I love writing. I love books and words and storytelling and the whole messy world that comes with all of it.
But sometimes…sometimes I feel a little guilty for the damage I do to my characters.
When you get down to the heart of writing, I’m just a person sitting at a computer, torturing innocent, imaginary people.
The level of guilt I feel for torturing my characters varies depending on the series. With Girl of Glass, the world is ending, people are dying in mass, so the damage I did to Nola Kent is like…meh, at least you’re alive.
In How I Magically Messed Up My Life in Four Freakin’ Days there’s tons of drama and magic and danger, but Bryant’s resilient so I feel like he’ll be okay.
The Girl Without Magic gets a little tougher. Maggie Trent is strong and bold, but world hopping adventures are hard. And saving people is a lot of pressure.
The Tethering is rough because Jacob only wants to love Emilia, but it’s not that easy…
But I’m working on a new series, one in which I feel super guilty for the level of pain I’m putting my poor protagonist through.
She’s strong, she’s brave, she’s everything I would want to be if everything I had ever known was destroyed and my fate was to become an assassin. Her name is Ena, and I love her. She may be my favorite character I’ve ever written, but bad things just keep happening.
And I’m the one doing it.
Maybe it’s weird to be so concerned about the damage I’m doing to my imaginary characters. And I can’t make things easier for Ena because that’s just not how her story goes.
But dude…I feel really bad.
And I’m only on the first book in her series.