Love in a Minor Key
While my main characters wake me early in the morning and keep me tossing and turning at night, there are days when I find myself seduced by the charms of one of the minor characters inhabiting my personal universe.
Like Sir Walter de Rochefort.
Ah, Sir Walter, you relentless tease. Of all the characters in my Ripple series, he’s the most likely to tell me what he’s thinks of something. Anything. The dinner I cooked, (the dinner I didn’t cook), the danger in which I’ve placed a character, his opinion on American _________. (You fill in the blank. He’s got plenty o’ opining when it comes toAmerica and Americans.)
Whilst my other characters (major and minor) mostly skedaddle the moment I finish writing for the day, Sir Walter refuses. He hangs around unseen and unexpected like the invisible man he is. And then he ambushes me at absolutely ridiculous moments with his Gallic wit and accent (which is remarkably sexy, considering he’s old enough to be my . . . er . . . never mind—too hard to calculate—considering he’s over six-hundred.)
His complete devotion to Franceand all things French just kills me. He’s just so darned sure that his country has already pronounced the last word in everything from fashion to dining to automobiles. I mean, really? (“Absolument, my dear,” he replies.)
There’s the fact he can cook a mean cassoulet, help dispatch a villain, and perform surgery all within a few hours. There’s his loyalty to Mickie, Will and Samanthe. There’s his ability to take a trivial experience (a day at an amusement park) and draw out of that lessons for living life with more compassion and a willingness to sacrifice one’s own life for the good of others. Um, gosh.
So, in a few minutes when I step away from my desk for the evening, I’ll be keeping an ear out for my French friend. I’m reheating take-out pizza. I’m sure he’ll have something to say about that.
Who are your fave “lesser” characters?