There’s going to be some spoilery stuff of all sorts in this post, Star Wars and otherwise. So… you’ve been warned… Last night, I finally killed the characters I’ve been tippy toeing around killing.
I was so sad about it, I cried a little. Then the kid decided to have some nighttime awake adventures and the hubs was in with her and I was thinking about how sad I was about having killed everyone in mort2. Then the thought, well, they would be dead by now anyway, because it was set in 10th century England. On the heels of that thought, came, Well, Star Wars was set a long time ago in a galaxy far far away and Han Solo would be dead by now anyway, and I started crying all over again.
That’s the power of a strong character. That’s the power of a good book. I don’t know if I can call my writing the power of a good book, but the power of that character you connect with, the power of that emotional attachment cannot be understated. Thinking about that scruffy nerf herder getting stabbed with an ancient weapon by his angsty spawn hurts on this fundamental level. Still.
And let’s not even get into mourning real people. The outcry over Bowie and Hans Gruber. They were magicians and their art was the magic.
Anyway. From where I’m sitting, I can’t imagine how much it hurt to write Han Solo dying. My little characters dying was awful, but doing something that was going to affect so many people? I can’t even imagine. I’m pretty bummed out today and writing the survivor’s feelings will suck. And be pretty easy. Hmm. How am I feeling? Sad and terrible? *type type type* Hey, now I’m done.
And on the downside, as soon as I’m done with this manuscript, I flop right into revision time and slogging through Khazad-dûm. Heh, no wonder I’ve been dragging this out so long! And here we go.