Writing Lesson: One Million and Five

One of the things evident about my writing is that I can't control my characters. You'd think that since I created them that I would have some indication of what they are going to do. But I've learned, at least for a man, that writing is pretty much like making babies: Your contribution in the creation process is small, and your ability to control what you have created is non existent.

My problem for the day is that now I can't even control the creation of my characters, and some of them are creating themselves. I wouldn't call it immaculate conception, because, after all, I'm just a man, and I was involved, but these people just show up at my writing door and demand that I accept them as one of the family. I probably sound too much like a politician, but I have no memory of using my creation tools during the process of their conception.

Yesterday I was working on a new science fiction novel, and "BAM," out of nowhere, a little girl shows up. Writing about little tykes scares me, because I know nothing about kids, especially girls: Raising my three daughters definitely proved that.

An added complication this time is that she is not human. I know that I thought that about my own progeny a few times when they were growing up, and they all turned out perfect, but with this little girl, how do I communicate with her to know what she is thinking? She doesn't even speak my language.