I wrote the death of one of my characters for the first time.
I’ve had them injured, burned, scarred, nearly frozen… I’ve written them in the daze of grief, the shuddering breaths of relief, the silence acceptance of abandonment.
Tonight, I wrote the slow decline of a character gone mad, denied of everything in his life that gave him joy, deprived of even the voice of a one he held above all others.
It was a mixture of memory degradation and visual hallucination. And then, when everything lost all meaning to him, he sighed and gave in.
The final scene required ten minutes of self-pep talk and two chunks of chocolate to begin.
And that’s the first half of my grief. *waves a hand* The second half is a spoiler, but those who stick around to read Phantom Pain (second book) will know it when they see it.
Despite my moping about the end of the night, Ariel and I were very productive: churning out 3600 words for our fanfiction story and another 4000 for PP. It’s been a very intense writing session, which might be the only reason why I was able to write the death as I did. It also means that I need to go sleep before I eat more chocolate and cry into my pillow.
RIP ****. You were sacrificed for the greater good. Maybe someday I’ll be able to make it up to you.
**** says: Go the fuck to sleep!
Me: Yeah, yeah. What? So you can kick my ass?
****: Of course.