I often wonder what character I play in the story of my life. Am I the overworked housewife, deserving of sympathy? The nagging mother who should be checked? The over-scheduling parent, or the parent limiting children's opportunities? The time-starved artist, suffering without "a room of her own?" And if I am the overworked housewife or the time-starved artist, why on earth can't my husband see it?
In reality, I can be all of these things at the same time. Or none of them. I try to do the right thing and fulfill my responsibilities; sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. But to describe myself, in conversation or in writing, as any one of them, would be incomplete.
If I can remember that my fictional characters, too, will be larger than their sterotypes, my stories will be richer. Like my own life.
Agreed. Well, not that I'm writing or developing characters... but still.ReplyDelete