Sean the misogynist writes about tender love
I make no apologies for creating Sean McNabb as a narcissistic, misogynistic main character. An author doesn't have to present a saint as protagonist. The MC can be downright objectionable, but he or she must be real. Are all misogynists loathsome all the time? Of course not. Sean is no different.
But how do I let those small bits of laudatory humanity show through? In my case, I make Sean write chapters featuring his main character, Darrington Circe, in my novel The Search For Circe. He makes Darrington approachable and understandable. I just finished showcasing several snippets from one chapter called simply Ommi, about Circe's meeting with an interesting young woman named Ommi Martin.
Circe is a marketing specialist based in Denver. He sees Ommi walking along the 16th Street Mall and asks her if she would be willing to be a source for his marketing efforts. She greets his offer with a witty reply that either he is honest in his approach or else it's the worst pick-up line she's ever heard. She agrees to sit with Circe at an outside seating area at the Rialto Cafe.
The meeting is tentative at first, but the two eventually become more at ease. The bulk of the chapter is a simple back-and-forth between interviewer and interviewee as they sip cups of coffee. He says he must avoid the usual protocol of his job and ask an out-of-the-ordinary question: Are you a small-town girl? She deflects his attempt for a while, but finally admits that she is from Arlington, Oregon, a tiny town on Interstate 84 along the banks of the Columbia River.
Their conversation continues, and he learns that she is a free-lance writer who is in downtown Denver to meet with a representative for 5280 Magazine (which is real) and pitch a story idea for possible publication. They discuss her project, and little by little they learn more about each other. She turns the tables on Circe when she makes a request: Can I make an observation about you, or to be more accurate, may I ask a question? Circe agrees. "Are you a religious man?" she asks.
Okay, so now the facade of a simple meeting takes on a deeper subject. They both discuss their ideas, and Ommi ends the session when she says she must hurry to keep her appointment at 5280. She does one last thing, which is to give Circe her name and phone number. She believes he is a sensitive man, and a sensitive man tends to put his ego aside and regard the needs of someone else. "Maybe I'm right, maybe I'm wrong, but I'm willing to take the chance," she says.
The brutal truths behind this conversation are that Circe is cursed with the ability to see a sign on people that means that are going to die soon, and she has the sign on her. He knows their friendly farewell is the last time he'll see her.
How does this scene reflect on Sean McNabb the author? Here's a guy who regards women for their sexual potential and has a "one and done" guideline for relationships. Yet this man with a cavalier attitude toward women creates a loving relationship in his section about Ommi. What to make of this?
I end the chapter by giving biographical information about Ommi, from her young days in Arlington through her young adult years and tragic happenings to her current situation. But there is one fact in her life story that screams something about Sean's own life. (Hint: It's Ommi's cause of death. You need to read more of the novel to understand that, but the importance of that hint is monumental.)
It's a chapter that's rich in details and little clues about Sean as he breaks Circe's heart. Is he simply reliving his own bitter memories?
But how do I let those small bits of laudatory humanity show through? In my case, I make Sean write chapters featuring his main character, Darrington Circe, in my novel The Search For Circe. He makes Darrington approachable and understandable. I just finished showcasing several snippets from one chapter called simply Ommi, about Circe's meeting with an interesting young woman named Ommi Martin.
Circe is a marketing specialist based in Denver. He sees Ommi walking along the 16th Street Mall and asks her if she would be willing to be a source for his marketing efforts. She greets his offer with a witty reply that either he is honest in his approach or else it's the worst pick-up line she's ever heard. She agrees to sit with Circe at an outside seating area at the Rialto Cafe.
The meeting is tentative at first, but the two eventually become more at ease. The bulk of the chapter is a simple back-and-forth between interviewer and interviewee as they sip cups of coffee. He says he must avoid the usual protocol of his job and ask an out-of-the-ordinary question: Are you a small-town girl? She deflects his attempt for a while, but finally admits that she is from Arlington, Oregon, a tiny town on Interstate 84 along the banks of the Columbia River.
Their conversation continues, and he learns that she is a free-lance writer who is in downtown Denver to meet with a representative for 5280 Magazine (which is real) and pitch a story idea for possible publication. They discuss her project, and little by little they learn more about each other. She turns the tables on Circe when she makes a request: Can I make an observation about you, or to be more accurate, may I ask a question? Circe agrees. "Are you a religious man?" she asks.
Okay, so now the facade of a simple meeting takes on a deeper subject. They both discuss their ideas, and Ommi ends the session when she says she must hurry to keep her appointment at 5280. She does one last thing, which is to give Circe her name and phone number. She believes he is a sensitive man, and a sensitive man tends to put his ego aside and regard the needs of someone else. "Maybe I'm right, maybe I'm wrong, but I'm willing to take the chance," she says.
The brutal truths behind this conversation are that Circe is cursed with the ability to see a sign on people that means that are going to die soon, and she has the sign on her. He knows their friendly farewell is the last time he'll see her.
How does this scene reflect on Sean McNabb the author? Here's a guy who regards women for their sexual potential and has a "one and done" guideline for relationships. Yet this man with a cavalier attitude toward women creates a loving relationship in his section about Ommi. What to make of this?
I end the chapter by giving biographical information about Ommi, from her young days in Arlington through her young adult years and tragic happenings to her current situation. But there is one fact in her life story that screams something about Sean's own life. (Hint: It's Ommi's cause of death. You need to read more of the novel to understand that, but the importance of that hint is monumental.)
It's a chapter that's rich in details and little clues about Sean as he breaks Circe's heart. Is he simply reliving his own bitter memories?
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