Am I Being Too Mean to My Villains?

About two months ago, I handed the fifth-draft copy of the upcoming Faerietales Book 4: Wing and Dagger to a certain influential individual in my life, figuring she could have fun reading it while I waited for my way-too-savvy editor to savage the thing.

Since the person in question is the whole reason why I wrote another installment in the series, I figured she’d be happy. And she was.

I think?

The reason why I’m not so sure is because she talked less about the aspects she liked and more about how, in the first three chapters, I’d been so mean to two particular characters.

Out of all of the possible criticisms I could have gotten, I never saw that one coming. Which was probably stupid considering her past reactions to how I’ve treated previous villains.

Yup, I said villains. The two characters she was upset about are bad guys. Unrepentant ones too. Martin was in Not So Human, where he pushed Sabrina to her literal snapping point, and Ryan was a manipulative little liar who tried to mess with her head in To Err Is Faerie.

Neither of them were main antagonists. But they certainly weren’t nice or good or likable.

Which means I don’t understand feeling bad for them. I didn’t throw them to crocodiles (which, admittedly, they don’t have in Scotland). I didn’t even have anyone beat them up, which they would have deserved considering how they’re still willingly employed by the HPAC.

All I did was make them think Sabrina was going to kill them. And in the creative world, that’s low-key. Practically chick-lit material, really.

If you want “mean,” how about having your protagonist track down his wife and daughter’s killers, inject them with paralyzing drugs and then saw them into pieces while they’re still alive?

I’m not making that up. I actually hope I couldn’t make it up, since it’s a level of disgusting I don’t care to dwell on.

(Never watch a movie just because it has a pretty face and form in it. Even Gerard Butler might not be able to make up for the rest of what you’re in for.)

I also can’t stand burning characters – villains or otherwise – or permanently disfiguring them in any other way, shape or form. If you want that kind of stuff, go read or watch Game of Thrones.

All of this is to say that I do think you can be too mean to your villains. However, I don’t think I crossed that line.

If I ever have, Ii can guarantee it’s my heroes who’ve suffer the worst. 

If I Was a Faerie

If I was a faerie, I’d pretty much be Sabrina, my main character in “Not So Human.” Unlike her, I’d have short, curly brown hair and brown eyes, but that’s about where our differences would end.

The rest of the comparison checklist matches up pretty darn well, since we both:

·         Are sarcastic (sometimes) to a fault

·         Have a silly habit of falling for either short moody men, or tall delusional types who think they know everything

·         Crave life beyond our dead-end jobs and ridiculous coworkers

·         Thinks bangers and mash are one of the finest food concoctions ever devised

·         Have found internet dating to be more problematic than it’s worth

I’d also be up for having bright green wings. Frankly, I don’t see why anyone wouldn’t.

So yeah, if I was a faerie, I’d totally be Sabrina. In which case, I have to say I’m really, really happy I’m not one.

Because as awesome as it would be to have those wings, travel to Scotland and meet tall delusional types with gorgeous accents, I don’t think it’d be worth all the drama that comes with those perks.

As I mentioned last month, “Not So Human” briefly began along an autobiographical bent, hence the reason why our characters are so very similar. Yet considering the chaos that follows Sabrina around, I’d say it’s clear she became her own distinctive character along the way.

If that wasn’t true – if she was me – let me tell you, I would have written a much kinder storyline than I did. It’d be all moonlit flights and strolls through Edinburgh and, yes, bangers and mash.

So basically, not a story worth reading.

Proving, I guess that boring really can be best when it comes to real life.

Not So Human

On Monday, I promised I’d talk more about my upcoming novel, Not So Human, the first installment of my Faerietales series. (And yes, I know I spelled “Faerietales” incorrectly. It was on purpose.)

As the title implies, the story is about someone who isn’t nearly as normal as she thinks she is. She’s in fact – *GASP!* – a faerie.

I know. You totally didn’t see that one coming, right?

The story actually started out autobiographical in nature. You see, once upon a time, I was working a temp job where I had about fifteen minutes worth of tasks each morning, and then pretty much nothing else to do for my remaining eight hours and fifteen minutes there.

Don’t ask me why they needed a temp in the first place. It was an utter waste of their money.

It also isn’t my idea of a good time. Neither is listening to coworkers who constantly joke about inane sexual stuff, like using animal crackers as condoms. I kid you not.

But moving on…

My boredom and disgust pushed me to start writing about a 24-year-old college grad stuck in a dead-end temp job with coworkers who could put Spencer’s gifts to shame. And somehow or another, my story took off from there, landing squarely in the fantasy realm.

Here’s the recap:

Sabrina might not care for everything about herself, but she’s still fairly used to being a human, an orphan and an everyday average American. However, her life changes forever the day she’s followed home by four men in dark suits and sinister shades. A crash-course in reality reveals that she’s actually a faerie princess, with a royal family in Scotland and some particularly brutal enemies hunting her down in the U.S.

Fleeing the country doesn’t solve her problems though. It only adds to them. With her new tiara to try on for size and a potential romance that seems bound to go badly before it begins, Sabrina still has to stay one wing ahead of the Human Preservation and Advancement Committee. Which has made its mission to ruin her life. Permanently.

And here's the working cover. I know it's a bit blurry, but this is the general idea:

An Anglophile I’m Apparently Not

There are so many great ways to start out a blog. I’m sure of it. And as a published author and an avid writer, I should automatically have some brilliant opening line.

I’ll admit, however, that I don’t. Maybe because it’s so much easier to begin a book about fictional characters than it is to talk about myself. That’s probably what comes of being an introvert at heart. I’m a great listener, but for heaven’s sake, don’t make me carry on a conversation by myself!

So since I have a natural allergy to being the center of attention, I’ll shove one of my books-to-be into the spotlight instead.

Brilliant wallflower strategy, I know.

Last week, I sent in one of my upcoming manuscripts to an editor in Scotland. Why would an American author be sending her work to a Scottish editor, you might ask?

Easy answer: My series, Faerietales, starts out in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, and quickly progresses to Glasgow, Scotland. Being the perfectionist that I am, I want to make sure to get the language and setting correct. Sure, I studied abroad in England for a semester and got to travel to both Glasgow and Edinburgh (two of my absolute favorite cities) while I was there…But let’s face it, a week’s worth of tourism does not a cultural expert make.

I’ll talk more about Faerietales – the first of which, Not So Human, is due out next month – in upcoming posts. Right now, however, I want to focus on my Scottish editor. He’s wonderful, just for the record, and I really appreciate his paid-for insights. However, I have to admit that I felt dreadfully ethnocentric when I got his edits back this weekend…

You see, in my head, there are the English, the Scottish, the Irish and the Welsh. They’re all (with the exception of the Republic of Ireland) part of the United Kingdom, also known as Great Britain. I know all of that. Seriously.

Yet somehow, when I hear “British,” I think of English-only. They’re synonymous in my book.

Apparently they shouldn’t be.

Oops.

Hopefully I can redeem myself when I send in the (potentially) last installment of the series next month.