This probably won’t make a lot of sense, but sometimes it makes you feel very strange having to make your characters grow up. I’m going through this right now, and it strange, wonderful . . . and depressing.
Strange because you remember all the stuff that came before, and you try to see if you can get all that stupid clumsiness down pat. Wonderful because you are trying to get it all right this time, and if you do your character is going to be a hell of a lot better than you.
And depression because you see all this missteps in your own life.
I know I shouldn’t do that, but it can’t be helped. When you write you are examining your own existence, and when you do that you see all the good times, the bad times, and every flaw that you felt fostered upon your self. It’s not pleasant, but it does make you learn more about yourself.
And, in turn, learn how to make your character a much better person than you ever were.
Today started shitty, but it got better later. And tonight . . . it’s ending good.
That’s me. My characters . . . oh, man. They got it made.
They are at least happy.
More to come on this, I think.