I just finished writing my dear, sweet William’s first kill. It was exhausting and draining and completely heartbreaking, but necessary. A battle of 721 words, soundtracked mainly by Clint Mansell’s “Requiem For A Dream” and concluding with my little William, barely a man, embracing the battle and the soldier he’s been trained to become.
I’ve thought a great deal about how it would happen, why it would happen. I’ve known it was coming for quite some time, but been especially focused on it since I started writing this portion of his story. I’ve never written a war before and my fight scenes have been very limited. I’m sure this one will need quite a bit of editing, but it’s there, on paper. And it’s only the beginning. This is the beginning of a long book about war and the way it and the powers he was born with change him into the man he will one day be, the man I have always known him to be. I look forward to watching his transformation, though I know much of it will be painful, because we all must suffer to become what we are meant to be. When adversity strikes, we either rise to the occasion or crumble under the pressure. William will rise—I know he must because I have seen his future—but I worry for him and the struggles he will face, both those I have seen and those I have yet to discover. I only hope that when he does come through it all, that his story will be worth reading. That you, dear readers, will be changed by it even a fraction as much as I have been. This is all a writer can hope for, to make some small impact on the world as we share the lives and stories that live within us whether they torment us or bring us joy.
And now, I must sleep and give my muse a rest because she is spent and I will need her more in the coming days.