Ok, I know you want to know all about the title, but first an update:
Pages Written to Date: 70
Pages Deleted: A sad total of 30. It’s what you get when you suck at outlining.
Pies Eaten: 0
Number of books read: 1
Number of Die Hard movies watched this week: 4
Now, on to the blog.
Becoming a 16-year-old girl is not easy. First of all, I’m not 16. Or a girl. Yet my protagonist is. So how do I get in the mind of a creature I do not understand? I honestly think it would be easier for me to get inside the head of a troll possessed by the exorcist demon.
So, first I think back to what I was like when I was 16. I felt things deeply back then. I loved more purely, hated more passionately, feared rejection, wanted to be noticed and ignored with equal desire. I had fun just running around, playing soccer. I longed for the day I could afford a car. I watched Scooby-Doo and Masterpiece Theater. I sat at the front in English class, at the back in chemistry.
I met the love of my life, fought my last fight (for spiking someone as I slid into on 2nd base), learned to drive, treated my brother poorly, ignored my mom, missed my dad, gave up drawing, played with my dog, created vast dungeons filled with dragons and read books about Mars and Dark Lords and lands far away.
I dreamed of being a great writer, believed the world was full of wondrous things and great adventures but, deep down, I felt like I never really fit in. Not like everyone else. I always felt a like an outsider looking in.
But the more I thought on this, the more I realized that good characters, if they’re 16 years old, 30, 50, are all made from the same stuff. Hopes and fears. Experiences, good and bad. Noble deeds done. Shameful ones hidden.
I realized a good character struggles. A good character is tested. A good character endures.
More importantly, I realized a good character should never be completely defined by their age.
Odds are they have some opinions on this subject.