Today I was reading this blog post by an author I admire, Melissa Marr, and it instantly made me want to blog about inspiration and character. Melissa is traveling abroad and got evacuated from her hotel because of a fire alarm; rather than being put out, she did what I think all of us naturally curious novelists do:

"I people-watched" . . . "It was about 30-40 minutes, and studying the cues and behaviours was enough to keep my attention the whole time. This is one of the fun parts: the potential in the unexpected. I'd never say I wanted to sit outside with our bags, but I had good fun despite the fact that it didn't sound fun on paper. I suspect either I might be easily amused some days . . . or people are just fascinating. . . or both."

I relate to this. Ever since I was little, I would make up stories for people I saw while traveling. Most people just got ordinary stories. They looked ordinary, mostly content with their lot in life, moving along with the crowd. Then there were the extraordinary ones. They weren't necessarily beautiful or flashy, but they were different. Back then, I didn't really have words to explain what made their stories more entertaining to tell. But I think I can now, because the same things that made weaving tales about those extraordinary individuals interesting is also the same thing that makes fiction about these sort of people interesting to read.

I think it's a matter of equilibrium. Most people have achieved a kind of balance in their life. I don't mean that in a yoga-tastic sort of way. I mean that they've gotten into a certain physical and mental place in society, career, and family, and it would take more effort to push them out of that place than it would to keep them where they are. They might be unhappy with where they are, but not unhappy enough to make them really change. They might be excited about something, but not excited enough to jump the tracks. How do you write a good story about that? It's like plotting the course of a straight line.

Then there are the extraordinary people; the unbalanced ones. No, not a Dr. Jekyll/ Mr. Hyde unbalanced. Meaning that their lives stand on a knife's edge. There's a path A and a path B in front of them, and the slightest push of events either inside or outside could put them either way. But they can't stand forever where they are now, on the edge of that knife, teetering for balance. They have to go one way or the other, and that's what makes plot.

Even the most ordinary of people lose their equilibrium at some point in their lives, which is why we have love stories and losing job stories and stories of death. But for me, the real fascination is people who willingly choose that knife. Who feel that their current path is getting too safe and willingly push themselves out of balance in hopes of something better - or maybe only different. That's who I want to write about. Maybe it's because that's the sort of person I am: the girl who hears "no" as "I dare you." Or maybe because it's the sort of person I want to be.

Which are you?