Words: 1,507 (total: 5,877)
Well, today’s words were like pulling teeth, so we’ll call it there. I had to remind myself multiple times that it’s a first draft; it’s allowed to be absolute drivel; I’m just telling myself the story, etc.
But there was still a lot of thinking-pausing-deleting going on today, which is making me suspect that it’s a genuine issue with getting into this character’s head, rather than what it felt like last night (i.e. sheer exhaustion). Multiple times while writing, I wanted to wail who are you? at him. I’m trying to get a sense of his voice, but I’m also struggling with the fact that I’m writing in first/present while trying to conceal a few things from readers, and there’s not a lot of room at that focal length. And, of course, if I’m concealing something from the reader, then is this character also concealing it from himself? If so, why? And how effectively?
Basically I’m just tying my brain into a pretzel-shaped knot with this guy. And it’s hard not to wonder if it’s a matter of writing from the male perspective, since I’ve historically written more from the perspective of female characters. Not always, but I’d say it’s been a roughly 25/75 split.
I kept thinking about a piece of writing advice that I got from Tamora Pierce today, as a result. It was at a speculative fiction workshop for young writers, and I’d only applied because I’d heard she’d be teaching there. I idolized her back then. Still do, to some extent. If my apartment caught fire (knock on wood), my signed copy of Protector of the Small would be on the short list of things I’d save.
At the time, I was sixteen, and I’d asked her about writing male characters. She writes both men and women incredibly believably, and I’d been struggling with wrapping my head around the idea of writing from a perspective that wasn’t my own.
“They’re just people,” she’d said. “Men, women, boys, girls. We’re all just people.”
I had male friends even back then (thanks, Sam and Chris, for putting up with me), so I knew this conceptually. But somehow I’d managed to believe, until roughly the age of sixteen, that there was also something about the male brain that was fundamentally unknowable. As if they were viewing the world through a lens that I couldn’t even imagine.
But she broke it down so simply. If you’re being raised with certain pressures, that will shape you. If you want certain things, that will shape you. If you’re told your worth lies within something specific, that will shape you. Men and women are just people, being shaped by their environments and responding accordingly.
I know there’s a nature vs. nurture argument to be had here, but for the sake of writing, I’ve always clung to this idea. That we have more in common than we have different, because we’re all sharing in the human experience. That imagination and curiosity can bridge the gap.
And I’ve got to say, I thought about her words a lot when I started to navigate workplaces that were majority (and, later, entirely) men. There are worse philosophies out there than “we’re all just people.”
So I’m still getting to know this character, but I’m also trying to remember that he’s not unknowable. I just don’t know him yet, and that’s a problem I can solve.
– Mara
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