Hearing Voices

One thing I've appreciated as I've read other writers' (I'll put myself in that category even though I'm unpublished) blogs and forums is that they all have the same experience I have had -- they hear the voices of their characters -- and those characters tell them what to write. I always thought I was a bit crazy until I figured out I wasn't alone in this. I'd been telling my hubby and children this for years, not realizing just how normal this is for someone who writes fiction. To a non-writer, it probably still seems a bit insane.

My latest creation -- FANCY -- has been the most difficult thing I've written to date. I've blamed it on several things -- being tired and needing a longer break between stories, my daughter's wedding (a legitimate reason, I believe), having to put my own desires and wishes on the backburner so that everybody else can be satisfied first (let's see, we can call that the daughter/wife/mother syndrome). No matter what, the words have been hard to come by. And it didn't help when one of the characters asked to have the story partially told from his point of view. I had not counted on that but gave in -- only to have him get shy on me. Having to draw a story out of a somewhat repressed transvestite is no cup of tea.

I've tried to overruled my characters a few times -- with little success. I've had to change every place I'd written the obviously wrong name. I've had to accept them as a redhead instead of the brunette I thought they were. I've tried to stuff their square selves into round holes much to their displeasure. I've coaxed them into telling me things they didn't want to tell. I've asked them to be quiet just for one minute please while I think on my own. I've tearfully said goodbye as I write THE END on a story, though I know I can visit them when other, newer characters aren't being so damn pushy and needy.

I've fallen in love with a vampire. A time-tossed, curly-headed medieval man. A ginger-haired Scot. A man too good to be true, another with the voice of an angel. A cross-dresser. A history professor. A man who wasn't who he said he was but turned out to be even more.

And waiting in the wings...well, eventually they'll have their say. They'll tell me what they need. And some will even be gracious enough to allow me to share them with you.

Someone is whispering in my ear right now. I have no idea who it is. But that's okay. I'll know when it's necessary.