So, about once a week I get a real “good” bout of writer’s block. The stubborn kind. The kind that doesn’t go away with a few written words. I had to take a step back and diagnose why I was having said writer’s block. It wasn’t because some part of my mind was sabotoging my efforts by randomly scrolling on the internet. It wasn’t because I had no ideas.
It was because I didn’t know what Mordon (the almost-not-quite main character) thought, desired, or was conflicted by.
Once I identified this, I pondered it. What did he want? What did he think? I came up with a few generalized answers, but they lacked the realness that Feralyne provided to me. Mordon was a mystery–great, but a little too much of a mystery. I needed to know him, and not through Feralyne’s eyes. The time had come to know him personally, but the issue was how–how do I, the writer, become accustomed to a major character who I did not speak through?
I realized he wrote a daily journal (and read the Thaumatrugical Tribune religiously), and decided to write one of his entries. The poor man is quite possibly more conflicted than Feralyne. He is in every way good potential for a main character, but I am standing by my initial decision to make this Feralyne’s tale. She spoke to me first, and now he’s speaking to me because they’ve reached a point where their stories are entwined.
The journal entry lead me headlong into the chapter I’ve had troubles with–and now I realize I have been staring at a blank screen and lined paper for the last few days because it’s possibly the only chapter Feralyne doesn’t take the initiative. Relationships take turns, and Fera has been pretty gutsy lately and is now a bit frightened and uncertain. And what do friends do when their friends feel that way? Well, that depends on how good of a friend they are and what issues are, but Mordon steps up and does something. Maybe I will keep it as is. Maybe I will change it when I convert the chapter over to Feralyne’s perspective.