The Day My Husband Wanted To Off My Guy

I enjoy the process of writing. It’s not always fun, but I embrace the challenge of researching, outlining, writing, and rewriting. My favorite part is running the different scenarios by my husband, Kraig.
A while ago, I struggled with a transitioning area in my storyline for Chemical Attraction, and he suggested breakfast at our local diner to talk about it. Of course, I agreed. First, it was his idea. Second, any chance not to cook was a plus. And, third, he was a good sounding board—although less so that day.
After ordering our breakfasts, I explained my dilemma. “What do you think I should do?”
He sipped his coffee. “I think you should kill off one of your main characters.”
“What? Who?” I demanded.
“Matt Connor.” His reply was so casual as if killing a person was a common occurrence. I wondered if I married a hitman.
With my mouth open, I tried to comprehend his words. “I can’t kill Matt. He has a wife and a son. They’d be devastated.”
In the middle of the crowded restaurant, our heated discussion received wide-eyed stares from the senior patrons closest to us. As I thought of Matt dying, I blinked away a few tears. My bastard husband laughed while I searched my coat pocket for a tissue.
“How could you suggest such a thing?”
Enjoying my grief, he smiled. “Have someone shoot him. Better yet, have a farm animal maul him to death…”
I blocked out his other malicious ideas and cried. With a sympathetic look, the waitress silently refilled my mug and slid a few extra napkins toward my silverware. I blew my nose with one while she glowered at my horrible husband.
He leaned forward. “Honey, he’s just a character.”
But Matt wasn’t. He had a family. He had feelings. In my head, I knew he was a made-up person. My heart thought different.
“How serious are you about writing?” he asked as the waitress delivered our meal.
I realized I was very serious. Our kids were grown, and I worked part-time. The writing started out as busy work. I had this idea and needed to get it on paper. However, the more I wrote the more compelled I was to write. I wanted to bring my characters to life—and not just alive in my head. Embarrassed by my emotional outburst, I quietly ate my breakfast. Kraig chuckled.
“Am I crazy?” I finally asked.
“Just passionate.” He tried to put a pleasant spin on it, but his wife was a nut job.
Later, I rationally considered his ideas and quickly dismissed them. Matt would be safe in this story. We’ll see what happens in the sequel.
I hope I’m not the only “passionate” writer out there with a crazy story like this. Care to share yours?

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