In my last posting I mentioned that I had started writing my next novel, currently entitled Chimney Bluffs. It is drawn from an actual tragedy that involved a mother, a father, and a young boy. I knew exactly how I wanted to begin this story. The opening chapter would be about the traumatic event itself. The book would be a deconstruction of that event and its meaning. All I needed was someone to discover the tragedy, someone to lead the reader to the event. Then I wouldn’t need that character anymore. I could move on.
I introduced the necessary character in the first sentence of the story. I wrote the chapter and was pleased with the outcome. But later, lying awake in bed, I thought about this character, Clarence Brisco. I didn’t feel comfortable linking a minor character to the most important action in the story. And it seemed like a mistake to develop this character at all only to erase him after the first chapter. Beyond that, I liked this character and wondered if I could do more with him than I planned.
I didn’t sleep well the following night either; at least not until I realized that I had Clarence Brisco should be the main character of the story; that his interaction with the event and its survivors would give me much more flexibility in dealing with the main theme of the story.
I had a map of the story in my mind, but not until I actually wrote myself into the territory of the story, did I discover Clarence and his role in the narrative. This is not the first time this has happened to me and I am learning it is common among writers. Sometimes the story creates itself as it comes out. Sometimes the difference between what is in your head and what comes out on the page is striking; more important, it’s often better.