Tell Me Your Name

How am I supposed to write about anything other than my WIP right now, when it is the only thing taking up space in my brain?  During NaNo19 I only updated on the writing process once a week, but here I am with blog number 2 about it, because I am consumed.

Today, I plan to write my first ever character death.

Ok, that’s part lie.  In my novella, the grandmother dies, but it is of natural causes and shown through flashback, and you kind of know she’s gone right off the bat.  And in Dog’s Eye View, well…I guess you’d have to read it to decide.  (See what I did there?  You should read it.  I’ve been advised you will need tissues, though.)

I’ve never outright killed a character, though.

My characters are always the roots of the story.  They are the thing that comes to me first: a being calling out to have their story told, and I oblige.  I planned out many characters for my current WIP, more than I have ever worked with before, but each serving a purpose.  One came to me from nowhere a few days ago, shouting “hey!  I’m a background guy, but I can do SO MUCH MORE.”  And so, Samir Nammari was born.  I would like to write about him to illustrate how the characters first develop in my head.

Mr. Nammari was originally named Mr. Tehan, from a name generator that told me it was an Arabic last name.  Further research showed many sites saying it was an American Arabic name.  This family is straight out of Palestine, so I needed something better: cue Sahar, of course, offering to me her mother’s maiden name, classic Palestinian.  And she also offered some first names, and I chose Samir.  I don’t usually name my characters, they name themselves, but there was no necessity for a first name in planning so he never told me his (and yes, I am well aware how crazy that sounds.).  Then, Monday, he started screaming at me, so I looked though the list of names and he yelled “SAMIR!”

Turns out, Samir means “friend.”  And that is what he became, friend to my main characters (MCs) and helper in their plot.  But now, he must die.

It will be sad, and painful.  Gunned down on a beach at dusk, in an effort to save the MCs.  Leaving behind a loving wife and a dutiful daughter.  I didn’t know he would die when I started telling his tale, and I was as surprised as a reader would be when I discovered it was his only exit.  I wrote about the magic on Monday…that is part of it, the unexpected moments that suddenly manifest in your mind.

So, I bid you adieu, Mr. Nammari, and thank you for your assistance.

Now, I am off to write the death scene, my first.  I’d like to write more about character development but I’m already trying to type without my pinky much because it hurts today and would really like to drop 1000 words in tribute to Samir at some point.

Happy Thursday.