with wine. I was taking my revenge out on her to show myself “I was better than all of these women.”
After serious reflection and deconstruction I picked apart the pieces of each individual situation and reassembled them into a mosaic that beautifully reflects their hearts, yet still tells the story the way it needed to be told.
I think that’s why I’m so drawn to this new friend. I see all of the downfalls, but I’ve had a glimpse at her spirit. I saw a quick flash of her true heart, and in a moment, it was gone.
Maybe I’ll write about her one day, and this weird quasi-plutonic relationship I want with her.
But for now, I am just a voyeur.