A happy moment? In the MIDDLE of the book? How ghastly! Happy is for the end, or maybe the beginning, but the middle? Really?
Am I a wuss? A sap? Does this writer's heart bleed too profusely for his characters? Do their constant dilemmas and turmoil tug too tautly upon the strings of my heart? Have I burdened their souls to the point that I feel obliged to make reparations? Am I seeking redemption for the woes I've cast upon them?
And it's genuine nonetheless! Not contrived. Not obligatory. It's not feel-good for feel-good's sake. We're talking sincere, not counterfeit here. And a little thing it was too, but crucial.
Wait a minute. Did I say crucial? Why would such a brief, happy moment experienced by such a minor character in the middle of the book be crucial, I wonder. My sweet muse breaks into a sly, little grin. She knows. And she's watching me piece it together.
"Ah yes, I think I see now," mutters the newly enlightened writer in me. This isn't about the now elated Terrin at all! It's not about pleasing him. It's not about him being pleased. It's about revealing character--Daaron's character.
'Attaboy, Daaron, my little protagonist. Show these characters who you really are. You keep on growing, evolving, maturing. You're doing this writer--and his muse--proud.
A little darling that pulls her weight! Nice.
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