The title sounds a bit ominous, however it is true, naturist lives are in the balance and I am the one who will be responsible for all of it. Naturally, I am referring to the latest novel I am writing. It’s not all black and white as I sit in judgment of a number of the characters in the story, there are definitely shades of grey as I ponder the fate of these people who have become part of my world. After all, I am like both a mother and a father for each of these figures, or perhaps some sort of mythological deity who sits blindfolded on a rock holding a scale for the souls of each of my characters.
As I mentioned previously, I have a work-in-progress that features aliens from the planet Azul who are on a secret mission for the United Federation on planet Earth. Somehow, and I don’t take the blame for this, I have what I feel are too many characters in the story, something that might make for the story to be a hard read. As well, their existence might make for a story that becomes too long, too complicated.
So, if I am to rectify this situation, I will have to go back and erase them from the story. I can already hear their protests as if I am like Saint Michael weighing their souls on a balance and condemning some to the flames. It is heart breaking. Yet, what is an author to do?
Coffee is definitely a necessity when engaged in this bloody work. Fire is also a necessity. If I were to print out the story as it now stands, the pages containing the soon to be exorcised characters would be burnt like some heretic in the Spanish Inquisition. What a heartless bastard I must be to be so cruel. Putting my feelings aside, I examine each character like a jeweler studies the precious stones in a shop through the exacting lens of a jeweler’s loupe.
Perhaps I will wait, drink a lot of wine and shed tears for the sacrificed lives that will surely come in the days ahead. Being an author is no trifling matter. After all, their are naturist lives in my story in the balance.