I have sooo many casts of characters in my head. They all live in different universes and have different stories, and for the most part two different genres. I have a slew of contemporary fantasy stories in my brain. I’ve got one about psychics I don’t really bring up much. I have a couple of different cyber-punk casts. Even a high-fantasy-meets-steampunk group of characters. And the people who live in my Apathy’s Hero universe.

But there’s one cast of characters I fixate on even more than my angels, Greek heroes, and Norse gods. They were my first. The first characters I tried to write into a novel. The first novel I wrote. They’ve grown and evolved so much since then. That was high school (I almost did the math, it almost made me cry, so I’m not going to say how many years ago that was). I’ve matured, they’ve matured, they’re adults now though they didn’t grow up as fast as I did. Somehwere along the way they managed to find a way to stay 28 eternally. #jealous

Here’s the thing, way back then I knew their story. It was gripping, and dramatic and it was a love story. That’s all it was. Childhood friends realizing how much they love each other through the perils of life and general overall existence and cheating boyfriends.

Then I told someone my idea, and they said “And…?”

I said “And what?”

They said “It’s just a love story? There’s not a character arc, there’s no other trauma the characters have to deal with?”

And I said “Of course there is. Her boyfriend cheated on her with her bestfriend who’s pregnant now, and her childhood friend just confessed his love. That’s traumatic.”

They said “There’s no drug addiction or screaming parents or suicidal depression or anything like that?”

That was the point where I abandoned the story. I mean, not completely. Not at first. I tried to give them all these deep-seated flaws. And I succeeded. One of them became an alcoholic because his father put too much pressure on him. One of them was sexually abused by an uncle who kept her family in the ranks of upper-middle class as a bribe. One of them had image issues and almost killed her self by mistake with diet and sleeping pills. One was a gay football player. And one actually did kill themself.

Yay! I had three dimensional characters and I could write these people I loved into such a tramatic story that everyone else would weep for them.

Ever try and fit that much trauma into one book, and focus on all of it?

But I’ve continued to try. Two years ago, for NaNo, I figured out how to make the story work. I’d grow the characters up, I’d put some of their flaws in the past where they belonged, and give them a very new drama to share. Hostile takeover sounds dramatic, right?

And I wrote it. And I struggled to eek out 50,000 words, and I managed. And Holy Wow. It was boring when I was done. I don’t know how many of you are familiar with the way the computer and legal industry work, but it doesn’t actually play out much like ‘The Social Network’.

Which came out right after I finished my first draft. Right when I was deciding how to fix my story. I love that movie. Not that that’s related. Not completely.

Late last week I sat down to try and fix this story. I already know that what I wrote two years ago is all backstory. It gets scrapped, more or less. But…I started outlining, and suddenly I knew how it all worked. I’ve never written an outline like this before. Every chapter had plot points, tension, character arc, all that good kind of stuff.

And when I got done outlining, I had to make a confession. And I think if I had been able to make this confession 10 years ago, this might have been easier, but where would the learning process be in that case? This isn’t contemporary fiction with a deep-seated message about corporate culter and the strength of women. It’s not literary and profound and stunning. It won’t change the world. (At least, I assume as much).

It’s a love story. A romance. A story of childhood friends realizing how much they love each other through the perils of life and general overall existence and well-intentioned but jealous best friends.

I’ve still got insider trading charges, a hostile takeover, and an intellectual property lawsuit. But since I don’t write thrillers or crime dramas, those aren’t my story. I’m finally okay with the idea that the relationship can be the primary plot and the rest is allowed to drive that. It won’t kill me, and will probably actually make me happier, if I allow this to be a romance novel.

Now, in two weeks when I’m at 50k words and don’t know how the last 1/4 of the book goes, I may not feel the same way. I may want to jab an ice pick in my skull and never write romance again. But…I would <3 to finally write this story, and give these characters the next step in life they deserve. Does anyone else struggle for a solid story to place their beloved characters in?