I got up this morning at 4.30am to write a heart-wrenching conversation two characters were having in my head.
I didn’t expect this conversation to ever take place. It’s in Book 3 of the Innocence Saga, which is only half-written and not a priority. But because I’ve re-written parts of Book 2, and because Book 1 and Book 2 are both in editing stages and I can dedicate more time to thinking about Book 3, this conversation suddenly seemed very important.
Normally I hate getting out of bed in the middle of the night. It’s training instilled in me, leftover from my childhood: once you were sent to bed, you stayed there. My partner is more laid-back. He was asleep, but I know if he were awake, he’d tell me to get up and go write it down, especially as I seemed to be having an epiphany through Innocence’s eyes and words. And really, when you’re a professional novelist, don’t you have the luxury of writing whenever you want, be it at 6am, 9am, 3pm or 3am?
In my earlier half-written draft of Book 3 (before the plot was overhauled), this conversation needn’t take place. Innocence was a different character: sassy, confident, friendly. But after I finished Book 2, things changed. I realised she was more damaged than I thought. She’s reserved, untrusting, and vulnerable. Her pain hurts me, too. She’s the character that’s been with me the longest, and I put her through a lot of crap (including several abandoned storylines and race changes).
I shed a tear as I wrote last night. Readers probably won’t be able to tell which section I’m talking about. But it means a lot to me, and hopefully that comes out in my writing. I’d hate all this emotion to go to waste. I’d hate to think that I should have stayed in bed, after all.