When a Character Dies
Authors kill their characters. Sometimes they grieve them, too.
Writing a seven-book series that spans three generations means I have been, among other things, in the business of endings.
Characters are born. They grow, stumble, love, disappoint, and occasionally astonish me. And then, when the story requires it, they die.
I should say something honest here: to an author, characters are not simply words on a page. They take on a life of their own, as endearing or infuriating as any real person you might know. I can usually see where they’re going. But they often surprise me in how they get there.
Jennifer, the central figure of my first three books, was always going to be a tragic figure. I knew that from the beginning. Even so, writing her death was painful in ways I hadn’t fully anticipated. The remaining characters moved through their grief with a kind of listless sorrow. I, on the other hand, couldn’t quite let go. So she returns in Harriet’s Way — disembodied, ethereal, more guide than ghost. A small act of authorial mercy.
Simon Marsh is the opposite case entirely. He exists in the story just long enough for us to understand the depth of his narcissism and depravity, so that when his end comes, we can accept it, even if it is morally questionable. He never troubled me. Some characters earn their exits.
Jon, in Saving Inez, is a different kind of loss. He arrives when Inez believes herself to be a lone survivor of the plague, and for a few chapters he is simply present: a companion, a small warmth in a cold world. In Chapter 4, Inez discovers she is pregnant. In Chapter 5, Jon suffers a fatal injury with a chainsaw. I never really knew him. He seemed like a decent man, and I would have liked the space to find out. But a novel has no room for chapters that wander without purpose, and he served his role on Inez’s path in the way it had to be given. That had to be enough.
Professor LaFlamme is different again. He appears throughout all of my books as a wise counsellor to Jennifer, Harriet, Inez, and Alice, and his death is, for me, genuinely sad. He was articulate, thoughtful, an unfailing source of appropriate guidance. At the end, he was simply too old to go on. He died in peace, with family and friends nearby. It was the least I could do for him.
My partner, who reads everything I write, has never quite understood this attachment. To her, they are ink on a page. Characters live and die as the story demands, and she turns the page without grief.
I find that rather remarkable, honestly. And I’m curious where you stand.
When a character you’ve come to care about reaches the end of their story, what happens to you as a reader? Are you sad, disappointed, relieved — or are you, like my partner, perfectly composed? I’d love to know. Please leave a comment below.
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