I’m
generally not a fan of scenes told from the villain’s point-of-view. I don’t
like being there, in the villain’s head. I find that it gives away a lot of the
tension within the novel—knowing what the villain is plotting. And, again, I
don’t like being there.
This is,
no doubt, close-minded of me. And you have to be careful, as an author, not to
close your mind to possibilities. Because, eventually, you are going to have to
break down that wall.
The
problem with ignoring the major villain in Redemption
is that—if I tell this story only from the main characters’
perspectives—the villain doesn’t get to walk onto the page until the climax.
And that’s
a problem. A big one.
Because even
though the villain has caused all kinds of havoc, it just doesn’t seem like a
big deal if that character doesn’t show up for the build-up.
So after
writing not one, but two full drafts of Redemption,
I realized that—kill me now—I was going to have to actually climb into the
villain’s head. And let this character talk to the reader . . . several . . . times
within the story.
This was
really quite creepy. I mean, you never know what might happen to you in the
villain’s head. He or she might just chop you up with a letter opener or
something. (You think I’m joking, but I’m not).
Spending a
whole week—much less a month—climbing
into the villain’s head was just not how I was planning on spending one of my
summers.
But the
book is oh so much better for
it.
