Interesting, intriguing and compelling characters come to us in unusual ways and often when we’re least expecting them to show up. Whether with a blast into the mind or a whisper in the ear, they are in some way attention-getting. Something about them snags the focus and won’t let go. Not because they’re “all that” but because something about them is magnetic. Real.
If you’re in the middle of a different project (as I was when Penny Crown first appeared in my mind), you try to ignore the interruption. Over the writing years, I learned that when ignoring fails, pause, jot down what about the character won’t back off, put the notes aside and get back to the current work. In over 35 years, that process had, with one exception, worked. So, I had every expectation that it would work this time. It didn’t.
Penny Crown nagged me like a miniature guide on my shoulder. “How much longer? I’m not going to just hang around until you decide to grace me with your presence. I need to tell you my stories before they’re lost forever.”
I’ve been nagged to tell stories by many characters, awakened from sleep by them, been driving down the street and they insisted I pull over. “Write it down now. You’ll forget it, and I will not repeat myself.”
Having forgotten plenty, I’d pull over and write it down. Whatever it happened to be, because sooner or later it proved to be something I would need in the future.
Penny didn’t stop. She pushed and pushed, and the more she did, the more stubbornness set in. I refused to pay attention to her. I heard her in my mind, I imagined her on my shoulder, and even heard her opinions on the projects I was working on at the time. Sometimes her commentary was positive, sometimes it was provoking, but not always. Bottom line, I came to appreciate her insights and views. She became my imaginary friend, so to speak, but not really. This went on for months and months.
When I realized that, it gave me pause. How, why did this woman seem to fire things inside me. Some emotions I’d buried long ago. Some that tugged at philanthropic leanings. Some that after many years still ignited painful truths. Things I wanted to revisit and things I would rather never think of again. Honest things, but uncomfortable, unwelcome things.
From what she revealed of herself, she was a walking contradiction in dozens of ways, and yet there was something raw and honest and genuine about here. It hit me that I really liked her. Why? She was blunt but never cruel. Honest but not judgmental. And the kind of smart that never required her telling you she was smart. You observed her and it was blatantly apparent. Penny loved her husband, was baffled by her teenage daughter who claimed Penny was over-protective when she had always only been invested and determined to help her daughter live her very best life.
Now, too often, it seemed, they were at war. Lisa was at the age of wanting her independence; Penny understood that. But she was her daughter, and Penny had built her life around her family. Did independence mean disassociation? Never in her book. She couldn’t fathom it. Couldn’t believe Lisa could fathom it. Trying to navigate the uncertainty of her role these days, Penny tried, really tried, to be gentle, careful, mindful of her words and actions. She loved her daughter and didn’t want war or even distance between them. She wanted to closeness they’d had. At Lisa’s insistence, they went to counseling. Sometimes Penny thought it might be helping. Other times, not so much.
And then the unthinkable happened… and the life she’d spent decades building was destroyed in the span of a day. Life-altering? No. This went beyond that. And Penny floundered, trying to find her feet, but too numb, too devastated to know where to start.
She had me there. The writer in me couldn’t not see what happened to her, to her family and friends. How would she get through this event? What would change? How would she change?
That’s when NO ONE WAS SUPPOSED TO DIE was born.
In it, seemingly everything changed, but I think those changed parts of Penny Crown were always there. I hadn’t known about them because nothing she’d revealed to me before then had exposed those parts of her. Some of those things might have surprised her, too, but in fairness, in the life she’d lived until then, she’d had no need for them. When the need arose, the changes surfaced. Her journey from the woman she’d been to the woman she was becoming fascinated me, and the way she handled herself in her struggles demanded respect. I gladly gave it. Penny wasn’t perfect. She was human. Doing her best. Succeeding and failing with dignity and without forfeiting her self-respect. I admired her.
When that truth dawned, I decided she needed more books. I had to know how this new life would work out for her. So, I tagged her stories Penny Crown Files. When questions rose about her and her work, she revealed another side of herself I hadn’t seen before. One I couldn’t have expected. It grabbed me.
THE DEAD MAN’S WIFE came to me in a flash. I raced to keep up, following Penny from scene to scene, dodging mud puddles of distractions and anxiety about some of her choices, trying to stay out of her way and focus on being very observant. During the writing, she often left me anxious about what would happen next, about some of her choices (which I felt sure were ones the old Penny would never have made). Bold, dangerous choices, but ones essential to her finding what she needed to know.
That book released today.
Meanwhile, I’m back at my desk. I needed a week to clean off my desk and restore order. Just a week. I’d hoped to get some other work done before diving into another project. But Penny has another file she wants to show me and she’s dropping irresistible clues left and right…
At this point, we all know what that means.
Blessings,
Vicki
