Continuing character week on the blog!
I was shocked the first time I had a conversation with a friend about Alex, about why we like him, what he’s done, what his plans are. How Alex needs a haircut, but he’s kinda sexy with it all shaggy. How he looks about ten years old when he’s sleeping and all the worries and the macho crap fall off his face.
Why is that so shocking? Because Alex doesn’t exist except in my head and on my pages.
Some characters come to me rich and real. They’re effortless and natural. Others, like Alex, start out one-dimensional, a placeholder, an archetype. When I first met Alexander Warin, he was a steroidal studmuffin, basically, a black-clad assassin from Mississippi I planned to kill off by at least the second book in my series.
But a funny thing happened on the way to the slaughterhouse. Alex wasn’t ready to go. He opened up, showed me the soft underbelly beneath the hard abs. He fought for his right to live while his cousin Jacob, the one I’d fallen in love with from the get-go, began struggling in a dark and dangerous way.
Well, damn. I had to kill off somebody else.
Do you talk about your characters as if they’re real people? And has one of them ever talked his way out of an execution?