I helped my two older sisters move from their old apartment to their gorgeous new one yesterday. It was exhausting (because I had to go up and down stairs and carry lots of heavy junk), it was rewarding (because they were so excited to be in their new place), and it was fun. I don’t get to spend that amount of time with my two eldest sisters very often, so that meant a lot to me. We put in a good ten hours on moving, setting up, tearing down, etc. But now their snug in their new apartment, with a just a bit of light work left to do, and I’ve recovered (more or less. Lol) from the workload.
Needless to say, no writing got done yesterday.
But I did learn some things that will help me with my writing. You know how sometimes there’ll be a phrase, where the MC suddenly gets nervous and “can’t eat a bite,” or their food “turns to ash in their mouth” or “felt like it was choking them.” I got that feeling for real, and it wasn’t comfortable. I’ll spare you the gritty details. Suffice to say, what with the exhaustion from the day, tempers flared, and things got a little ugly.
Everything’s straightened out now, but I got a taste all over again of just how awkward/awful/uncomfortable it is when you have a big misunderstanding with someone you care about, and you see how much your actions have hurt them, and have to tell them that their actions have hurt you, as well.
I make bad things happen to my novel characters all the time. It’s what makes the story interesting. I feel bad for making them miserable, fictional or not, but those things have to happen. Sometimes it’s hard to step into their shoes; I’ve never, for instance, had to deal with a parent being terminally ill, and I’ve never been completely rejected by someone I was trying to help.
Yesterday was a bit of a reminder of how fragile humans can be, and of how quickly things can get out of hand when everyone’s pouring their heart out. I’ll be keeping that in mind.