Character Interview . . . or Interrogation?

  Plot, is good. It grows me, (the character,) into the person that God wants me to be, as HE is the author of my life. But sometimes, things happen, that I don't understand. Things that don't make sense. Things that hurt. I was looking back at some of the things in my life, some of them I still don't understand, and others, I know exactly what God was doing, and it got me thinking. If my book characters were real life people, and I put them through the things I put them through, they might hate me for the pain at the time, but looking back they would probably understand why I did what I did, and how it helped them. Instead of trying to imagine how my characters would feel, I set up an interview with a few of them, and traveled to Rifton to meet with the handful of characters I could gather. Below, is my take on that meeting...


        I climbed the Penner's porch and ran a hand over the railing. How many times had I watched one of the Penner's grip that railing in fear, in sorrow, or in joy?

     "She's here!" Sylvia called.

     I took a deep breath and approached the door to the large white farmhouse.

    Inside, Mr. Penner stood with arms crossed. "I'm not sure whether I should welcome you to my home, or banish you from my property forever." He paused, and a slow grin played at the corners of his mouth. "But, since I wouldn't exist if you hadn't imagined me, and I wouldn't have met the strangers in my living room if it weren't for you, I think a welcome is in store."

    I swallowed hard and met his twinkling gaze. How could he look so happy when I'd put him through so much? I opened my mouth to apologize, but no words would come.

    He held up a hand. "Priscilla, it's alright. I'm a pastor, remember?" He grinned again. "Of all people, I can see the good in what you've done. If you need to have a talk with me after this interrogation, er . . . this interview, I'll be in my office. Amanda and I would be happy to talk to you and help you through any complications you may be having with forgiving yourself for putting us through so much."

     I hesitated, and then stepped forward and hugged him. "Thank you, Mr. Penner. You're very understanding."

   He returned the hug, and then stepped back with a grin. "Mr. Penner? My name is John, you know. And you of all people are allowed to use it."

   I gave a shaky smile. This 'meeting-my-characters-face-to-face' thing wasn't as easy as I thought. "If it's all the same to you, I'll just keep calling you Mr. Penner. Or . . . I suppose by now, it's Pastor Penner again."

   Pastor Penner nodded. "The last few years have flown. Now, would you like to meet the handful of your characters that agreed to this interview?"

   I adjusted my watch strap and nodded. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

    He led me down the short hall of the house I'd once designed, and into the living room. He halted inside, and gestured around the room. "Shall I make introductions?" Without waiting for a response, he pointed at me. "Everyone! This is Priscilla. Or should I say, Priscilla J. Krahn? You all know why she's here."

    I swallowed hard. I knew every face. I'd been through so much with them, and yet, somehow, they were still strangers. A few of them gave me hard stares, as if they regretted agreeing to this meeting.

  Pastor Penner pointed to the young man seated on the couch to his left. "I'm sure you know my son, Paul."

   Paul pushed to his feet and met me with a good firm handshake. He didn't look overly pleased to see me, but at the same time, he didn't look mad at me.

   Once more, I was speechless as I stared at him. He'd grown from the unsure teen I'd first imagined, to a confident, albeit silent, young man.

   He gave a quick nod, and started from the room.

   "Where are you going?" I asked. "I thought you'd stay for the interview."

   Paul snorted. "No way are you getting me to sit down and answer questions. At least not your questions. I just wanted to meet you. But, if you'll excuse me, there's chores to be done. Those fences aren't going to fix themselves."

   I gave him a nod, and he exited the room.

   "I'm not staying either," a deep voice said. I turned, and gaped at the young man before me.

  "Samuel? When did you grow up?"

    Samuel offered a shrug and a cheesy grin. "It's not like my life has stopped since you quit writing about me, or rather, since you quit writing about my sister. But, like Paul, I've got work to do. Amy's got all the answers you're going to get from this family today." Samuel couldn't hide his grin as he left.

     Amy. I didn't need to be introduced, as she approached. She didn't say anything, just hugged me, and I hugged her back.

   When she released me from her hug, she turned to the others in the room. All familiar faces, though some had never seen this farm.

 “Thank you for sending out the invitations to this meeting! I’m so glad it’s here at our house, and it’s been exciting getting to meet other people who we share common ground with.”

 I winced. Me. I was their common ground.

“You’re late. And I would hardly call them invitations. More like demands for an interrogation.”

  I smirked. “It’s good to see you too, Alano. There’s no mistaking your cheerfulness.”

   Alano stood near the cold fireplace with arms crossed and feet spread wide. He shifted under my gaze, but the set to his jaw remained.

