Friday, July 25, 2008
No exit but one
When you kill a character you love it is awful, a loss of self and hope and promise and delight. You want to ask forgiveness of something; you want to believe you can still go back and make the words disappear. But that choice doesn’t really exist. If you’ve done your work right you’ve already tried to let that person escape, through any and every door, and found at last that they’re all locked, and locked for a reason. You’ve locked them yourself—or the story has, if you prefer. That’s no solace, though. The character won’t ever dance with you again.