Tonight I killed one of my characters. It was weird because up until tonight I didn't know that there would be a murder in this book. I knew it was a psychological thriller, but didn't know the stakes would be raised that high.
On the bright side, she wasn't that great a character in the first place. She was merely the bridge between two of the main characters, girlfriend to one and roommate to the other. Now though, in death, she becomes a major source of conflict and launches the story easily and definitely into act two.
The weird thing is that I feel guilty. Not that I killed her off, but how great I feel about killing her off. Her death has helped the story so much that I'm giddy with delight. How sick is that?
I don't think it's sick. I think killing off a character to feed the fire in a story sometimes IS a happy thing. Like when Dorothy's house landed on the Wicked Witch, the munchkins rejoiced. Sometimes the death of a character, whether liked or disliked, is joyous to us because it breathes more life into our story. Congratulations on your Death!!!
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