We are one of the minority states in the US who wasn’t hit by Ragnorok (call it what it is, really). Instead, we got the clear skies and subzero windchill. In an effort to stay warm, I’ve dived back into another novel revision. I love this story, and I love the characters. I don’t love all my characters. But those who don’t strike a chord with me usually don’t make it to main character status in a novel. Because of all of this, I have a guest poster today.
Scott is the CSO (Chief Science Officer) for one of the most popular software companies in my head. He’s designed international best selling video games, and heads a team of mini-geniuses who help him do the same now. Or is that a mini-team of geniuses? Either way, Scott will keep you company while I get ready for work.
Scott
Hey, all. I’m supposed to blather on about what I do. I design video games. There, I’m done. My author wants me to tell you more in detail. She’s dumb, because that’s boring. No, really. Even to me, it’s boring. That would be like you talking about how you come up with story ideas. Oh, you do that?
Okay, fine. Forget it. I’m going to talk instead about the fact that my author is a fraud. Don’t get me wrong, I like her well enough, but I’m not big on secrets. Deception breeds hatred breeds the collapse of dreams you’ve worked a lifetime to build.
You know how she’s all like “I outline, I plot, I plan things eons in advance and build brilliant masterpieces from it.” Yeah, I call bullshit. You know what her idea of an outline is? One to two pages that say “and here, my MC gets depressed.” “And here, my MC realizes they’re better than that and grows as a person.” Honestly, you could swap out any of her ‘outlines’ with each other and no one would be able to pin them on the stories they belong to.
And then she doesn’t stick to them. She lets her characters run rampant. They tell her what they want to do, she lets them get away with it. “Uriel’s Fall”? used to have death, dismemberment, meglomania, all sorts of good stuff. And then Uriel was all whiny like “But I don’t want to kill people. I don’t want to rule the world. I just want someone to love me.” And my author was like “Oh, that’s so sweet. Okay.” And deleted half the freaking plot in the story. She called it ‘streamlining.’
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. Fifteen or twenty years ago, I was an alcoholic nobody who wasn’t capable of any interpersonal relationships beyond those in my head. I was a drummer in a garage band. A drummer. Bullshit. So I was all like “hey, author, don’t you love me?”. And she was all like “well, yeah. I mean you were my first.” (I was, too. Her first real male character, from the novel she doesn’t claim she wrote.) And I was like “So stop shafting me.”
And now I’m a game design prodigy who’s worth millions and gets to tap the girl she’s modeled almost completely after herself. Score. All because she lets her characters run rampant.
Whoa, hang on. I walk away to get coffee and you malign me? First, I have a name you know. Second, Max is not me. She’s blonde. And short. And only has one sibling. And third, you don’t get to sleep with her. I mean, I hadn’t decided yet, but now, totally putting my foot down. Besides, there’s no way the reader will buy that relationship.
Whatever. You’ve even admitted she’s modeled after you. Her nickname is the same as yours was in junior high. Her real name is Lorraine, and her high school friends called her Lori. How is that not you? She becomes more like you every day. And I will screw her, at least in one revision, because you’d do it if you met me, and because I want to.
You know what? I’m done. I’m not listening to you any more. And when did you become such an epic jerk? I know you think about more than just women. You’ve got depth. You’re based on a series of ideals that make you the perfect best friend. It’s why you’re not a garage band drummer any more. You’re starting to sound like Zach. ‘I’m gonna do her, and she’s going to like it.’
I’m. A. Guy. I think about these things. Yeah, I don’t say them. It doesn’t mean I don’t consider it. And don’t dis on Zach. You know you love him. He’s the foundation for almost everything you write now. And while we’re at it, have you stopped to consider that someone, fairly early on, because you have an intelligent group of followers, is going to figure out you’re just talking to yourself here? So, me, Max, horizontal tango, right?
This is so over. You’re not coming back again unless you stay on topic. Next time I’m bringing in someone submissive, like Michael.
Or Loki. Gawd I’d pay to see that. Dude would beat you into slobbering psychological submission.
He wouldn’t. I know his tricks. He’s transparent. Like, sheet of glass transparent.
Lucifer, then. You still haven’t figured him out have you? Still don’t quite know what his motivations are? How do you write an entire series about someone’s plot to ressurect Horus when you don’t even know what his motivations are?
That’s it. We’re done. I’ll be back tomorrow without the voices, and next time, I’ll let someone guest post who hasn’t spent the last twenty years traipsing through my subconscious. Ciao ^_^
