The Story Equivalent of Dropping Mentos into a Bottle of Coke.

Right now, as well as (still) looking for a summer job, I’m taking a writing course. I signed up for it basically as soon as finals were over, which earned me an incredulous look from my mother, but I don’t mind. Why? Aside from the fact that I absolutely love learning things at all times and will actually go and research topics that interest me if I’ve gone too long without learning something new, I knew I needed something to help me out with my writing. Not that it’s unspeakable horrible (unless I have really, really nice friends who are also much better at acting than they let on), but that it hasn’t really been flying. It’s more like slogging through thigh-high mud while wearing shorts and flippers that are at least two sizes too big. No, not mud. Slime. Nasty, green slime like the stuff that floats on the top of a lake or pond that has way too much algae in it. That slime. But now I’m fixating.

While I getting ready to work on one of my lessons, I started thinking about Main Character and that I needed to know more about her because she was really lacking in the motivation department. Remember, in my first post, how she was being snarky with me and wouldn’t cooperate? While that was, um, lovely, she didn’t have enough motivation to keep up with it even as I slapped together a very sloppy version of what she was demanding. Then my thoughts wandered to the assignment for a previous lesson where I made what is basically a map of all the things that are the most important to me, and I wondered if I just needed to look at it and see what applied to her. Then I thought about the map itself.

‘Monsters,’ I said to myself. ‘Monsters are everywhere…’

Mentos in Coke.

As my brain was fizzing out of control, I realized that adding monsters to the story had done wonders. But I’m understating. The story EXPLODED. I’m still understating. There is no word in the English language capable of properly explaining the intensity of expansion the coolness factor of my story underwent. Or the amount of monsters. When I say monsters are now everywhere, I really do mean it. All kinds. All of various nastiness…es.

First, this insane cult leader that I thought was dead came back, leading his army of monsters created by the chaotic power of magical storms. He then proceeded to make much war on all the people in my story. Mystery Character (Villain) grew an antisocial personality disorder and did really evil things in tandem with the crazy cult leader. Insignificant Character grew a spine and is now a wonderful person I am very glad to have included in the story. That fluffy little subplot involving people keeling over is now SO important to the story I’m surprised I didn’t think of it sooner. The changes were so absolutely mind-blowing that even MSC’s fabulous burrito could not keep him from not only paying attention but also getting up and involved with all the enormously awesome stuff that was going on all around him. It was like fireworks on the scale of H-bombs going off everywhere in my head at once. It was wonderful.

But I was worried. Main Character now needed motivation even more than she needed to be able to breathe. Absolutely every single one of her worst nightmares were not just rearing their heads. They were running full-tilt in her direction, carrying the deadliest weapons they could. If she did not motivation, she would find herself living in her own, personal, devastating hell for the rest of her life. Never mind death, guys. Death would be unicorns and rainbows compared to this. Death would be so far off the radar she wouldn’t even be able to consider it as an escape.

I was scared. Terrified, deep down to the marrow of my bones. This is the best story I have ever worked on. Main Character is like my other half. There was no way I could bear it if she got crushed under the weight. She had come so believably, so wonderfully alive in my mind over this past while that to lose her to her own story would be akin to watching, helpless, while my best friend bleeds to death from a slashed jugular. What was I going to do? It was all up to her. And, as I was frozen with fear, this is what she said to the hordes of every dark thing she had ever feared coming at her to destroy every good thing in her life until even the memories were gone:

“Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing here? If you don’t get your asses out of my life, I am going to rain such terror on you that you will wish you had never been born!”

Yeah. I wish others could witness what’s going on in my head sometimes, because I wanted to stand up and yell “That’s MY character!” at the top of my lungs, like parents yell out “That’s MY kid!” when their son or daughter has done something spectacular in public. But I was in my room. Alone. And I was also a little too stunned to really think much.

It was one of the happiest moments of my life. I don’t care that it’s still a long shot before I finish the story. I don’t care that I had to throw my outline right out the window and I have to start over with it. I don’t care that I haven’t the slightest idea how Main Character is going to come out on top. All I know is that my story absolutely freaking rocks and I am ecstatic to keep writing it.

That’s all.


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