Plus Ça Change – July 14, 2026
The author obsessively revisits his story concepts and implementation, and thinks again.
OR
It seems I have some of my best conversations with my characters while I’m in the shower. Perhaps the white noise of falling water blots out the vagaries of the modern day.
I’m finishing up a chapter on a decidedly unpleasant event, the sadistic and systematic torture of slaves in a particular house in New Orleans. It’s 1834. I’ve been through the chapter a handful of times, moving it from a mess of ideas into an edited and polished narrative, scenes crafted, human beats, conversations realistic, events coherent. I’m maybe done.
“Nah.” I think. “There were enough changes last time, I’ll go through it one more time in the morning.“
And then Marie says to me, as I wash my hair, “There is no way, not once, not ever, that I’d say or do THAT. What’s wrong with you boy?”
She’s talking about the closing words of the chapter. That chapter ending has survived major edits, minor edits, word refinement, all the fun I have as a wordsmith. I think she waited to see what I’d do. When it looked like I was going to be untrue to who she was, she spoke up. “You know I wouldn’t do that.”
So, this morning, flip that very last moment in the chapter about 180° and yep. She’s happy. So am I. And I got a metaphor out of it, as she walks off toward a pool of light.
I like the lyrical version of this. That’s her story and I’m sticking to it.
