(Or Dagda Mead – The name of the kingdom where The way of Wytch is set. Dagda means Father. Mead means meadow, the name is created from old English and Celtic lore.)
In which ever world we live in, be it real life or the one we live in between the pages of books.
Everyone has a duty.
As writers we have a duty to create stories, worlds and characters that make a person want to read them, to live them.
Our characters have to give life and substance to our stories.
Their duty is to endear the reader to the tale. To enrich a scene. To propel the story forward. To cause tension, or twist the plot, to guide the reader and to obstruct the hero or heroine.
As you already know; I love my characters. I adore creating them and seeking them out.
I hear them, I feel them, eventually I see them and live among them. They help me to create a world that is rich and, hopefully, powerful enough to share with others to live in, for a short while anyway.
As many characters that may tap at my mind asking to be heard. I can only concentrate on those who will give good reason for their existence in one of my stories.
I don’t like fillers.
If you have nothing constructive to say or do in the world I‘m currently working on, then get out of my head!
Do I sound like a mad person just now?
My point is. Every character has to have a duty. Regardless of how big or small that duty is, it is my duty to make the character as real and as tangible as is possible.
I have to say that on occasion I’ve put a book down and never gone back to it. The characters have always been the reason. If a writer can’t be bothered to give raw emotion and bad habits to a character how am I supposed to relate?
I grew up reading Grimms fairy tales among others.
My grandmother gave my sister and I some pretty hardcore fiction when we were small, there was nothing censored or certificated in our house. On one hand we had Monty Python on the television, and on the other, we had Stephen King to read.
Along with wonderful books about Lizzie Borden, Jack the Ripper, books filled with supernatural facts.
It was her duty as our Nan, to treat us, scare us, and let us get away with all sorts of things our parents wouldn’t have allowed. And our parents were pretty easy going for the time!
My sister will kill me this very night for this, as I promised her it would never be mentioned again.
As she’s older than me, and also a bookworm, she used to read to me most nights. I chose Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Over the next few nights she read it aloud, with funny voices and great narration.
In the end, Charlie died. Honestly, I believed that this childrens story had one of the most shocking ends to it ever.
He died. I was heart broken. What do you mean Charlie is dead?
It was my sisters duty to ruin me, my hopes and dreams. It was her duty to herself to put this spin on a book just to piss me off. However. The best thing about this particular story is that it’s still one of my cherished books from childhood. Laineys version, not Roald Dahls.
I also want to point out here, that whilst Stephen King and Jack the Ripper may not be too bad for children to read these days; Jack the Ripper being studied in U.K secondary schools.
My Nan left this world when I turned twelve, twelve! I had already consumed many of King’s novels and short stories by this time. I had read James Herbert, my bookshelf in my bedroom was packed with Peter Underwood and Colin Wilson. My friends were reading bloody Judy Blume!
Other kids only knew about Lizzie Borden as a sick nursery rhyme, I had read the court case, seen the pictures and sang the nursery rhyme with great relish.
It is my duty to inform you – I’m not insane, I’m not a criminal, I grew up just fine. With just a small amount of crazy to write horrible, ghostly stories that sometimes have a ghoulish edge!
P.S. I do certificate my kids – Sometimes!
Have a great weekend 😉