Should an author kill a main character?

I’m sure those that managed to slog their way through the novels Game of Thrones (or more likely enjoyed the cinematic version in all its bloody, lusty, much more engaging glory) are familiar with the notion of an author killing off one (or countless) main characters. But I am struggling with letting one of my characters who is important to the story, to the other characters in the book, and presumably to my readers, die.

Illus. in: The Pirates Own Book, 1842

I’m so torn by this, that I haven’t actually made my mind up yet if he’s dead. His wife thinks he’s dead. The people who saw him dragged off by a wild beast into the forest after being run-through with a sword think he’s dead. But there’s a chance, just a chance, that he simply has amnesia and that’s why he’s been missing for nine months. Hey, I even believe that’s a possibility, and I’m the one who had him mauled by a beast from some other dimension or something. (Truth be told, I don’t even know for sure what these creatures are, or where they came from, or why they hauled this character off into the woods so we’d all assume he was dead–I hope I figure it out before the end of the book.)

Is it better to kill off a character so that the survivors can learn to deal with the pain, or is it too much for the reader to lose someone they’ve grown attached to? How do you feel when an author kills a character you love?

Scene on a Grave, 1859 by Vasily Grigoryevich Perov (1833-1882, Russia)

 

 

 

Dreams of Running Released

My newest novel, Dreams of Running, is now available in paperback and e-book. I’m glad to see it finally on the shelves. It was a long time coming.

It’s a good thing I completed all the editing and final bits before I discovered Masterpieces’s, Poldark, otherwise I might never have gotten it finished. Though I have NOT been binge watching (I like to drag out the pleasure of a good story, rather than wolf it down without tasting it fully), I have to say that I have been spending a lot of time with the two main characters in the show, played by Aiden Turner and Eleanor Tomlinson. They are SO much fun to watch. I mean, just LOOK at them!

But now I’ve completed the last episode in season 3, and have to wait months before I can dive into 1700’s Cornwall again, so perhaps I should spend my time productively in front of my computer, working on the final edits of my next book, Shadow of Power.

Or maybe I’ll succumb to the draw of enjoying someone else’s art again, and start watching The Crown. Hey, don’t judge. It’s educational.

 

New Novel

Hi folks. I haven’t been up on my blogging this last year–grieving has taken so much of my energy that I’ve had little for art or creativity. But I have managed to finalize the novel I finished while we were in Costa Rica last year. Publication date should be mid-next month or so.

Though I started this speculative fiction novel more than a year ago, it’s release is rather timely in the face of the world-wide focus on the sexual assault and harassment of women in the work-place by those in positions of power. This book examines oppression from the point of view of a person who does not know there is another way of living besides confinement, violence, and fear. I based the oppressive elements of Cayda’s society on the practices and mores of cultures across our globe and across history, which I describe in the Afterword for those who want more details about the history of gender oppression.

If this sounds a little heavy, it is. BUT, the story is still an exciting, fast-paced read, (and warning, there’s some sex too) so don’t worry about it feeling like a text book or anything!

I want to thank everyone who has helped me on this book–my valiant beta readers, particularly Trisha Morrissette Walker (who has been my friend and champion for more than 25 years), my family (immediate and extended, who support me like two cupped hands holding a fragile egg), and my editor David Beaumier (who has helped hone my stories for publication).

 

 

 

Love from the Beyond

Every morning I get up, take the dog out to pee, then turn to my coffee maker. (Yes, I only drink decaf, but you know it does still have some caffeine, and the steaming cup, the bitter nuttiness–that’s what I’m addicted to.) When I lift the mini-blinds to get to my coffee-bean-canister sitting on the windowsill, I am greeted by my orchid. Its smiling blooms bob and say, “Good morning, love, here’s some beauty for you.”

Here’s the thing about orchids–it’s worth looking at nothing but four leathery leaves for six months to a year, because when they finally bloom, they are gorgeous, and the blooms last way longer than a bouquet of flowers. Some species bloom for one or two weeks, but flowers on one of the most popular orchids, Phalaenopsis, can last anywhere from 60-120 days! I only looked up that data a week or so ago when I began to think that my orchid had been blooming for a REALLY long time. Like, freakishly long. I also found out I’m supposed to be fertilizing it. Ooops.

My friend brought me the flower when the boys and I moved into an apartment after Alex died. We moved in on March 6th. Guess what? My orchid is still blooming, even without its fertilizer! That’s a little over 29 weeks. That’s 206 days.

You know what else? When I got the orchid, it was sort of a burgundy and yellow color. Sort of like this:

I liked it, but it wasn’t the purple and white ones I love. I thought to myself, When this one stops blooming, I’m going to Trader Joe’s and getting a purple one. Why have I never owned orchids before? I love them. Then, this summer, I noticed that the blooms were no longer as burgundy and yellow. In fact, they were turning purple. Let me show what it looks like now:

Hum. Blooming for over 200 days, and still going strong, changing color to the one I really love, changing actually, to match the purple streak I put in my hair to mark my grief. You know what I think? I think my orchid is a celestial telephone.

I hear your message, my dear Alex, loud and clear, and I love you too.