World Series--Third Base

Off to Philly we go. Which leads me to . . . .

By the time you round third in your book, the character arc should be apparent. So what sort of character change is your protagonist undergoing?

I think, in my potential work-in-progress, is about choosing love above all things. Even if it means turning your back on the entire world. But I'm still playing.

It's no secret that I love character development more than anything. I love characters . . . when I think of my books, none of them ever started with "what if there was a ticking bomb and the world needed to be saved." All of them started with . . . "What is there was a protagonist who [insert back story here] and now they had to [insert novel's plot here]."

Rounding third . . .

How is your character going to change--profoundly.

GO YANKEES!

And a tantalizing P.S. I have a special guest Monday. No, it's not a Yankee, but it is someone interesting.

World Series--Second Base

Let me bask in this day. For a moment. GREAT game last night, and for once, Burnett didn't choke.

On to the next World Series post.

I have a very strange confession to make.

I like baseball. I really do. I like going to the stadium. I like rooting for my team. I really (!!) like farm teams maybe even more than the major leagues. I like the atmosphere. I like being close to the field and cheering. And occasionally heckling. But there's an entirely unexpected, unusual reason why I love baseball. It's so evocative as to be . . . well, weird and eccentric, but it's totally true.

I like the sound.

Growing up, my most favorite place in the entire universe was not home. It was my grandmother's house. I could bore you all with the thousands of little reasons why, but it was basically heaven to me. I could, ALL (ahem) these years later, "walk" you through the apartment and every detail in it from memory. And the "soundtrack" of my time there was . . . baseball. I forgive my grandparents in that they rooted for the Mets, but no matter, that strange sub-roar of the crowd . . . perculiar only to baseball . . . that is the soundtrack of childhood for me, or at least the happiest part of it. For some reason, when I hear baseball on TV, it is as calming to me as a lullaby.

Football--those announcers work in quiet, generally--and even if they are talking over the crowd, it's a totally different roar. But baseball announcers, that unusual commentary they give, it's always over the chattering roar of the crowd, and it's a true play-by-play as it's happening. That's why I love it. As I snuggled down into bed last night to watch my beloved Yankees, it was the sounds as much as their game, that made me feel like all was right with the world. It's not something I've ever told anyone. But that strange sound only in the world of baseball is what makes me feel happy inside.

So second base today . . .

What is something "unexpected" about your character?

World Series Time--First Base

All right . . . I do NOT want to discuss last night. Don't. Beware . . . I have my teeth bared today. Well, as bared as I can ever get. I mean, COME ON, YANKEES! I feel SICK this morning. SICK! BUT . . . that doesn't mean you all can't get to first base.

First base. You've attracted an editor with your pitch, your little tagline, but whether you make it to first base safely . . . well, the first-base ump can call you out at any time.

Today's assignment? Tantalize your fictitious World Series coach with who, precisely, your main character(s) is. Why should I care? Why is this person special? What is his secret? It would help if, a la a synopsis, you did a little SLIDE into first and threw in some voice so I now whether I should care. Oh, and 50 words or less. No plot, folks. This is all about who that character is and why out of the thousands and thousands of manuscripts in the slush pile . . . YOUR character is one people will want to read about.

Thanks to Lurker Monkey and a pep talk, I may be working on one myself.

My pitch:

In 1348, the ward of a Plague Doctor is delirious with fever and covered in purple patches. He is offered a deal by a mysterious figure in the agonizing suffering of the night. For six hundred long years, Adam has been an Angel of Death. Today, for the first time in his strange existence, he has found someone who can see him.

I have two main characters, so I will pull together my first-base character sketch for the other main character.

All right . . . so how many of you will slide into first?