Ok, maybe just coffee and words. I do feel like murder, though. I recently (read: yesterday) decided to cut coffee out of my diet. And Coca-Cola. Both of which I love, very much. It was a cruel, tear filled good-bye. Ok, so I’m cheating and I’ve had coffee today and yesterday, but not my regular 1 to 2 pots…just a cup. A single, solitary cup.

This has me wondering if I will be able to focus without coffee. Granted, this is the same wondering I had two years ago when I quit smoking. That nasty devil hops onto your shoulder, whispers into your ear, “You’re not good enough, it was always the [insert object of your addiction here].” But, as I learned then, I will learn now, it’s not the cigarettes, coffee or the Coca-Cola.

It’s the murder. (See, I knew I’d tie back into it.) I write mysteries. Generally they involve a murder. Even when I’m not writing a mystery, generally I write about a death. Why? Because it has always been curious to me, the psychology of a person who willfully commits murder. Also, the reaction to such murders, or deaths, by people who may not have ever intended it. One of my stories involves a woman abused from childhood being brought back to that emotion one night, and in a rage and hallucination, accidentally killing her business partner. She has all the motive in the world, to the police, but it was a true accident. How does she handle it? Do the police consider it a motive? It’s never a question of whodunit, or even whydunit, it’s more a “What’s going to happen?”

Granted, there are other twists and turns (you’ll have to wait for the book to 1. be finished, and 2. get published, to find out what they are) but one of the sub-plot lines is this woman’s struggle. And I enjoy writing these types of plot lines. I feel, after reading one of my stories, you should feel both entertained, and have a deeper connection with not only my characters, but humanity as a whole. And I should be better for writing them.

Otherwise, what am I doing this for? If all I wanted to do was tell stories, there’s a stool at the bar, and plenty of beer on tap.

I have never before come across a character that I actually despised, not one of my own. That is, until tonight. In working on this novel, I realized that one of my characters was going to have to be something that I truly didn’t ever want to have to write, especially as a parent. But, for the emotional toll to be doled out and for the dominoes to fall the way they need to, one of my antagonists has to be a pedophile.

It was difficult writing his scenes, luckily there are only two that reference it directly, and only one that is somewhat detailed. It’s a scene where my antagonist rapes my protagonist. I decided to do the “band-aid” method, and write the two scenes in a marathon session tonight, to get them out of the way so I can move on and enjoy writing the other scenes, without having those two scenes looming over head.

To battle my hatred of this character, I’ve forced myself to flesh him out. He is more than his perversion. He is also a loving brother, and an ambitious employee. I give my reader something to attach themselves to directly after bring forth the perversion. It’s an escape hatch, you understand the guy, you understand what he is, but then you get to focus on other things, focus on his love for his sister, a platonic love, focus on his desire to be the best employee the company has ever seen, hell, you can focus on his love of short, concise sentences, and commanding way of phrasing everything.

How do you handle your antagonists? Have you ever had an antagonist, or even a protagonist, that you absolutely despised?