Josi Kilpack reviewed my manuscript for me recently. When I received back the edits, I had to sit on them for a while and figure out how to make the suggested changes. She wanted more depth.
“You love your characters too much,” she said. “You’re afraid to let them get hurt.”
I can’t argue with her. I *do* love my characters. They are funny, and charming. I would go to movies with them and invite them on vacations if they were real.
“You have to let them get hurt!” she continues later in the manuscript. “Burn them, Julie! Burn them!”
Let me clarify a few things about this particular manuscript: Anyone who knows me knows I like writing good conflict, but I wrote this book to be a candy bar book–empty calories that are fun to consume but have no real value. It’s a romantic comedy. In the need to write a whimsical book after several books that were emotionally draining, I ended up with this one–a light breezy romance in the same vein as Notting Hill with Hugh Grant. What kind of silly woman wants to burn a miraculous man find who looks like this:
But after much contemplation, I have dug a little deeper and found that there are some other ways I could strengthen the conflict without losing the whimsy of romantic comedy.
And as I’ve continued, I’ve realized that the characters have to be burned at some point. How will I ever know what they are capable of if I never give them the chance to damage themselves?
My daughter’s moving in less than a month. 28 days and I will no longer be there to keep her from getting hurt. And yet, how could she ever know how strong she is if she doesn’t ever get to flex her muscles? How will she know what she’s capable of if she never takes chances, fails, succeeds, lives?
I wonder if God shakes his head at us silly mortals as we shake our fists at him. As we curse him for our trials, does he say, “It’s for your own good! I promise you’ll thank me later! If you don’t hurt, how will you ever know what you’re capable of?” He has to let us get hurt for our own good, our own learning, our own expansion into a greater universe.
I feel suddenly more grateful for my challenges.
Just as I have to let Rae go, for her own good so she can know that she is strong–not because I told her she was strong, but because she stood on her own two feet and proved it.
Where is your daughter going? I thought your oldest was just turning 13 or something.
She’s heading to Tuacahn for High School. She will be living with my parents. Her dream is to be an actress and going to such a great performing arts school will be great for her, even if it isn’t for me.
Hey, I love Notting Hill!
And I hope everything goes well with your daughter’s move!
That will be hard to let my kids go. But think, you can take it out on your characters.
I worked at a theatre when Notting Hill came out. I saw it–not kidding–26 times in the theatre. Yeah…I liked it.
I’m glad your daughter is stretching her wings and that you’re giving her the chance to find her dream. I haven’t been there yet but I’m sure it’s like ripping out half your heart and watching it take a bus far, far away. I’m proud of you for doing this for her though. What a wonderful parent to help her find her wings.
As for the characters, I’m a torcher. I love my characters–so ridiculously much–but they’re better people when I flambe them. I find out how strong they are and how hard they work to do the right things and then I realize–I love them even more.
p.s. Would we have loved Hugh and that last “interview” scene if we hadn’t watched he and Julie be ripped apart? For me, I love the “I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.” Rip my heart out!!
LT totally took my line! That is one of the best lines every said on screen (from a girl who refuses to watch black and white)
Rae will triumph, as will the book. And as much as you want to say it’s empty calories, I’m afraid you are incapable of writing that kind of book, Julie. You were simply ignoring the depth you’d already put there because you were having so much tilt-a-whirl fun. Add a little fire, and suddenly it’s wicked strapped to a rocket ship!
Love this analogy, Jules. Sometimes I think it was a good thing I waited to truly pour myself into my writing until I had kids. There’s so much more I understand now. So much depth to life I never could have seen before.
Also, you are an amazing mum. You really are.
I’m excited to read this romantic comedy of yours. It’s acutally hard to do it well and although it’s what I write, uh…let’s just say…I need to grow as a writer. A lot. But this idea of torching my characters…interesting. I must take it under advisement.
The new look is so pretty!
This is great advice for all writers.
Your book sounds so good. Can’t wait to read it! Also, what a relief that Rae will be living with your parents! That’s the next best thing. I’m now relieved for you.
Love the concept of letting them go so THEY can know how strong they are. My baby just got married and took off for a honeymoon in Cancun. Where I can’t call. Or text. Or email. I’m a wreck.
But she, I know, will be fine. And so will your daughter.
I have the opposite problem.
Chris at the critique group: Whatcha handing out to us this week, Margot?
Margot: Hurting my protaganist again.
Chris: uh, again? *slaps forehead* You need therapy, girl.
It’s so painfully true. How hard and good luck with that. As for your story, there is nothing better in a romance than to feel that familiar heartache, even though you know they end up happy!
Can’t wait to read it!
Julie, reading your words tonight it was as if my own mother was talking to me and telling me why she had to go. Thank you for that insight, my friend. I needed that understanding. *hugs*