Two days ago, I killed a friend of mine. I’d known him for several months and we were quite intimate. He lived with me constantly and was always around to make me laugh, cry or become exasperated when he didn’t do what I thought he should do. He was my friend, and I killed him. He was my creation and I killed him off in Chapter 28.
You see, I planned his death months ago, soon after I created him. He was always destined to die. It was essential that he die. It wouldn’t be the same story if he didn’t die. Even though I felt all those things were true, I still struggled with the idea and almost couldn’t go through with it when the time came. I had major angst about it. I flipped back and forth so many times that I think my beta reader would have killed me if I kept it up too much longer. I even went so far as to write an alternative scene in which he was critically wounded but did not die.
Part of this stemmed from the fact that I had become very attached to him over the course of the story. I kept finding more things for him to do, more scenes to put him in that made the story better, stronger. I kept giving him more personality. At first, he was defined by his job, a very brief physical description and a Southern accent. Then he grew on me… he became the best friend of my main character. There was joking, fun and serious conversations. Hell, I gave him a middle name and a family for cripes sakes! I fell in love with my fictional character!
There was another reason why I was reluctant to kill him. I was (still am) publishing the story chapter by chapter as I finish them. Readers started leaving comments about the story and one theme immerged; almost everyone loved Perry. He’d started out as working for the bad guys but as I started changing him, making him not like his job and feeling guilty about what he was doing, the opinion of the readers changed too. I made him funny and I think they loved that as much as I did. I began to worry because I knew what was coming in Chapter 28 and I feared the hate mail. What would I do if the readers revolted? How would I feel if they stopped reading? What if, what if? Doubt is a terrible thing.
There were two people who knew he was going to die, my beta reader and another reader who I was sending advanced copies of the chapters and spoilers. They were like the angel and devil on each of my shoulders, although in truth, they are both angels. But one told me that it was logical to kill him; sad but logical and to do anything else wouldn’t be true to the story. The other pointed out that he didn’t deserve to die because inside he was a good man, just in a bad situation.
My options were limited. I could 1) have him run away like a coward, 2) stay and go to jail for the rest of his life (he’s deeply involved enough with the criminals that there would be no deals cut), 3) give him a deal anyway and blow any credibility I had by making my story unbelievable, or 4) kill him. In the end, I chose option 4 but gave him a heroic death in which he saved his friend (my main character) and several other people in the process. He was brave, he was honorable, he was heroic and he was dead.
I cried and had to stop several times writing his death scene. In the end, however, I felt very good about my decision. I’d stuck to my outline and did what worked for the story. I put on my big girl pants and did the right thing; the way I think a real writer would. I’m proud of myself and damned if I don’t’ think this puts me one-step closer to answering my question… Am I a writer? I think I just might be; at least I was when I posted Chapter 28.
