Spoke too soon
Dec. 16th, 2010 08:40 pmMaybe I spoke too soon with that wittering on about writing for my own enjoyment. This scene I'm writing is taking me forever and is terrible.
Also my hero is kind of a Marty Stu. I was thinking pleasantly about how wonderfully complex I've made the heroine of this book-- in the first draft she was an innocent, none-too-bright leggy brunette of 18 who was naive and stunningly beautiful, blue-eyed and creamy-skinned. (That was 2003.) Now she has evolved into a black courtesan spy with tendencies toward paranoia and anxiety and an almost pathological need to please, but a very strong backbone, a ruthless streak a mile wide, and despite her training as a whore, a very deep-seated sense of loyalty and an unwavering moral compass. She struggles with weight, usually underweight, and has crazy hair and real trouble with letting herself be vulnerable enough to tell the truth.
I love writing about her interactions with the hero.
But then I realized that he's totally one-dimensional. He's just Perfect. He's tall, blond, green-eyed (yes! for real! Lordy), tattooed, honest to a fault, yadda yadda yadda blah blah. Like, really.
And I'm totally hopelessly in love with him, and he's the whole reason I want to write the book. Cuz I think he's awesome. And he's so flat! He stands there like a great dolt and is Understanding About The Heroine's Foibles. Nngh.
Oh well. Sometimes you just have to feel this way about things you're writing. It doesn't help that I'm getting sicker as the day goes on-- even with cough medicine now I can't stop coughing, and all the attendant bullshit is getting worse. So I feel like hammered shit, so it stands to reason that I'm not going to enjoy anything. Bleh.
Also my hero is kind of a Marty Stu. I was thinking pleasantly about how wonderfully complex I've made the heroine of this book-- in the first draft she was an innocent, none-too-bright leggy brunette of 18 who was naive and stunningly beautiful, blue-eyed and creamy-skinned. (That was 2003.) Now she has evolved into a black courtesan spy with tendencies toward paranoia and anxiety and an almost pathological need to please, but a very strong backbone, a ruthless streak a mile wide, and despite her training as a whore, a very deep-seated sense of loyalty and an unwavering moral compass. She struggles with weight, usually underweight, and has crazy hair and real trouble with letting herself be vulnerable enough to tell the truth.
I love writing about her interactions with the hero.
But then I realized that he's totally one-dimensional. He's just Perfect. He's tall, blond, green-eyed (yes! for real! Lordy), tattooed, honest to a fault, yadda yadda yadda blah blah. Like, really.
And I'm totally hopelessly in love with him, and he's the whole reason I want to write the book. Cuz I think he's awesome. And he's so flat! He stands there like a great dolt and is Understanding About The Heroine's Foibles. Nngh.
Oh well. Sometimes you just have to feel this way about things you're writing. It doesn't help that I'm getting sicker as the day goes on-- even with cough medicine now I can't stop coughing, and all the attendant bullshit is getting worse. So I feel like hammered shit, so it stands to reason that I'm not going to enjoy anything. Bleh.
no subject
Date: 2010-12-17 09:28 am (UTC)