There is something that we ponder, over and over again, that is… are we our main character or is it its own entity? I’ve often pondered this myself with the creation of Angelica and Doria in both of the novels in FIGS, and I thought this would make for an interesting discussion.
You see when us writers decide to sit down and develop a story we think about our point of view, it plays a huge role in your perception. It’s almost like taking the camera and deciding just what we want you to see. Do we want you to see from our eyes outwards or by looking down from above?
It’s interesting. It’s almost like playing a mind game with you. You’re the reader and we’re speaking directly to you through our stories, but what happens with our main characters? If we’re writing in the first person, does this mean that we become them in order to tell an amazing story?
If so, what is the reflection that it has on how our readers perceive us as the writer?
There are so many risks that are being taken when we write stories from the first person point of view, and as of lately I’ve been telling myself to begin giving more third-person stories in order to diversify the focalization.
I can share that my mother has often been called and asked, “Is Sierra, okay?” And, I myself wonder, “what do they think of me?” It comes with the task of being an amazing writer. I think if I didn’t evoke that reaction out of you then I didn’t do my job.
But, to answer your question, I like to think of my main characters as my best friends. You know your best friend, through and through. You know this favorite person so well that you can tell their story because it becomes your own after you’ve been talking to them for hours on end.
I like to think that my main characters are voices who aren’t my own, rather, they have their own stories to tell. No matter the culture, ethnicity, age, or perspective, I like to be distant from them in that I just share what wants to be shared. (That might sound creepy, but it’s the best metaphor that I have for you)
When I wrote Angelica, I only saw the scenes of her diary, not that I was there. I mean, of course, it sounds like me because I wrote it, but when I envisioned the scenes it was as if I was standing in the corner of a room watching everything happen. It was an amazing phenomenon and it was how I was able to get the descriptions down to a tee, but no… I am not Angelica. I am Sierra.
I love to write stories about the insane, the twisted at heart, the dysfunctional, the lost, the lonely, the sad, and bereaved but I am none of them or any of those things.
Does that make my novels a bit creepier?
I don’t know… you tell me.
Categories: Recent On Essays