IV- When you’ve outgrown your villain

I’ve been writing on The Seven Strands since 2011. That’s, what, 13 years? (Math, ick.) That’s a long time to be working on one series, and naturally, plenty about it has changed in that time.

It wasn’t always 5 books. When I first started delving into Saeli’s story, I’m pretty sure I thought it would be a single book. (Oh, past me, you were adorable.) Then for a long time, it was a trilogy: 1 book to get the crew out of Aschera and off the planet, 1 book for off-world shenanigans, and 1 book for the big homecoming and climax. At some point, I realized that second book was going to end up at least twice as long as either of the others. They were traveling to two different planets, however, so that was an easy split. Then the first book got too long, and it had no neat, tidy breaking point. Well…technically it did; the climax of Hands Like Secrets used to be its midpoint. The problem was, not nearly enough happened afterward to justify a whole book; I had 75k words worth of plot on one side and 30ishk on the other. The entire first half of Secrets Like Glass grew solely from the need to have things happen between Saeli leaving Aschamon after Valene’s party and Iuril’s appearance and ultimatum. (I’m actually quite pleased with how well it turned out.)

Saeli wasn’t always autistic. That was a change I made on the last major edit I did before Shadow Spark picked up the series. I had been doing research on autism for another character I was writing, in a different story, so it was fresh in my mind when I decided to start querying Hands Like Secrets again. Upon going through and making edits, I started to fear that Saeli was coming across a little too cold, too distant, too logical…and that’s when I realized she was ticking a lot of autistic boxes. I hadn’t written her that way on purpose, but once I noticed it, I knew I either had to rewrite her, or I could keep doing what I’d already done, but on purpose. I chose the latter, even though I knew an autistic MC written by a non-autistic author would likely draw some (probably justified) criticism.

(I originally wrote Saeli to be like me. I…don’t know what that says about me. I didn’t even have to change much in the way I’d portrayed her.)

Fien wasn’t always non-binary, and their name wasn’t always Fien. Yan and Mauri both had different names, as well as most of the side characters. Brandon Sanderson’s Kaladin meant I had to change my Kaladan into Kaeban. Rafel’s name had a different spelling, and he wasn’t always ace. The school cord colors were different. Heck, the story started out with White Mantles and Black Cowls, which I changed so as not to introduce any unintentionally awful racial stereotypes. (Saeli growing up thinking that black (clad) people are bad, and slowly learning the error of her ways? Yeeeeah, no. Teenaged me wouldn’t have seen the problem, but older me likes to think she’s learned a little better.)

But through all the years, one thing hasn’t changed at all, and that’s Rafel. My handsome, charming, ambitious, manipulative, morally ambiguous anti-hero-slash-villian-slash you don’t really know because you aren’t supposed to. He’s everything I love about Raistlin Majere with a maxed-out charisma stat and more importantly, missing a redemption arc. Rafel was exactly the sort of guy that younger me would have been sucked in by, to her detriment. In college, I crushed on a guy with charisma like that. I didn’t like who I became, making excuses for his careless way of treating people. Saeli’s journey with Rafel—discovering who he really is, learning to see the way he manipulates people, making peace with her feelings—was meant to mirror what I’d felt.

I’m now pushing 41. I’ve been happily married for 18 years. I’ve watched my son grow up. Characters I once found hot in movies and shows now look like kids to me.

I recently reread Hands Like Secrets and had two realizations. 1) I can tell that I wrote most of those words over a decade ago. The prose is full of semicolons and turns of phrase that I wouldn’t use now. I’m a better writer now than I was then, which hopefully means the final three books will be awesome.

2) Men like Rafel Kailar don’t frighten me anymore. Which is good…but it also makes Saeli much more difficult to write. When I first started, Saeli’s thoughts and reactions came very naturally because she was basically me. Now, I have to put myself in the headspace of a decade ago, when Rafel was hot and mysterious, and liking him was perilous.

But maybe understanding those two things will help me move past the burnout I’ve been experiencing, and finally let me finish this series that I do—deep down—still love.