You bet your ass, I do.
...it's changed a bit over time, though...
When I was a younger writer, I wrote everyone as a drama. When I read my old stories, I always feel like people are being overly everything. (Notice what I said there? They're people to me, not characters.) But in the last few years, my characters have found their depth and I think that has to do with personal grit.
In the years between 30 and 34, I’ve met the love of my life, changed jobs in spectacular fashion, had some really incredible disappointments, screwed some things up horribly, and still managed to come out on top. It’s been a time of transition — and those are the characters I write… they’re ones who are becoming someone else, at a fundament level.
I always remember this line from some part of my epic (and terribly titled) Coffee Shop Series… the main character has been through a lot — there have been break ups and life changes and a pretty much every destabilization that a human can have and he’s still here. Now he’s facing yet another challenge and he says, “I’m new-Anders; I can do it,” with absolute surety*.
I’m new-Chris, too.
I guess it comes back to that theme I keep talking about — that I have continually written myself out of the dead ends of my life. The characters I’ve chosen all have decisions to make and none of them are black and white. Nothing they want is easy; it all feels horrible and they’re not sure they’re choosing correctly, but somewhere deep inside they know — they’re gonna make it.
They’re resilient, I guess. And it’s something I’ve got in me, too… grit that comes from ambition… traction from pushing forward into that which is uncomfortable… it’s something I’m proud of.
And even more than the personal side of this, I’d like to think I’m encouraging other people to dig deep, too. A lot of my stories are fictional memoirs, of a certain stripe — views from the end of something terrible… stories of looking back and analyzing what happened. There’s power in retrospect… and I guess, a part of me wants to show everyone that they can do it too — that there’s nothing special about my situation**, except an extreme internalization of manifest destiny on a tiny, personal level… (which, if you ask me, is the only level on which it really works…)
This was a lot of words…
Yes, I have a type: they’re people who work hard to become better versions of themselves, who have made mistakes and are still standing, who love other people more than is reasonable, who never give up… and I write them like that because it’s who I want to be.
...it's changed a bit over time, though...
When I was a younger writer, I wrote everyone as a drama. When I read my old stories, I always feel like people are being overly everything. (Notice what I said there? They're people to me, not characters.) But in the last few years, my characters have found their depth and I think that has to do with personal grit.
In the years between 30 and 34, I’ve met the love of my life, changed jobs in spectacular fashion, had some really incredible disappointments, screwed some things up horribly, and still managed to come out on top. It’s been a time of transition — and those are the characters I write… they’re ones who are becoming someone else, at a fundament level.
I always remember this line from some part of my epic (and terribly titled) Coffee Shop Series… the main character has been through a lot — there have been break ups and life changes and a pretty much every destabilization that a human can have and he’s still here. Now he’s facing yet another challenge and he says, “I’m new-Anders; I can do it,” with absolute surety*.
I’m new-Chris, too.
I guess it comes back to that theme I keep talking about — that I have continually written myself out of the dead ends of my life. The characters I’ve chosen all have decisions to make and none of them are black and white. Nothing they want is easy; it all feels horrible and they’re not sure they’re choosing correctly, but somewhere deep inside they know — they’re gonna make it.
They’re resilient, I guess. And it’s something I’ve got in me, too… grit that comes from ambition… traction from pushing forward into that which is uncomfortable… it’s something I’m proud of.
And even more than the personal side of this, I’d like to think I’m encouraging other people to dig deep, too. A lot of my stories are fictional memoirs, of a certain stripe — views from the end of something terrible… stories of looking back and analyzing what happened. There’s power in retrospect… and I guess, a part of me wants to show everyone that they can do it too — that there’s nothing special about my situation**, except an extreme internalization of manifest destiny on a tiny, personal level… (which, if you ask me, is the only level on which it really works…)
This was a lot of words…
Yes, I have a type: they’re people who work hard to become better versions of themselves, who have made mistakes and are still standing, who love other people more than is reasonable, who never give up… and I write them like that because it’s who I want to be.
————————
*I think it’s from the side story challenge, Twelve Hours to Solve This, but I’m not sure anymore.
** yes, I know — privilege is a thing, but I’m talking about personal grit. That’s something that belongs to all of us, on par with imagination… just ask figment.