“Why are you here anyways? I thought I sent Willie Rodriguez the invitation?”

Alano grunted. “We drew straws. I got the short one. I thought a trip to your United States of America would be exciting. But it’s not. You people all think you have to wear shoes in public! Willie’s the one having all the fun chasing snakes or running from renegade Carabayos. I’d trade places with him any day.”

  I raised my eyebrows. It seems I’ve never mastered the art of raising just one eyebrow, like some of my characters. “Renegade Carabayos? I didn’t know that was a problem? What are you, the chief, doing here if you’ve got so much trouble down there?”

“Trouble?” Alano smacked his right fist into the palm of his left hand. “It’s no trouble. At least, nothing a little persuasive talk couldn’t fix.”

I knew him well enough to know that his ‘persuasive talk’ probably involved bruises and a good bloody nose, maybe even some broken bones, none of which would be on him, of course.

  I glanced about the rest of the room. Who else had made the meeting?

Another young man sat on the far couch, as far away as possible, from an older lady.

  “Jared?” I frowned. “I thought I invited Ty or Uncle Wyatt?”

Jared looked uncomfortable as he cracked his neck. I winced.

“Uncle Wyatt is on a honeymoon, or some such nonsense, and Ty is visiting his cousin Wayne in Montana.”

   “Wayne in Montana?”  The elderly woman leaned forward. “Isn’t that where Titus lives?”

 I smiled. Leave it to Auntie Donna to know. “That’s right.

  Alano snorted. “It’s where Titus lived after . . .”

“Alano!” I glared at him. “My blog readers don’t even know who Titus is! I stepped to the center of the room and turned in a slow circle. “Here’s the rules, guys. NO spoiler alerts! My blog readers don’t know everything. You can’t use this meeting as a means to blow my surprises!”

   Jared flushed. “I’m sorry. I mentioned the honeymoon . . .”

I sighed. “It’s alright, everyone would figure that out eventually anyways.”

“Oh, so it’s alright if he gives spoiler alerts, but not me?” Alano rubbed his fist and I tensed. He wouldn’t hit me . . . would he?

“Alano.” I paused. “I don’t mean to pull rank on you or anything, but I’m the author here. You can’t get out of hand.”

Alano laughed a nerve-grating snicker. “You made me this way! If I take my reins and say something out of line, what would you do? I’m exactly who you wanted me to be.” He crossed his arms again and leaned against the wall as casually as if he talked back to me every day . . . which isn’t far from the truth!

   “I see.” I forced myself to smile the best ‘I’m-in-charge-here’ smile I could muster. Hopefully getting across the point that I’m the author and they’re just my characters! “Well, Mr. Alano. You seem to be so sure of yourself, but I’ll have you know that you’re lucky to be the man you are. Did you know that you weren’t always Alano?”

 He snorted again. “Right. I was the president of Columbia.”

I forced another smile. His sarcasm could get way out of hand. Well, I would put him in his place! “No, you were Diego, but you lied to the Rodriguez’s and they thought your name was Seth.”

 Alano straightened, and his brow furrowed. “I may had led the Rodriguez family on, but I would never lie about my name! I’m proud of it.” He cocked his head slightly and studied me. Probably to see if I was bluffing. Deciding I wasn’t he shook his head. “I’m sure glad you changed your mind. I wouldn’t like to be someone else. Besides, isn’t Seth that half-African preacher boy in Jamestown? The one that saves James Wakefield’s life?”

   I snatched a pillow off the couch and threw it at him. “No spoilers!”

 Alano caught the pillow and shrugged with a grin. “I’m not spoiling anything. I mean come on. Seth lived in the 17th century. Just because he’s alive to you, and occupies documents on your whale of a laptop, doesn’t mean he’s alive to the world. He’s been dead for . . . at least three hundred years.”

I spear him with another ‘look’ and turn my back to him. “I’m glad you’re all here.” I met Pastor Penner’s smirk a moment before he closed the door behind him. Then, I turned my attention to the group surrounding me. Amy, Jared, Auntie Donna, and Alano.

“Pastor Penner is very gracious to allow us all in his home for this meeting.” I glanced towards his rocking chair and smirked. Perhaps I’d be less intimidating if I sat down.

   I curled my legs under me as I slowly rocked and glanced around the room, making eye contact with each person.

“Alano, you can sit down.”

He crossed his arms again and resumed his position of leaning against the wall. “I’d rather stand. Facing my enemies standing is easier than sitting. Besides, these couches aren’t half as nice as a good stump bench.”

