rewriting – The Writers in Residence

By Jill Amadio

Outraged at my character deciding to get herself murdered far too early in my mystery, I was also furious that she had the temerity to go out on her own and run off with my carefully organized plot. She wasn’t actually a bride, but she sure was a runaway. And a female.

How dare she! I had barely sorted out a new setting and spent time researching a lonely location in the UK when this forward young woman opted out of my book. Not only had she escaped from my timeline, but she was also in the wrong place.

Her impulsive decision and demise threw two other characters, one the murderer, into complete confusion. I almost felt them turning to me and saying, “Now what?”

Keeping control of one’s fictional characters is usually a given. Like chess pieces, the author can move them here and there with impunity. We can, and often do, change people and places around but the decision has to be the writer’s.

Something similar happened to me once before. In my second mystery, I knew who the killer was, and I looked forward to her denouement. However, the more I wrote her, the more I came to like her. The upshot was I had to choose a different character as the murderer and thus change his gender and personality, to say nothing of his traits and habits.

However, my runaway person really put me over a barrel with her unexpected death. Should I write her out completely? Force her to stay alive a little longer? What did her early, unplanned demise mean to the rest of the storyline, the remaining characters, and my peace of mind?

It seemed that the best thing to do was to move the chapter in which she wrote herself gone forever to the end of my Word document so that I wouldn’t have to look at that chapter until l I decided where to fit it in, given the new circumstances.

Actually, I knew exactly where and when I wanted her to meet her end, but her decision to die on her own terms threw me into disarray. To say nothing of writer’s block.

I perused my synopsis, wondering if I should wedge her in where she wanted to be, but again, it was clear that her interference meant a lot more work. I would have to rearrange people and places, maybe add a new character and perhaps an extra victim, if any of her shenanigans were to make sense.

Another thought – must I re-think my POV? In order to get her back in line, would she be satisfied with being re-written in first? Her dramatic demise certainly was a plea for help. On the other hand, I had envisioned and written her with poor eyesight and she wore glasses. How did that affect the decision to off herself? Was she too vain to wish to continue as one of my characters? I saw my authority begin to dissolve.

So, in a heroic effort to re-establish and re-claim my jurisdiction – after all, she was supposedly my creation – I finally decided I needed to be very firm with her. She could not just go around deciding how, when, and where to become the center of the action. What if others followed her lead?

Ah! Maybe that was her problem. She felt like a minor character rather than a major one. She wanted more attention. Still, offing herself hardly seemed the way to go about it since, once she was dead, she had no way to enjoy the fruits of her action. I’d not planned for her to play a prominent part. I guess she realized she was definitely not the important character she thought she deserved to be.

Again, I had a lightbulb moment. Therein lay the danger of a runaway character. They imagine they have a more significant role in the plot or a different personality than the author provides. Writers know that characters make a story. When your fictional book people populate your imagination and come alive their actions determine the story.

Readers want to be swept away into the life of a character. This silly woman ruined that purpose. I was sorely tempted to discard any reference to her and replace her with a male.

As I continued to figure out what to do, I began to question my understanding of human nature. Then I remembered that this runaway lady was not human but a creation—an AI. Perhaps my fellow Residence writers can suggest a solution. Am I being a Pollyanna?

by Miko Johnston

If you had your life to live over, would you change it in any way? And assuming the answer is yes, how – or more to the point, how much – would you change it?

For me that’s not a philosophical question. I actually have the opportunity to change an entire life, only it isn’t mine. It’s my characters’.

When CAB, the publisher of my first three books, ceased operations, the rights reverted to me. I was fortunate to find a new publisher to accept all four books and after some consideration, decided to focus on getting the new book published before reissuing the previously issued novels.

I received my original publishing contract on July 4, 2014 for the first two books of the series, already completed, and first right of refusal for the next two. Six years later to the day, my new publisher notified me that proof copies for A Petal In The Wind 4 were on order. While I wait, I’m preparing the earlier three books.

I knew of two mistakes in the series that needed correcting: an engagement ring that mysteriously wound up on a different finger and a currency that wasn’t in use at the time the book took place. I felt certain I would also find some spelling, grammatical, and punctuation errors as I reread each book in order, which I did and noted for correcting. I also found something I didn’t consider – signs of an inexperienced writer.

If you’ve read this blog over time, you may recall me saying my writing has matured along with my character Lala, and that statement became abundantly clear as I returned to my earlier works.

As a novice working on my first book, I lacked confidence in my writing and kept many aspects simple. I didn’t understand how to show the passage of time, other than having the characters go to bed one night and wake up the next morning. The idea of carrying a story over weeks, let alone years, felt too complicated, so my first book takes place in the course of a week and has a linear plotline. Very few scenes have more than three characters interacting, and I kept the language simple. One reader, who gave me my worst review ever (two stars), said, “The book reads like it was written by a child.” My protagonist was a child, “almost eight”, so I relied on subtext to convey some plot points. I will admit I found some of it overly dramatic.

By the second book, I felt able to carry the main story over the course of several months and comfortably handle scenes with four or more characters. In it, Lala is a young woman who’s about to experience romantic love for the first time. My reaction was similar to the first book – very dramatic, perhaps overly so. If I were writing it today, I would have been more subtle, but does the heightened drama and verbal hand-wringing reflect the character, even if it no longer reflects my writing?

Now I’m faced with a dilemma similar to what Lala faced in that book, when a ruse she devises backfires and she finds herself trapped. She observes what she fears most “…hadn’t taken place—yet. It could be stopped. She could stop it.” Ultimately she does.

What about me? Should I correct the mistakes and leave the rest as is, or make changes to the book to reflect the writer I am today? I can do it, but it doesn’t mean I ought to.

Have you found yourself in a similar situation? What did you do? What would you advise me to do?

What will I choose to do? Keep posted.

Miko Johnston, a founding member of The Writers in Residence, is the author of the historical fiction saga A PETAL IN THE WIND, as well as a contributor to anthologies, including “LAst Exit to Murder” and the soon-to-be-released “Whidbey Landmarks.”

The fourth book in her series is available now.

Miko lives in Washington (the big one) with her rocket scientist husband. Contact her at mikojohnstonauthor@gmail.com