What fascinates me and challenges my imagination to capture on paper, is the interplay between the selves of the characters I'm writing about and the sheer abundance of their voices. I just returned from another visit with my orphanage cohorts in Texas, reliving with them the images from a photo album and the memories that leaped into the room from each scene. For hours, my sister's house throbbed with the joy and energy pumping rampant into the walls.
Each person, each character, has an infinite set of unique experiences potentially available for me to draw from, only a small portion of which I will identify as part of my story. It's painful to know that many characters will be left out. Every one of them is cherished and divine and has something important to say. Yet I must take what I have the capacity to comprehend and work with and leave the rest for another day.
My characters ceased being just "characters" long ago. They are real people, and tapping into the energy of their needs and desires shocks me sometimes, challenging my stamina, especially the ones who are deceased, the suicides in particular. Their collective "Why?!" screams at me, and I can stand to think about them for only a short while. Still, I must try and tell some piece of their stories, if only because they are a part of mine.
Causes Monty Heying Supports