My character is teaching me to be kind
Unsure of change
I am musically in love with OMAM, —Of Monsters and Men—. So I listen to them quite often, I've been doing that for months now. And there's a song by the title of Sloom, that it's a lot about love.
Well there's a line that, for some reason, my brain mishears, perhaps on purpose, even if I have the lyrics in front of my eyes.
The sea said goodbye to the shore
So the sun wouldn't notice
The seaweed that wrapped its
Arms around you
I get everything except the last verse of that first stanza, which I can't help but hear as:
unsure of change
Pardon me? But... but... but... but? Brain, how the puffins did do you do that?
Well, then I have to stop whatever I'm doing I'm write another entry of
Martin's diary
And now, I'll talk you about my book, because that's what you do. You may want to skip ahead to the next heading. For the TLDR, just read the highlighted words.
Martin starts the story at his deepest bottom. It could be worse, but it could certainly have been better. Child of an abusive father, my cute six-year-old is taken to a home, when his father leaves
Her mom in chronic mental damage.
Life becomes somehow better after that, well much better in fact, but not that good. Anyway, he's moved from home to home for institutional needs.
At age twelve he's still a regular kid, doing OK at school, and at least he eats well every day.
But, bullies, and an institution that doesn't care at all. And these bullies are happy when Martin plays “clown” for them at school. Teachers go nuts, you get a good laugh, and Martin gets the heat.
That's bad enough. But Martin gets in real trouble when his teacher gets angry at him, walks straight at him and... Martin believes she's about to hit him, just as monster, dad, used to hit mom.
So he pushes her teacher, cops are called and he, being boiled alive by guilt, ends up in a juvenile detention center. The catch is that he's in a country of my own imagination: New Birmingham, and he's placed in a particularly humane place.
From that point on, he starts making a comeback. And, with some ups and down, he isn't stopping.
My duty
So when my mind fabricates that fake verse, unsure of change, I have to stop whatever I'm doing and write.
Why? Because the story is taking him giving Martin the chance to do good, be good, do more than just redeeming himself. And, as imagined up characters cannot write their own stories, they need someone, and I'm that someone, unky author.
Call it a creative eccentricity, but I do care for my invisible Martin, and I can't help to be at pain when he is in pain too. I'm happy when he's happy and proud when he's doing better.
Yet, he's not at his best, so I have to keep writing to let my little puffling soar up. It will take time, these things aren't easy. So I have to keep writing.
In real life
What I've noticed to my shock is that, after leading my Martin in the way of kindness, I find myself being more patient, generous and working harder. I'm even doing more sports because my kid is good at sports, something I've never been.
In short, short, short
All I wanted to share is that being kind to my character is making me well. I cheerfully leave others to write about characters who live in darkness and cruelty, who believe in a world as evil as themselves.
There are too many of those stories being shown. I just cannot be moved to read or watch those any more.
I'll take the meek and downtrodden, those who feel they are week, and let them shine, or live trying.
Goodness makes everything good.