A Life of Their Own

Thomas's post on Monday about babies and characters developing took me right back to when my first child was born - and that wasn't yesterday!  I can remember being oppressed by the awful sense of responsibility: here was a little unformed being handed over into my inexpert care and what he would become was up to me.  I would feel very proud when he was good and ashamed when he wasn't, and if he turned out to be a disaster then it was All My Fault.

It was only when his sister was born three years later that I understood  retrospect how utterly wrong I was.  She came fully-equipped with her own entirely different personality and there was nothing I could do about that, or about my son's either, I realized.  I think I had seen myself as being like a sculptor, chiselling a creation out of a rock; the relief when I understood that all I had was a nail file was enormous.

They were going to do what they wanted, not what I wanted for them, however many little plans I had.  They're fine adults now, but that's thanks to them not me.

I get much more irritated with characters.  OK, my kids are their own people and entitled to ignore my wishes but  I should be able to force my characters, at least, to do what I want them to. I created them; I know their back story, because I created that too. I know what they ought to be like.  I know what part I have designed them to play in the story.

So why is it that some of them balk at that and take on a life of their own?  I've had characters destined for a very minor part in the proceedings who insist on forcing their way to the front of the action.  I've had connections between characters appear that I would swear I hadn't thought of before - 'Good gracious, I hadn't realized she was his cousin!'

The worst thing is, that if I decide to take them on and insist that they are going to do it my way they become limp and if I persist they drop down dead.  So I have to admit I've got rather feeble about it especially since they are often right about what they wanted to do and they turn out to be some of the most lifelike characters in the end.

After all, when that distinguished poet Pooh Bear described Tigger's weight in 'pounds, shillings and ounces' and Piglet objected that it seemed odd to have 'shillings' in between the 'pounds' and the 'ounces', he explained that 'they wanted to come in after the pounds, so I let them.  It is the best way to write poetry, letting things come.'

And possibly crime novels too?