“Suit yourself.”

“So, what are the questions?” Auntie Donna asked. “I’d be happy to answer any questions, especially if they’re about Jessa and Clay.”

“My first question is actually for Amy.”

Amy straightened, and rubbed her hands over her skirt. “I’ll do my best. Shoot.”

I stared for a moment, before I pulled my phone from my pocket and pulled up my notes. Amy was so much more confident than the thirteen-year-old girl I’d first imagined. “Alright, your question is . . .” I swallowed hard. “This might bring up bad memories but of all the things in your life, I’ve heard the most horrifying comments about the whole rib scene. We know that, at the time, you were trying hard to be thankful, and trust God, but you had no idea what was going to happen. You thought you were going to die, didn’t you?”

   Amy nodded, and her forehead creased as she frowned. “I still wake up once in a while and just lay in bed breathing. Thinking how amazing it is that I’m still alive. It really wasn’t as bad as your readers think it was.”

“Not as bad as they think it was?” I shook my head. “What are you talking about? You were strapped to a table in a dingy apartment building with a few thugs, having your rib cut out! Then, you were toted around with a broken rib and a missing rib. It was awful!”

Amy smiled. “When you say it like that, yes, it was awful! But it wasn’t any harder then saying good-bye to my family for the last time.”

I nodded, but something in my chest ached. Like my heart was bruised. I’d made her go through those good-byes multiple times. But I hadn’t been able to tell her at the time that it wouldn’t be good-bye forever.

“Was that the question? If I thought I would die?” she asked. “Because I told all your readers in Never Again, that I thought I was dying. I didn’t lie.”

I swallowed hard. “No, that actually wasn’t the question. The question is, looking back, how do you feel about the whole rib scene? I know at the time, you were just trying to trust God, and me, but you struggled. You struggled saying good-bye. How did all of that affect who you are today?”

Amy toyed with her locket. “Well, it was hard, but I wouldn’t change any of it.”

 I furrowed my brow. “You wouldn’t change any of your past?”

Amy smiled. “No. Not a thing. Except maybe my attitude through it all! Some days I was . . . well, not who I should have been.”

“Do you ever get mad at me for putting you through those things?” I ached for her answer, but part of me hesitated. What if she resented me?

Amy flashed a smile. “No. Why would I be mad at you?” She paused, and traced a pattern on the couch with her finger. “Okay, so maybe I was mad at you at the time, but now that I know why I went through what I went through, I’m glad for the way things happened.”

   She took a deep breath and made eye contact with me. “If I hadn’t had my rib removed, I wouldn’t have found out I had bone cancer till it was too late, and I would never have gone to the Ned Home. If I hadn’t gone to the Ned Home, I wouldn’t have found Sylvia.”

   “You’re the spokesman for your family at the moment,” I said. “So, about Sylvia, do you ever regret what happened to her? Does it ever feel . . . senseless? Like she was stolen from you for a few years for no reason? Like Paul had his stutter for no reason?”

Amy shook her head. “No regrets. Because of what Sylvia went through, and in turn, what that put Paul through, they’re both better people than they were. And if Paul hadn’t gone through that, he might never have ended up . . .” she paused. “Is it a spoiler alert if I tell people what Paul did that he needed those lessons he learned?”

 I frowned for a moment. “Better keep that under your hat for now.”

Alano snorted. “She’s not wearing a hat.”

“It’s an English expression. It means keep it a secret.” I explain. The language he’d grown up with didn’t have a lot of the idioms that we have.

“But you might never write about how Paul . . .”

“Alano!” I held his gaze. “Even if I never write about what Paul ended up doing, I don’t want you spoiling anything I do decide to write.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, you’re the boss. But I think the readers should know that I enjoyed Paul’s visit.”

“Alano!” I put everything I had into spearing him with the ‘I’m-your-author-don’t-betray-me’ look.

 He fell silent, and I turned back to Amy. Thank you, for sharing that with me, and with everyone I share these notes with.”

Amy shrugged. “I’m happy to help.”

“You are one of my characters that I feel good about. You’ve learned the lessons I’ve tried to teach. Unlike some other people I know.” I glanced at Alano, and he just cast me another cheesy grin.

I scrolled down on my phone. “The next question is for Auntie Donna.”

“Oh, finally!” Auntie Donna leaned forward. “I love answering questions, although, asking them gives me a satisfaction too. Especially when the answers can get a murderer caught!” Her eyes gleamed with a hint of adventure.

I nodded. “I know you love adventure, but this question is about Jessa. How do you think she feels about me having killed off her Mom, and having a step-mom? In my original plan, she still had her mom, and Michelle wasn’t in the picture.”

