Sunday, I was over at my pal Sally's house and we were doing our tandem-writing thing on her screened-in porch. I needed to write a particular scene in which my favorite character discovers the body of one of her grown children. I couldn't bring myself to do it, at first. I got up out of my chair and paced around. Sat back down, still couldn't write it. Walked around some more, feeling awful for her. I just felt so bad for her, probably in large part because I have a grown son of my own. I felt as if the longer I put it off, the longer she could go without knowing it. Finally, I confessed to Sally what was going on, and I burst into tears! Can you believe that, over a fictional character?! I've only cried over a character once before (over Ray Raintree in The Whole Truth), and I have to tell you that strictly from a writer's point of view, it is sweet sorrow.
Join me in the comments for coffee or tea?