In the same novel, I clarified immediately.So the new protagonist was presented so that it fit perfectly in the substrate of the plot: was a friend, almost a brother, extracted from pages where the primitive hero had emerged, now dead for the purposes of the realities he had created, but alive in the memory of those who loved him and the Ruminations of the warin the present miserably reduced to third person singular. Before so died, he concluded.The subplot of transformation of the secondary character plunged him in a fierce anxiety. Pale image of the main protagonist, tracing paper of the mood that already could not exhibit, was missing genius the hero deprived of the cultural referents of its archetype.I hardly sleep thinking about it, he confessed. I had already noticed, by the trembling of his yellowish fingers by nicotine, the concern of their gestures, and a grimace that didn’t know him, that at times shrank the mouth to the left side in successive pulls. I wanted to know why not transformed the character into someone with whom you identify fully. He replied that it was not possible: beings that we create have their own life, he clarified.For more, fans that had kept alive the flame of the participation of the dead – as soon as I live – under incandescent light reflectors, nor identified with the new protagonist, there was a break of the Pact’s credibility between author and reader, so they slowly walked away, disappeared in the virtual fog, leaving the interpreter at the mercy of passersby whose permanence of short duration was not enough to guarantee the upward curve of the arc of transformation of the character.In short: was unhappy. Without ability to reaffirm or dismiss the spectrum of his creation that unknowingly blind between the irrelevant and what is essential, in the present was in an impasse.That was the short story that made me what obviously was a long history.
Did not have time to continue the conversation so I paid the account and we left, not without that I would have noticed that for the first time he did mention pay or divide the amount, so immersed was in the dilemma that consumed the existence.We said goodbye at the door. He lowered the hat on the front wing and lifted neck black overcoat, at the same time furtively looking on both sides of the street. Saw you away in attitude underhand, walking glued to the wall, hands in pockets, shoulders bent, head bowed, almost tucked into the chest Chin, as if he sought to pass unnoticed among people, early Court by itself and declared guilty before the judge of your consciousness.At that time I had the glimpse, almost certainty, that again had decided to kill the character. Original author and source of the article.