Yesterday I posted the second in a series of character profiles from my upcoming novella, Blood in the Past. This week’s focus is on Jason Brighthouse Jr, a grief-stricken young man and soon-to-be-cop trying to fill his father’s shoes. I like to think as authors we all give our characters snippets of our own personalities. I’m not saying I’m an over-ambitious cop, but there are a few similarities.
- Brighthouse lost his father and almost couldn’t put the pieces of his life back together. The situations between his loss and my own are different, of course, but I’m sure the grief is pretty similar.
- In his youth, Brighthouse makes rash decisions. Don’t worry, he outgrows this in the full-length novel, Blood in the Paint, and I’ve already outgrown it. Well, we’ve sort of outgrown it…
- Sometimes his rash decisions are just a product of his good instincts. When Hubby-pants and I watch TV and movies and I say right off the bat that I don’t like a character, 9 times out of 10, that character is the bad guy. We joke that in an end-of-the-world situation, I’m allowed to shoot anyone I don’t like. We’ll save ourselves a lot of trouble that way. For the most part, Brighthouse doesn’t go around shooting people without evidence later in the series. But nobody said anything about arresting them…
- Brighthouse overcomes a great moment of weakness, the ramifications of which he’ll deal with for the rest of his life, in secret. Again, different situations, same emotions.
Ready for a smidgen of Brighthouse-ness? Here ya go:
He turned to leave, but a sharp thwack startled him, followed by the scattering of broken glass. Jason knew the source without turning around; next to the wedding picture his mother stared at stood another framed photo of a recent family camping trip. In the photo his father tended to a roaring, red fire. Jason turned to find the picture gone from the mantle, as he expected. He shifted his gaze to his mother. The image had overwhelmed her. He understood. Even the mere memory of the photo stirred emotions within him, as he was unwilling to associate his father with any kind of fire anymore. Despite empathizing with his mother, he resisted the urge to support her and left, trekking upstairs and harping on the last conversation he and his father had.