I already like the title of this post because it has so many levels. For example, is it “writing about self-hate” or is it “hate for my own writing?” And, it works so well because I’ve got both going on right now.
I’ve just finished a little of Damen right before the whole “interlude” with Jessie and I think I hate just about every word I’ve written, but I think I’ll have to keep in all of it because there’s just no real way to suggest his reasonings for befriending Corey without this new stuff. I just hate all the “tellingness” of all of it, but there’s not really a way to “show” this piece because I’m using this “tell” to help “show” the deeper meanings I’m trying to convey. Or at least attempting to convey.
I hadn’t really intended to include all this stuff about reading in LA, and I know a lot of that will have to be amended once I get to the full-heavy notes of Damen, but all in all, it felt good to just let the words flow see to what I ended up with in the end.
The biggest problem I see in the scene is that I’ve got a little self-loathing going on as far as Damen’s concerned and that bothers me because I don’t really see him as hating or pitying himself. Really, it’s all him missing his father and regretting the fact that he hadn’t cried. I haven’t yet decided whether he’ll cry for Brit or not, which honestly troubles me because that could be a really emotional turning point for him. At times, it seems like he would cry for her given all that’s happened and the fact that it’ll be another book-loving “best friend” type that’s leaving him so suddenly, but then again, having him cry would kind of lessen the impact of the “nothing left to say” thing I’m gunning for in the end. Crying feels like a way of saying something, but I don’t really want him saying anything.
It’s like each time I try to write him, it becomes more and more evident that he’s really going to be toughest character I’ll have ever to write. I know I’m leaps and bounds ahead of where I was about this time last year with him because previously I didn’t really know him and I knew I didn’t know him which made writing him infinitely difficult.
Now, however, it’s more of finding a way to think exactly how he would think without putting all of myself in him. I’m finding it’s rather hard to think like a fifteen-year-old boy without actually having been one, but I’ve written serial killers and lesbians before, so this will definitely work for me. I guess it’s just going to take a little more time to fully know and understand him.