Today, while walking across my school’s campus, he came to me- a character. From where, I do not know, but I now have this fictional person swimming around in my brain looking for his place in the world. This is my project for spring break- to write his story.
Here is what I know so far about Ethan:
-he is in his late twenties/possibly early thirties
-he lives in rural Maine
-he is a lobsterman
-he once was a successful businessman in New York, but moved away after his wife hung herself in their bathroom
-he is 6′ 3″ and weighs about 240 pounds
-he has a dog named Priscilla
-he has a license to hunt moose
-he owns a shotgun
-he has a beard
-he drives an old Chevy pickup truck
-he doesn’t talk much, and isn’t very social
-his closest neighbor lives two miles down the road. She is a woman, Frances, a writer who comes to Maine for peace and quiet.
-he might be going crazy
When I think about Ethan, this is what I see: jeans and plaid, a down vest and heavy boots, carrying logs for the wood-burning stove, a dog following him.
So….this is my jumping-off point. It’s so bizarre how a story will come to you- in the most random and useless of pieces, until you sit down to write. You end up banging out this terrible shit that seems okay at the time, but when you put it in a drawer and dig it up a month later you have to sift through a pile of crap to find the few points that really shine. And you work from there. Or at least, that’s how it’s been with me.
I’m anxious to explore this character, this Ethan. What does he want? What drives him? What does he eat for breakfast? Does he eat the blueberries that grow on bushes around his house? What did he do in New York? How did he meet his late wife? I carved out tomorrow evening to just sit and write it all out, as much as I can, until there’s nothing left to say. Really looking forward to that.
In other news, marbled banana bread! It’s my latest love. I used carob powder to make the dark batter and coconut flour in the light batter- outstanding. Totally on the menu again for tomorrow, and I’m thinking of bringing some to my writers group on Friday, but I’m afraid of being “that weird girl that always has baked goods to hand out”…or something. Bah, I set a time limit for procrastination, and it has just been reached.
So that’s my goodbye.