Anna
She stood still, staring at me with her big, round eyes, cool and composed. She certainly looked like all the pictures I’d seen of my dead mother, but she was very-much Ivan’s granddaughter. Stubborn and poised with an odd, almost-confident cockiness. The girl continued to stand there, saying nothing, like she was waiting for me to say something.
One of the most interesting characters to write in my upcoming novel, Ivan’s Wife, is the main character’s wife, Clarissa. A woman of many faces and complexities, it’s uncertain whether she is a villain or angel. In this scene, Dimitri tries to explain his attraction to his best friend. Or obsession?
Christian was a cynic when it came to women. He’d never been married but loved to dish out marital advice. But I loved the guy and he’d talked me off the ledge more than once. He meant well but Clarissa was the kind of woman you come across once in a lifetime. “You don’t get it, meeting Clarissa in Italy changed me. I’d watch her during the movie they were filming and I knew she was the one. Looking at her was better than any sex I’d ever had. I told her when she agreed to marry me…something I didn’t think was possible…that I would do anything for her. I’d kill for her—”
The chemistry between the two is electric and perplexing. Writing from a male point of view presents new challenges, one I am embracing. In some ways, it gives me a unique perspective on defining the woman through a man’s eyes. It’s a journey, for sure.
My developing novel, Ivan’s Wife, is written from a male point of view. I hesitated, unsure whether I wanted to tell a story from that viewpoint. Turns out, I love it. Once I got into the main character, it was less about a male perspective and more about Dimitri’s. In this scene, we are introduced to Dimitri.
I started my gray Bentley and checked myself in the rear mirror. The eight-ounce glass of Absinthe had already numbed me. My black hair hung loosely over my forehead and my blue eyes were red and droopy. There was a slow hum in my head. Of course, it didn’t take much. The booze was seventy-proof and a hallucinogen although I doubted the latter. Wishful thinking maybe. Even so, it was a favorite among rebels and renegades which suited me fine. Today I needed it. Why my deceased brother left his daughter to me was anyone’s guess. I could barely take care of myself. When Clarissa and I married, I figured she would want a baby but to my surprise, she didn’t. Admittedly, I took it as a rejection. Children tie you together permanently and Clarissa was my obsession. You’d think that fixation would have dulled by now, but it’s only grown more intense. I still bring a baby up once in a while to see her reaction. Every time, she tossed her blonde hair and giggled in that low, breathy voice that makes me crazy.
I can’t wait to see where this journey takes me. Have you considered writing from the viewpoint of the opposite sex?
