Caitlin.
Clancy Farquhar.
Lady Emeralda Smart.
Cirencester Bloom.
Walpole E. Epstein.
Lycralad.
Reg the Vampire.
Gerald.
Wendy Windways.
Agnes Ontario.
And others…
Ten different characters, each with a totally different story. Some crossover, and appear in another’s story; some appear only once, never to be seen again. And some simply provide their name, never to return…
But, when I write about these characters, I have to wonder who it is that is steering their tale.
I have a feeling that it’s the characters themselves. They come to life when I write about them, and stop me in my tracks if I want them to do something they don’t want to do, or simply just wouldn’t do.
“I’m not like that”, they’d say, or something similar.
I’d like them to walk down a hill – they end up racing along a river in a speedboat.
I want them to silently watch on – they don’t – I think, can’t – stay silent.
I have an idea for a story… they have other ideas.
Characters.
Should they be free, or simply be puppets?
I’d prefer freedom myself.
If I was a character.
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