I’ve had a bit of a breakthrough this week with my writing. Not with my assignment that was due on Friday, the lecturer gave us all a week extension, so of course I’m still in procrastination mode with that one! My breakthrough if with my (not so) short story that I had hit a wall with.
Sometimes when you come up against a wall in your writing and some type of barrier is preventing you from exploring your characters and story further, you need to get yourself a big ol’ metaphorical sledgehammer and break down that barrier in your mind. If you keep on hitting away at the barrier, usually you will eventually have a breakthrough where the words begin to flow again and you start to unravel the complexity of your characters. This is what happened to me this week, I’m in the process of discovering just how complex these two characters really are, particularly my female lead. At this point the characters are still known as ‘he’ and ‘she’ and perhaps it will stay that way. The story is told by both main characters, with each character telling the story in sections from their own perspective. We have a man who never felt love as a child and has searched for someone for him to love and to love him in return. He has found that in a woman who experienced nothing but abuse and false love as a child and had shut herself off from the world as a means of self-preservation. It wasn’t until they met each other that the world came alive again for her and he experienced what it felt like to love and be loved in return.
Yes, it’s another ‘love story’ but there can never be too much love in the world! The timeline of their story is over several years and looks at the impact of both of their pasts and the darkness of it that can not always be kept at bay.
I have a little bit to share with you today. remember this work is raw and unedited and is only a first draft.
Enjoy and May the Fourth Be With You,
When I first saw him, I hated him with every inch of my being. He was the one threatening my isolation, which I so strongly desired. Yet for some reason I felt drawn to him, he didn’t ask too many questions, which was something I liked. He would simply say, “Hello” and give me a sweet, crooked smile. He would speak only when he had to and each shift was spent working side by side mostly in silence. It wasn’t until one evening that he didn’t come in for his shift that I realised how much being near him comforted me. He was sick apparently and without him there working silently next to me I became anxious and edgy and found it difficult to concentrate on doing my job. I dropped things, tripped over boxes and was so completely uncoordinated that the shop owner’s daughter wondered if I was coming down with whatever he had. I realised that I had come to rely on his present, I was beginning to depend on him and I hated myself for that. I had spent so long and worked so hard at trying to isolate myself from the outside world, that the thought of relying on another person angered me. Yet the thought of living without seeing him was becoming unbearable. It was stupid, I barely even knew him, sure we spent every night together for the past three months, but we weren’t exactly sharing every little detail of our lives. I knew his name and I knew he was well-mannered, I also somehow knew he understood my silence.
When he didn’t show up to work the next day, I stupidly found myself looking up his address in the staff contact files and before I knew it I was walking towards his flat and knocking on his door. When the door opened and I found myself looking into his eyes, I didn’t know what to say, I just stood there staring at him for what seemed like an awkwardly long time before he invited me in. I entered his flat without saying a word, he spoke first, “Are you checking up on me?” I remember him saying with the hint of a laugh in his voice, I didn’t want to tell him that I needed him and felt comforted being near him so instead I told him that I was just checking to make sure he was ok and that the shop owner had sent me over to see if he would be working that night. He invited me to sit down and made us some tea and in that moment something changed, we talked for hours, I did most of the talking. Told him almost everything about myself, where I was from, my time in foster care and my time on the streets, but I didn’t tell him about the deepest of the darkness in my past. I felt so comfortable talking to him, it felt good to let someone in. I remember the feeling of contentment that washed over me as I told him about myself and he didn’t go running in the opposite direction. He said we were the same person, that he too had been bounced around from foster home to foster home before he turned 18 and was forced to make his own way in the world. I also remember that he was glad that I had stopped by. I also remember telling him that I missed him. The words had come out before I could stop them, before I could even consider them. He had smiled his crooked smile and said that he had missed me too.
How I wish I could get back that feeling, the feeling of happiness, contentment and comfort I got from being with him, from knowing that he understood me. Now everything is changing and I hate him for that. I have to make things go back to the way that they were, I have to do something. I can change it, he doesn’t know yet. I can fix this and pretend it never happened and things can go back to the way they were.
© Katherine A. Kovacs and The Writer Within, (2013-2015). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Katherine A. Kovacs and The Writer Within with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.