A character popped into my head last night for a future prison project, so I figured I'd do a character rant for him so whenever I do get around to the story I don't forget him.

Warning: This series is gonna be dark, so the imagery of this rant may be disturbing.

Words. That's what people said. They were just words. Such small, insignificant things. Like air. Insubstantial. Fag. Bitch. Punk. Just words.

But the 44 Magnum I brought to school, not words. When I took all the hate and the pain and sent it back to it's source, the gun spoke for me. Guns are more powerful than words.

After that no one talked to me anymore. Only about me. The teachers talked to the police. My classmates talked to the press. The lawyers talked to the jury. A tornado of questions and speculations surrounded me, and I sat at the quiet center barely aware of what was happening.

As I sit in my cell, some distant part of me knows people think what I did was wrong, that I overreacted. But I don't think they understand. I think they just don't know. They have no idea how blissful the silence is.

For the life of me, I will never understand taking a process and turning it into an identity. Yes, I plot before I write. But I also put the toilet paper on the roll hanging over and not under. I don't go around identifying myself as an Over the Topper.

I guess the reason it never quite made sense to me is because I don't believe it's significant. Each writer has their own methods but most of them aren't that unique and while they make a difference for the writer that chooses them, they probably wouldn't help writing as a whole if we all adapted the same methods. I mean unless you're writing with a bag of chicken bones hanging from your neck, your process probably isn't that special. Though if you are writing with a bag of chicken bones around your neck, feel free to declare yourself a proud and out Chicken Boner. I won't judge.

However, I do judge people that announce they are a Pantser or a Plotter in a way that implies we're receiving any significant information from that label at all. Guess what everyone! I tend to favor my left when I sleep at night. I'm a Left Sider.

The funniest part is most people fall somewhere in the middle. They plan a little, they wing it a little. So it's not even a true dichotomy. As writers we don't really need to draw lines over silly stuff like our process. Don't we have enough knock down drag outs over adverbs and passive voice?

In a kingdom faced with civil war, an idealistic prince must abandon the foreign princess he desires for an arranged marriage to an influential knight. Together, the prince and knight travel north to deal with an army marching on the kingdom’s borders, only to discover the biggest threat to the crown is the princess they left behind.

Prince Elliot had everything—wealth, power, the love of a beautiful woman. It wasn’t enough. More than anything he wanted to prove himself worthy of his crown. When negotiations for his sister's arranged marriage to Sir Blaine fell apart, he was asked to take her place and marry the knight.

Sir Blaine was adored throughout the kingdom for his strategic mind and feats of bravery. He was rewarded with the greatest gift a king could offer a knight—the princess’s hand in marriage.

But Blaine found the brazen Prince Elliot far more enticing.

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