Letting My Characters Speak. Giving Inspiration the Driver’s Seat, #amwriting

A representation of Malachi.  Photo via Pixabay.

All writing © Pamela Schloesser Canepa, 2019.

There comes a time when a parent is no longer shaping and molding her child, when she/he must simply take a step back and observe, when everything you say or advise seems to be a reiteration of things you’ve already taught them.  That’s when it’s time to stand back and listen.  Well, it’s the same with our main characters. This has been coming into play with the writing of my current manuscript, tentatively titled, Malachi.  Malachi goes through some interesting experiences, and seeing them through his eyes was a whole lot of fun!

“I came to this job through an ad in the newspaper.   It read:  Acting job.  Get your foot in the door.  The tryout was basically an interview, and I didn’t get a call back until a week later.  Probably enough time for a background check.  I should have known right away that salty old guy in jeans was no director.”   –Malachi, work in progress

In undertaking this novel, I knew that I wanted to see things through a different point of view.  This book is in first person, and I know some people either prefer to read first person or totally shy away from it.  However, it does really place you in the character’s shoes.  Writing this novel for sure put me in this character’s shoes.  Why did I want that?  Well, Malachi is an interesting character who surfaced in my novel, Undercurrents in Time, because Cr. Milt Braddock has his fingers in something he knows nothing about handling.  Malachi is one of those hired to help him deal with it.  We don’t learn much about him, where he’s from, who his family is, who he relies on in times of distress, or why he does what he does.  He has what we would call an interesting job, and he is good at it.  That was apparent in Undercurrents.  He is a twenty-year-old kid who has the skill of flying by the seat of his pants, answering hard questions on the fly, and concocting a story to help him get through any situation.  He also failed out of college.

I found that, in putting myself in his shoes, I really wanted him to succeed yet understood the pitfalls he encountered.  (I was once young, myself, you know). Why was he so lonesome even when he was successful?  Maybe it helped that I am the mother of a son who is in his early twenties, whom I have seen flounder through a few years not knowing his direction, who has changed his path a few times.  I love writing the story though, putting myself in a character’s shoes and helping him while at the same time, putting some huge mishaps on his path.

Most of all, what I have enjoyed about writing this story in first-person-point-of- view is the listening.  In the morning, I get up and go to the kitchen.  I think, what would Malachi do first?  Then, I suppose I listen.  What would be going through his head?  Then I try to think like that.  On that note, what would be in Malachi’s kitchen cupboard?  Evidently, not much!  Remember, I was once young too…

Malachi’s story will likely be published in the spring or summer of 2020.  I am just getting to the end of the first draft, and will begin the process of editing, revising, and all of that fun stuff.  Malachi appears in the second book of the Detours in Time series.  If you haven’t yet, you can start the Detours in Time series today: https://www.amazon.com/gp/bookseries/B07F5WPK72

 

 

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“The Lady and the Champ,” a Short Story told strictly in dialogue. 1,000 word limit.

Warning:  Pure dialogue leaves a lot up for interpretation. Don’t miss anything.  🙂

The Lady and the Champ by Pamela Schloesser Canepa    Copyright, 2016.

 

“Bill, how about tonight?”

“Trish, you know it’s not been enough time since the accident, and I can’t take another pill today.  I’m sorry.  Please be patient.”

“I’m trying, hon’.”

“Oh, don’t give me that look.  You know what the doctor said.  I’m just, really hurting. One more pill and my blood pressure may skyrocket.”

“I didn’t know you’d already taken so many pills.  I didn’t know it was still this bad.  I’m sorry.   I try to understand how you’re feeling, and I’ve been patient.  Just, never mind, Bill.  No arm wrestling; it’s okay.  Is there anything I could do to make you feel better?”

“No, Trish.  There’s really not.  Well, maybe, fix me some of your excellent Texas cheese toast?”

“Of course.  Let me go do that.”

“You’re really so understanding.  How did I get so lucky to have a wife like you?”

“You were the most gentlemanly guy that came off the boat that night.  Of course, those muscles of yours probably caught my eye.”

“That’s the spirit.  Remember me that way.  We’ll get through this.”

*****

“Here you go, honey, just as you like it.”

“You’re not having any?”

“Not hungry.  I think I’ll just watch the boxing match.”

“You need to get out there and make some friends.  Don’t spend all your time with a sick, broken man like me.”

