You know? I can be mean and sarcastic. Yes, I do it out of
hate.
However, this is what I don't get.
You are being mean and sarcastic and you claimed that is in the light of "fun." You hurt people. People you don't even hated on; people who you think of as your friends.
You poke and prod at their flaws, saying they would not mind because they do it, too.
Well, many people make fun of their imperfection to make up for the insecurity on that issue. You do it, too – call yourself one name or the other. That does not mean it will not hurt when others use the same label to call you.
Common sense, people. Basic. Common. Sense.
*******
In other words, In lights of
NaNoWrimo, I picked up another quasi-bicidal psychopath: Rorcs.
Rorcs, the boy who thinks his guns are living extensions of his body and death would put people in a better place.
There will be rules to the game; his own moral code of conducts. After all, I can't have him run around with homicidal
and> suicidal tendencies
AND no rules; he would self-destruct within the first 100 words.
My novel would shrink into a drablet.
I don't think he is afraid to die; it's the process of dying that unsettles him. He believes in quick-and-painless and tries his best to deliver at least as much. Do unto others, and all that crap. When his time comes: the quicker, the better.
Of course, there will be the usual suspects: sidekick(s), girls, villians, motives, angst, etc. Two cookie-points each time I can make any character goes, "Oh god, no." because of his action. That should be his goal in life, do things that would shock people and make their fingers twitch - hard enough to squeeze the trigger of a gun and end his misery.
We'll see. I, personally, prefer humour-adventure fiction. But if Rorcs!muse won't leave my brain, well, I will just have to write him out.