Donna harrumphed. “You better never let her find out that you could have saved her mom! She might turn on you. But in all fairness, she’s handled it well. She would have more trouble with it, but if it weren’t for her mom’s death, she never would have strayed from the family business, or met Clay! She still hurts, but she understands that in the long run, it’ll work for the best,”

I turned to Jared. “I feel probably worse about talking to you than anyone.”

“Then don’t.” Alano cut in. “No one is making you ask us these sentimental questions.”

I ignored Alano, and held Jared’s gaze. He looked like he was about to bolt. “Jared, have you seen any good come from your dad’s imprisonment? Or is the pain still too much? Do you struggle with being so close to Ty after what your dad did to him?”

Jared scrubbed a hand across his face and stared at the ceiling. He sagged back against the couch. “I’ll never be okay with my dad being in jail. It’s just . . . not right. But I see good in it too. If Dad hadn’t killed Bill Carson, then I wouldn’t have ended up living with Uncle Wyatt, and if Uncle Wyatt hadn’t taken me in, then the boys’ home wouldn’t have ever happened and . . . well, a lot of guys would be in worse shape then they are today. If Dad wasn’t in jail, I’d have probably gotten myself killed by now, or been locked away for life because of some gang murder. And of course, I might not have ever met my little brother. Squirt would have probably ended up in a gang too. Maybe even an enemy gang. I could have killed him.”

I nodded. The pain in his eyes would always haunt me, but his attitude was convicting. He could see the good in the midst of the pain.

I turned my focus to Alano, and watched him squirm.

“If I’d have known you were going to ask me sentimental questions, I’d have never come!” Alano glanced towards the door. “I thought you’d want to know about my fighting secrets. Or maybe about the snake hunts.”

I shook my head. “If you’d have made Willie come like he was supposed to, you wouldn’t have to answer his question for him. How does Willie see Jerry’s death now that many of the Carabayo tribe have found Christ?”

Alano snorted. That was a habit of his I’d have to work on, but later, when no one would see the fight. “If you think I’m going to share Willie’s emotional heart, you’ve got another thing coming.”

I leaned back with a slight smile. There was one way I could make Alano answer me. “Alano. If you answer the question about Willie, and the one I’m going to ask about you, then you can tell everyone about you and . . .”

Alano’s smirk remained. “You think I wasn’t going to tell everyone anyways? Even without your permission?” He paused, then nodded. “But okay, I’ll tell you about Willie. He still has a hard time with Jerry, but what did you expect? Things like that don’t go away overnight.” His brow creased, and I knew he had to be thinking about Yara’s mother.

The serious crease in his brow didn’t disappear as he stared into the cold fireplace. “Willie thanks God for the salvation of the Carabayos, and he knows it probably wouldn’t have happened without Jerry’s death, but he still hurts from it. He always will.”

I nodded. How could I expect anything less? And it did good to see the concern on Alano’s face for Willie. It assured me that I’d done the right thing with . . . but that’s his news. “Alano, I know this is painful, but what about Yara’s mother? What do you feel about her?”

Alano’s fists tightened till his brown knuckles appeared nearly white. He crossed his arms, no doubt to hide the tremble. “I don’t have to answer that.”

I pursed my lips. I hated to do this but . . . “You actually do have to answer me.”

“You can’t make me.” If a voice could be hard as stone, his was hard as diamond.

I bit my lip. “I hate to threaten, but yes, I can make you. If you don’t answer my questions, I can arrange an unfortunate ending to your relationship. Carmen isn’t immune to every disease.”

Alano gave me a dagger glare. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “I feel guilty.” Everything about his face showed repulsion at having to share his feelings in front of people. He glanced at Jared, then closed his eyes. “Everyone knows what I said in Mission of a Lifetime. I didn’t love her and I could have done the simplest things to make her life better. If I’d have cared more, I could have probably even saved her life. Then Yara wouldn’t have ever been taken from me, and she wouldn’t have a limp, or a damaged hand. Or scars on her back, or the painful memories.”

I winced at the pain in his voice. He paused for a moment, and then sighed. “I suppose it’s worked for the best though. I would have never left the Carabayos if she hadn’t died, and then I’d have never gotten saved. And I’d be a lousy chief. I’d probably be killing people right now. I might have even killed Willie.”

