All masterpieces have prototypes. There are roles, Chuck knows, that every character has to play. Novels upon novels testify to that, as did the beginning of time. He put his drink down and takes a deep breath, staring at the new document page on his computer screen. He has his favorites, he admits, characters that played their roles deliciously. He thinks of Abraham and his wife, the parents who preferred family over calling. He thinks of Moses, the wanderer who stuttered- all great characters have defects, mind you- but cared more for his people than promised lands. And he thinks of kings, like David, who’s power was a long-time coming and came at the price of iron and blood. Chuck likes that. Some writers say that characters write themselves, pave their own stories even against the initial plans of their creator. That the writer is just a median, just a referee of what has happened and what is to come. And referees can make a big difference in the game, but the players are the ones who run- Chuck holds the whistle, he knows, but his job is to let each player rush towards the ball. So, they’re right when they say that, Chuck thinks- creations, when done right, direct you and write themselves. It’s not always a delight, and sometimes you worry the whole ensemble is crud, but there’s just no other way. The characters that really shine don’t privilege you with alternatives.
Chuck has his favorites. Always has. Writers, like fathers and potters, shouldn’t have them. It can mess up the work. But they do anyways. He has favorite chapters, and favorite themes. He liked the Renaissance, for example. And how his characters yearned for Utopias in the 1800’s was pretty humorous- in a universal humor sort of way, that is. He imagines dying of Malaria wasn’t very funny for most of the early American settlers.
Chuck has chapters he wish he could tear out- like genocides and wars, page written in blood ink. He didn’t like writing them, but some things write themselves and being a writer is masochistic work. But then he has favorite lovely things, too. A gruff drunk named Robert, who wore stained shirts over a heart of gold, will always be a favorite. And an archangel with a pretty kick-ass attitude who liked stupid jokes was just a trip to write. The father and the comic relief, he knows. The essential figures. Chuck liked the foxy physcic, too. The Mage character with a penant for sass- always fun. And then there are sadder characters, ones like the archangel gone rouge, the misbehaving son with daddy issues. Tragic, relatable, but inexcusably cruel at heart- the kind that plays on the readers own insecurities and fears, all the while indulging in ruthless evil. Yeah, chuck thinks, the Devil is a draining character to let take the pen, but dynamics make the story.
And then there are love stories. Because, hey, being disillusioned doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a fine chick flick moment or two. And, c’mon, the romance between an angel of the Lord and a not-always-so righteous man with a father complex? Always in demand. United through Hell, Heaven, and Purgatory? That blows Romeo and his twelve year old Juliet completely out of the park, and no one can tell Chuck otherwise. Have Juliet raise Romeo from perdition, then we’ll talk.
Some characters write themselves. Characters like John, the broken man, who’s outcasted love made all the wrong choices. Characters like Sam, the hero archetype, a living paradox on how one can have such a valiant, moral spirit but such a diabolical predeposition. Character like Dean, knight-like characters, warriors, grown children, in need of love and security behind the sex appeal and the cheesy pick up lines- the kind that makes the reader want to skip to the page where they realize, yes, they’re good enough for happiness. Yes, they deserve it. And characters like Cas, wonderful, bird-like Cas. The kind of canary-like characters that aren’t suppose to mean much on entry, but end up having such vibrance in their voice that they simply take the stage like it was theirs from the start.
Chuck has been writing for years, centuries even, and there is nothing new under the sun. Stories are re-told and scenes are really always the same, just worded differently. But, the creator smiles to himself, it’s been a while since writing has been this fun. The Winchesters, the garrisons, the to’s and the fro’s. This is a great story, a different one, and the archtypes are all there to make this story an epic one. And it’s taking a whole lot of waiting, but he’s pretty sure this is one masterpiece he and Death will be reminiscing over a long time after the finale has come.