“That accident was not your fault, Bill.  I don’t need to be out gallavantin’ around and leaving you here to wallow in misery.  I don’t intend to, either.  We’ve only been married a year, and I don’t plan to neglect our marriage.  I want to be here for you.  We’ll just sit here and watch the match.”

“Why don’t you call up that gal, Becky?  Go out for a night on the town.”

“Nope.”

“Just go to a movie, girl, you need to get out.  I can’t stand seeing you housebound here with me, a twenty-three-year-old girl, full of energy, pretty as anything.  Go out and have some fun.  I trust you, really.”

“No, Bill.  I told you, I’m staying here and that’s all there is to it.”

“Go see Jared down the hall.  He’ll be good for practice.”

“What are you saying???!!What do you mean?”

“Well, look at the muscles on him.”

“I don’t want him!  I only want you!  Stop this!  Stop!  Stop!”

“Trish, I’m just saying, he’d be good for keeping you in shape, warmed up, ready for the next round.”

“You mean..”

“I mean the next arm wrestling match.  No, I’m not suggesting you run to his arms for comfort and love.  Gosh!  What do you think I am?   I know that’s not like you, and honestly, the thought sickens me.”

“Oh, what a relief.”

“But, please know, if I found out you did such a thing, I’d probably forgive you.  It can’t be easy hanging out here with a broken body like mine.  Heck, it’s probably like being married to an old man.   Sometimes I feel sorry for you.”

“Baby, I would never, ever look on someone else that way.  I don’t want anyone else.  I will wait for you.”

“Ouch.  Move your arm, please.  I’m still sore in that shoulder.  That’s not even the worst one.  See.  I can’t even stand you touching me right now.  Can’t even hug your old man.”

“I’m sorry!  I’m sorry.  Really.  Our money-making plans can wait.  Don’t worry.  I’ll keep in shape.  You’ll get better, and get back in shape.  We can do this.  Sorry, I know, I won’t touch you on the arm either.  Oh, I’m just, sorry.”

“Baby, don’t cry.  Just, can you please, just, let me sleep a while?”

“That feels good, you running your fingers through my hair, even if I have to sit on the floor.  Just keep on doing that, okay?  Well, ‘til you fall asleep.”

“Look at us.  You have to lean against my wheelchair, and the only way I can show you love is to play with your hair.  But not for too long, even that will make my arm tired soon.  You just don’t know how blessed I feel.  I truly know how lucky I am that you are my wife, that you’re still around…”

“Bill?  You stopped….Oh.  Asleep. Oh, well.  It was nice for a moment.  It’ll happen, Bill.  You’ll be fighting again soon; I’ll be a pro arm-wrestler.  Such a unique show we are together.”

****

 

“Honey?  Where are you?”

“I’m right here, Bill.  Had to clean up the kitchen.  Besides, you were sleeping.  You don’t have to worry about me sneaking out or running off.  I promise.”

“Trish, babe, I told you, I trust you.  No, it’s not that.  Look, out the window.  Jared is here.  Go catch him in the hall; see if he’s game.  If I can’t win any fights, maybe you can keep your game ready and win some matches.”

“Really?  Is this what you were dreaming about?”

“Hon’, you’ve got the beauty, the bod, and the strength to be a total knock-out, in more ways than one.  Don’t let it rest just because I have to.  Go on.  I know you’ll be back.  Believe me, I don’t expect anything bad to come out of this.  Jared’s a good guy, anyhow.  Knows my situation.  Really.  Just go, catch him in the hall like you just happened to be there, too.  Then, you make small talk, on the topic of arm-wrestling.  I’ll bet he didn’t know that about you.”

“Well, okay, I guess.”

“There he is, hear the outer door opening?  Go to him.  He’ll be willing, I’m sure.  He may be a good match, even.  Don’t look so glum!  I’ll be up and at it in no time.  In the meantime, have fun, and let me know how the arm-wrestling match goes.”

“Okay, Bill.  But keep remembering, I wish it was you.”

“I know, honey, don’t I know it.  I’ll be wishing it, too.”

 

*This story was in reaction to a short story contest, which I ultimately did not enter as I had too much going on.  I will say this, it was a challenge! There were so many spaces between the words leaving room for interpretation and innuendo.  Or maybe I intended that?  Your constructive comments are welcome. I don’t plan to re-write this; it is a snapshot.   What did you get out of it, without the benefit of setting and character background?  As always, thanks for reading!*