 He sighed again and opened his eyes. He paused again, and a slight smile crossed his face. "And then there’s Carmen. Spoiler alert or not, I don’t care if the world knows that I love her.” A smile flickered at the corners of his mouth. “And while I feel guilty at times for the past, and the pain, and the killing, I don’t have any guilt about Carmen. She’s . . . an amazing woman. I only regret that I never got to know Yara’s mother enough to know how amazing she was.”

I glanced around the room. The mood had turned sober. Everyone stared at something different and they all avoided my gaze, as if they worried I would ask them a question that would tear into their past.

I cleared my throat. “Okay, guys, you guys are great! I love you all, and I’m thrilled at how open you’ve all been, but now for some fun questions.”

Everyone’s shoulders sagged in relief.

“Alano, you seem thrilled to talk about fighting and hunting. What’s the strangest thing you’ve ever hunted?”

Alano grinned. “My sister’s pet anaconda. It got lose during one of Father’s meetings with the village officials. I was pretty young, and had to hunt it with my first knife. We ate it for supper that night. Wasn’t half as exciting as hunting monkeys, but much more challenging because I had to avoid the people as well as find the snake.”

Auntie Donna cleared her throat. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I have a question for Alano. Where is your relationship with Carmen?”
Alano glanced at me, as if daring me to stop him. “She’s my wife.” He kept a straight face, but his eyes twinkled.

“You should have brought her!” Amy exclaimed.

Alano let the grin loose, changing his usually serious face to one of pure joy. “I would have, but she’s from the states! I couldn’t let her see how awkward I am in her world. Besides, she doesn’t enjoy travel like I do, and she felt needed at the clinic.”

I turned to Jared. “Jared, you seem to be the head guy at the home after Uncle Wyatt. In the first few years, did you have to fight much with the new boys to establish that role?”

Jared shook his head. “No. Not much. It only took one fight, and it was settled.” He winced. “I probably shouldn’t have been so hard on him but . . . well, there wasn’t any trouble after that.”

I couldn’t resist the smirk. I could read between the lines enough to know that he wasn’t explaining just how much he’d beaten up Trevor to establish who was top man.

“Auntie Donna, you seem to have a love for mysteries. Apart from the death of Austin Royce, have you ever had an intense mystery to solve?”

“I declare, I certainly have! The most exciting one, was when I was a kid, and my house was broken into. I had the thief behind bars in a week.”

I smiled at her enthusiasm. It was something I’d have to ask more about later. “And Amy, what has been the hardest adjustment to the farm? The work? Early hours? The smells? The dead animals?”

Amy laughed. “It’s all been an adjustment! But I think the biggest adjustment, has been the freedom. There’s so much space here. So much land. It’s not like the small town house I shared with Uncle Keith and Aunt Fay. It’s breathtaking to be able to go outside and yell at the top of my lungs, or run for an hour without bothering any neighbors. And then, of course, there’s how friendly everyone is! In Des Moines, I never spoke to anyone besides a few friends from school. Here, everyone I see seems to think they know me! I can’t even go to town without at least four people asking me about the family.”

I glanced at my watch. Of all the bother. “I’m going to have to go soon, but thank you all for coming! It’s fun to meet you all in person, and I’m glad you’re getting to meet each other.”

“I got a question for you,” Alano said.

The gleam in his scared me. I wasn’t sure I’d like his question.

“When are you going to write that next book about us down in Columbia? I miss the adventure you always bring. And what about the rest of them?” He glanced around the room. “Are you going to leave Donna, Jared and Amy to musty old books on the shelves or are you going to write more about them too?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s a lot going on right now.”

He snorted. “A lot going on? Really? That awkward kid you’ve been writing about. Titus is his name I believe? There’s no way his life in a church is half as exciting as mine! And what about those three girls you’ve been writing about? Sisters, I believe. No one cares about people from the past. The French and Indian wars, tar and feathering, all that nonsense can stay in the history books. You don’t have to write it!”

I glared at him. “How do you know about what I’ve been working on?”

Alano shrugged. “If anything good came from that Gonzalez situation was that it showed Uncle Simon how much he like computer hacking. He’s taught me a thing or two. Your computer isn’t that challenging to hack into.”

I glared at him. “Alright, that’s it.” I stood up and glanced around the room once again. “I hope to call another meeting sometime soon, but until then, good-bye.”

I gave one last look, and then headed from the room.







If you’ve enjoyed this ‘interrogation’ with a few of my characters, you can help me out! Sometime, I’d like to do another meeting with some of them. Do you have any questions you’d like to ask ANY of my characters? If you have ANY questions for ANY character from ANY of my books, let me know! Leave a comment with your questions, or use the contact form on the side, and I’ll be sure to use them in my next interview.