the voices that control me from inside my head tell me I shouldn't kill you yet
Oh, God, Ros Myers.
This is exactly what I find the experience of writing her to be like.
Exactly.
In any iteration.
Smile, smile, death glare, misdirection, obvious flippant bullshit, ten seconds of emotional honesty disguised as obvious flippant bullshit (and you can't tell which ten seconds...), smile, smile, thinly veiled threat.
There are some characters who just show up and invite you to crawl right into their skin (Adam; Alex fucking Drake), and then there are some who... really don't; and you wind up having to think your way into their heads, and extrapolate backwards from the fragments they choose to show you, and the thing is, that type frequently fucking lies. And then turns around and smiles and asks you if you actually thought she was serious. Nailing Jell-O to the wall just isn't in it.
She's still not as bad as Tom Quinn (the worst case of alexithymia I have ever seen -- he doesn't lie, he just stops talking), but ye gods.
(Yeah, this is why I don't talk so much about my writing process except to complain in fairly general terms; it makes me sound fucking nuts. Seriously.)
This entry was originally posted at http://thatyourefuse.dreamwidth.org/201375.html. Please comment there if you can.
Click to viewThis is exactly what I find the experience of writing her to be like.
Exactly.
In any iteration.
Smile, smile, death glare, misdirection, obvious flippant bullshit, ten seconds of emotional honesty disguised as obvious flippant bullshit (and you can't tell which ten seconds...), smile, smile, thinly veiled threat.
There are some characters who just show up and invite you to crawl right into their skin (Adam; Alex fucking Drake), and then there are some who... really don't; and you wind up having to think your way into their heads, and extrapolate backwards from the fragments they choose to show you, and the thing is, that type frequently fucking lies. And then turns around and smiles and asks you if you actually thought she was serious. Nailing Jell-O to the wall just isn't in it.
She's still not as bad as Tom Quinn (the worst case of alexithymia I have ever seen -- he doesn't lie, he just stops talking), but ye gods.
(Yeah, this is why I don't talk so much about my writing process except to complain in fairly general terms; it makes me sound fucking nuts. Seriously.)
This entry was originally posted at http://thatyourefuse.dreamwidth.org/201375.html. Please comment there if you can.