{ of cranes and casualties }

For some reason I've really wanted to revisit Nicholas Crane, the title character of my first NaNoWriMo novel for a while now.

A part of it might be the leaving college-nostalgia: all the trees are turning yellow (because in this part of Pittsburgh there's more yellow than red or orange) and I'm starting to realize how much I'm going to miss this place. It's like trying to convince yourself that there's going to be a fall again next year-- you know it's got to happen, that it's got to take place because it's happened before and nothing's changed, but it still doesn't quite register. I still feel like I'm seeing the leaves change colors for the last time and that I've got to savor it.

But, on the upside, it's good that I've come to this realization before the best parts of the trees have fallen off. The trusty disposable camera (chimera) and I can be out in full force yet.

Back to Crane: I never realized how suicidal he was, or rather, lingered on being. I wrote him (formally) my second year of college, when I'd broken off from my freshman friends and was trying to find my own way (for the most part on my own). He's immortal (by curse rather than by choice) and he walks an odd balance of trying to connect with an age and its people but at the same time retains a distance, an unwillingness to latch onto anything more ephemeral than he is. Which is, unfortunately, many things. I'd been playing with the idea of why Crane didn't like being immortal-- I mean, really, who wouldn't?

He's set up fairly nicely-- he writes under pseudonyms since he can't publish under his real name, but thanks to a lineage of family connections and a handful of deceptive skills, he manages to hang onto his professorship (after long terms of absence) at a small college and for the most part makes a nice life for himself. He could go on quite nicely being immortal; the only caveat is that he occasionally turns into a swan when he gets too involved in the moving time part of his life.

I suppose that would be enough for him to want to break out of the curse: wanting to make something happen rather than write about it happening to other people and never letting anyone else read it. At the point of the story that we meet him, he should be at a breaking point-- or at least approaching one. He's lived his lifestyle for so long, he wants to break out of it. He's been running off for years-- ever once in a while he'll take an unexpected sabbatical and gallivant off across the country trying to keep the curse off (but this never works). He'll be tired, fed up with where life has taken him or has paused in its taking him, and he'll want an escape, even if it's one that he can only take once. It'll be a cold, wet night, either rainy, snowy or full of slush, and he'll have his hands spaded in his pockets stiffly when he meets the person who'll turn his life upside down.

I like it.

But enough for this year's NaNo? Hmm... I've already done tons of research on Callahan over the summer and recently, and I feel like I'd be disappointing more than a few people if I suddenly switched out. Plus, I do want to tell that story and as it's autobiographic in a lot of senses, I feel like it would be perfect for this year: a wrap-up, the final presentation of what I learned at college before the celebration semester kicks off. (Hopefully) Crane I'll try to rewrite later. I have a feeling that a lot of his brooding could be better handled by a longer stretch of time rather than NaNo's rush. Callahan, on the other hand, could definitely stand to have pressure on it.

And as a last aside: nearly sliced off a finger yesterday. Well, not quite. The verdict's still out on whether or not I'll have a scar, but I'm okay with either option, as long as the scar is cool-looking.

Needing to work on Argent more but facing a busy week. Ugh.