Slaughtering the Scene

 Beware: the following contains the dark humours of a writer and should only be taken somewhat seriously.

 

The really tricky part about killing off a character is that, once you've killed them the wrong way, it's hard to bring them back and do it right. 

It's not like you can ask someone how to fix it, because that would spoil their demise and make it altogether less effective the second time around. 

 

 

Killing off a character is between you and that character. No one else should be involved, for I think the writer does their best killing when they think they are doing something wicked and unexpected.

But how do you kill a character right the second time around when you don't think you did it right the first time? They already feel so flimsy now that you've killed them. It's hard to write about them again now that they're already dead. Besides, haven't they already suffered enough through their first poorly done slaying? 

These are the types of questions only a writer has to worry about. These are the types of things that, when asked what we are thinking, we likely wouldn't share, instead choosing to vouch for a nice simple answer such as "not much", another way of saying"nothing all that alarming".

One would think the writer would laugh maliciously to themselves as they do the deed. I don't think I did.

In fact, this character has been dead for over a year now, and strangely I found the first time a breeze. I killed them off quickly last spring, then proceeded to move on without much thought as to what I'd just done. The aftermath is always the most unexpected. That is when you get to see what their death entails. 

 

 

I spent all of last night editing that death scene, trying to make it something a reader would find satisfying. By the end of it all I was almost as great a mess as the scene I was trying to fix. I felt a bit like a surgeon leaving incisions and stitches in all sorts of ugly places, transplanting paragraphs just to find them faulty and cut them out again. 

As it turns out, slaughtering scenes takes a lot less skill that killing characters, and satisfying readers is difficult when you feel like a clumsy killer. 

 

The truth is, I've had spontaneous deaths turn out better than this one. 

But those characters were practically asking for a good death scene, and admittedly, this one didn't deserve any of this. 

Sometimes the only way to get it right is to write all the wrong ways first. Somewhere in that bloody mess the writer comes across a good phrase or a detail that makes it all work in a very simple and straightforward way. 

 

What can I say. Writing is not always an art; sometimes it's a slaying. And all I can do when a night spent editing poorly is through is wash my hands of it and go to bed.

To the Character I Had Killed Off

Dear Deceased Character,

 

I don't know why I had you killed off. Perhaps your time was simply over. Perhaps I was simply bored. 

I admit, you bothered me a little. Your practices disturbed me. I think the story will be better off without you, if somewhat less interesting. 

I must also confess that I killed you off on a whim. I guess you bothered me more than I thought you did. If it helps, you were probably going to die sooner or later. I think that much we both knew. You were a frail creature, and I never liked you. 

You were so pesky, such a persistent nuisance to me and to others. I don't think the reader will miss you. In fact, I think they'll feel a lot better now that you're gone. Even if other things continue to go wrong, they'll have that solace.  

 

Even though you're dead, you're vivid to me still. Your face is one I see clearly. Where other's are sometimes blurry, your face shines through. 

Don't worry, I won't give you away. I won't spoil your ending; won't go so far as to describe the features of your face and deem you recognizable. Who knows who might read these words once I post them on the internet. But what can I say, you were fun to write about; you and your vile ways and your vile, vivid face. 

Now you're gone without a trace. Left only in my mind. The images will get old soon enough, now that I won't be writing about you anymore.

As of yet, no one else knows that you're dead. No one but my most trusted advisor who said with a smile that your death scene was one of the best I'd ever written.

What can I say, dear Deceased Character, killed by a the writer's whim: you were fun to write about, that much I've admitted. 

But the truth is, killing you off was more fun still. The second I thought of your demise, I was committed, and the plot permitted it just as well. 

And so, I thought, I might as well do it. As they say, all's well that ends well. 

And you know, I think you ended well, ended in good glorious drama. And because all's well that ends well, you've become better for it; become more sufferable now that you've ended, more manageable, really. 

I like you better now that you're dead.

 

And if I write a flash-back, well, all I can say is that I hope you're not in it; I pray the plot will not permit it.

May we never meet again,