In Mourning

Today I was supposed to continue the dissection of Philippians 4:8. But I have no heart for it, because today I’m in mourning: for the first time since I started writing seriously, about seven years ago, a secondary character I liked died.

I never intended for her to die, or I never would have allowed myself to become so attached to her. The plan in my mind called for her to accompany my main character all the way to the novel’s end. Maybe even find a boyfriend along the way.

Then she unexpectedly got hurt, and it became apparent that she was dying. That couldn’t be! She had other things to do! I quickly constructed a hundred scenarios where she does not die, or at the very least resurrects. An ally comes to the rescue. The wounds aren’t as bad as they first appear. A miracle of healing occurs. But nothing worked, and in the end she still died.

It’s not fair. That wasn’t the way the story was supposed to go. How could this happen?

Anyone who thinks writers control their characters is crazy.