Driving to work the other day, I had the radio on. This is very normal as is my allowing scenes to flow through my head while listening to music. However what happened the other day took me by surprise. I know my novel is a bit dark with deep themes involving why we allow people to manipulate us into harming ourselves and motivations for such behavior, but watching my main character sacrifice himself brought me to tears.

He is not an overtly sympathetic character but after living with him for so long, I love him like a child. He is a child. And to know that he will reach the point in his life where living is no longer an option troubles me greatly. I do not want him to die. Not by choice, not by violence, not by any means. I want his ending to be happy.

Its not meant to be. I know that. I’ve always known that from the first instant he wandered into my psyche and took up residence. My only consolation is that his death is not without reason but I’m reluctant to continue writing because, as silly as it sounds, I don’t want to lose him.

Oh silly writer is silly, ne?