We have a treat for you today, on this week's #WritingStrong blog! Guest author Jericho "J.S." Wayne has invited us into his world of character conversations! Thanks for joining us on FauphTalk Fiction!
When I started writing, I had no idea characters could be so damned stubborn. I’d have a great, grand Evil Scheme all cued up and ready to go…
“Wait. No! Stop! Where are you going?!?”
“Dude. Your plan’s lame and boring. I want to go here and do this instead.”
“But…my plan! What about my outline?”
“Don’t go all Kanye West on me, Felicia. We can get back to your lame-ass plan if you really, really insist after we check out the really cool, sick, intelligent thing I’m doing over here.”
“Okay, look. We can negotiate. You be a good character and do the thing I need you to be doing now, and then we can take that side trip and you can do whatever the hell you like. Cool?”
“Nah, Mr. Wayne, you got that whole thing exactly backward. You see, we can either do this my way, or I can fuck off and sit in a corner making funny faces at you while your deadline ticks closer until you get on board or magick up some super-special extra-cool way of breaking the impasse. Is that what you want?”
“You’re such a dick. You do realize I’m the writer, right? I mean, you KNOW I can erase you, everything and everyone you’ve ever known, loved or cared about, your entire world and your whole shitty universe in a few dozen keystrokes, right?”
“How very Old Testament of you. ‘My creations are making me mad, so I’m going to burn the whole sonofabitch down and start all over.’”
“In all fairness, you’re not giving me very many options here. I have an outline, see? This, right here. ‘Main character goes to the watchtower to talk to the Head Warden about 2SC’s disappearance.’ There’s a plan. We call it a plan because you’re supposed to STICK to it.”
“Yawn. How tedious. The Head Warden knows exactly fuck-all, and you and I both know it. You’re just wearing out my boots and running me all over this stupid town to screw with readers’ heads. I can go to the tavern, ask the goblin behind the bar what she knows, have a couple of pints and be way more likely to find out what I need to know. Besides, the Head Warden is probably already there.”
“No, he isn’t. I KNOW he isn’t because I literally just left him writing a lengthy parchment report to Queen Yseult about the rash of manure wagons mysteriously tipping over and the sudden upswing in the number of nobles found choked to death on cowshit.”
“Heh. Yeah. That was a good one. And those nobles totally had it coming, Boss. Still, I say the tavern is a better idea. Hey! Think you can write in a nymph stripper?”
“No! I’m not writing in a nymph stripper just because you don’t want to do your job and would rather ogle tits.”
“So how come you get to look at tits at will and I have to go see the Head Warden?”
“Grrrrraaaaaagh! Because I’M. THE. WRI. TER. WRITER. As far as you’re concerned, I’m God and you do what I say you do!”
“But you have to admit, this book’s getting kinda grim. A nymph stripper or two would really liven things up—”
“Ask me about a nymph stripper again. I dare you.”
“And what happens then?”
“I’ll write in a troll. In a studded leather banana hammock. Who thinks YOU look like just his type and doesn’t handle rejection well, get my drift?”
“Gulp…Um. S—s—so, hey, I hear the Head Warden might know something.”
“Stop looking so pale and focus. I only said that as an illustration of why fucking with me is a poor long-term survival strategy. He may know, or he may not. But YOU won’t know unless you get your ass to the watchtower and find out. Savvy?”
“So—if I do this thing, then can I go to the tavern?”
“Yeah. Talk to the Head Warden and then you can go to the tavern.”
“Will there be a str—um, yeah. I hear that look on your face loud and clear. Going, see? Going, going, gone.”
“Asshole,” I mutter.
Born in Amarillo, Texas, Jericho “J.S.” Wayne has lived, worked, and traveled in approximately three quarters of the North American continent, amassing a résumé which could kindly be described as “eclectic” along the way. Currently he lives in Portland, Oregon and feels no particular urge to be anywhere else.
An author in multiple genres, a misanthropic humanitarian and cynical optimist, J.S. spends most of his time when not writing erotic romance turning words into money as a website designer, SEO/SEM consultant and article and blog writer, filling the balance of his hours as a polyamorous kink practitioner and educator. He is fascinated by the use of language, human sexuality, occultism, quantum physics and trying to figure out just what the hell the lyrics to “I Am the Walrus” actually mean. He enjoys receiving mail and comments from his fans, and invites you to follow him on Twitter or simply email him at firstname.lastname@example.org!