Pronunciation Guide

Monday, January 5, 2015


“A” is for anger

I seek to make realistic characters. Therefore, all of them, at some point, feel and express (or repress) anger. The angriest people in the story – that I know of so far – are probably two of my main ones: Rab and Sorek.

Rab is always on the defensive; she expects a fight every second of every day. For as long as she can remember, she has defended her younger sister, Ari, against their mother’s vicious verbal/emotional/sometimes physical abuse. In her mind, she has to be ready for anything, because at any moment, their mother could snap.

But Rab’s fury spills over into everything else in her life (which isn’t much, since Ari is her life). She is aggressive, distrustful, fiercely judgmental and unforgiving, and truly doesn’t know how to be any other way. While her best friend often cools the seething wrath, someone else brings it out of her: Sorek. He is, in many ways, the manifestation of everything Rab despises and fears. He is cocky (like the Huls, whom she hates), he is forward and forceful, and he is chillingly dangerous. He does what he wants, doesn’t conform to her image of “rebel leader,” and he is exasperatingly hard to read. She looks at Sorek and sees her dreams of fighting against the Huls withering to dust. Submitting to his leadership grates on every nerve in her body. As time passes and they interact more, he puts her more and more on edge.

Sorek is angry as well, though his is more of a quiet, driving rage. He isn’t expecting a fight, but he’s ready for one just the same. His anger typically seethes just beneath a controlled surface, masked by a snarky personality and a seeming inability to ever be fully serious. Though he sometimes comes across like he is in love with himself, he isn’t. In truth, he doesn’t like himself. That’s too nice. He hates himself. Much of his seething anger isn’t directed toward the Huls, but his own self – the self that reminds him far too much of those he wants to overthrow.

His vendetta against the Huls is, in part, a physical manifestation of his struggles against his own darkness. He believes that if he can destroy them, then maybe he’ll be able to destroy them within him, dredge their poison out of his life once and for all. Everything Sorek hates in the world burns in his own heart. For a man who wants so desperately to be good, he is pretty convinced that he’s not, and never will be. Not until he conquers that which threatens to destroy him. But it is in his attempt to destroy the darkness in the world that he feels himself slipping further and further in to the darkness within himself. And he doesn’t know how to stop.

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