Wednesday, May 25, 2011

WIP Wednesday: Crash

So, if you've been following me on Twitter, you know I've been bitching and whining about my current WIP, Crash, the sequel to Shell. I'm currently 78K in, God only knows what the final wordcount is going to look like, but I'm finally almost-sorta-close-to done. There are lots of problems with it, but I'm hoping to be able to sit down and fix them during revisions.

One of the problems I've been struggling with (though it's a minor one) is the case of my character Vetis. During Shell, it became a running joke between me and my beta that Vetis was gay, mostly because of how he acts towards another one of the guy characters. And as that draft came to a close, I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Vetis was in love with this boy. It never once came up as more than hints, but it was obvious to me.

But as I keep writing him, it becomes really apparent to me that Vetis is really in love with this boy, and I don't know what to do about it. On the one hand, I don't want to boil down his motivations to just being in love. On the other hand, I'm not sure if avoiding this characteristic is good for his character. Back again, it's not essential to the plot, and I'm not sure if it would justify his character to bring this piece of him to light. And back again, he's really, flaming gay.

At the moment, it's not an issue, but I know it might be when I get to the third book.

Either way, here's an excerpt. It's Vetis and another main character discussing Seth. (AKA, Jamie, AKA, Rhamiel, AKA, the boy Vetis is madly in love with.)

“Is he okay?” she asked.

“He’s fine,” Vetis said, grabbing his jacket from the couch and shrugging it on. “Just a little sick.”

Dahlia scuttled forwards. She shot a glance at her coworker before she hissed, “Is it him?”

Vetis stilled for half a beat, his eyes growing distant. Dahlia was hopeful. From the moment Seth stepped into the cafĂ© a change came over Vetis. Vetis, the silent one, the shadow, who came to her gigs to quell his boredom, had completely transformed. He’d approached Seth, something he had never done before as long as Dahlia had known him.

“No,” he said at last. “It’s not him.”

Dahlia’s shoulders slumped. “Who is he?” she whispered. She wanted to go on, to say, you never act like this. But she didn’t dare push it. Not on these rare moments when he spoke to her.

“A friend,” Vetis said, meeting her stare with his own. “A very old friend.”

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