Trigger Warning: This blog deals with some difficult issues such as murder and crimes scenes.
Through most of my writing adventures, I have thrown little stones and paper wads at my characters. I have wounded, smacked around, and almost killed them. I have sent rumors of their deaths to relatives. But as far as I can recall, which is never a sure thing, I have never killed anyone.
Until my contemporary Romance, Crazy for Trying, erupted from my brain. I’ve killed two secondary characters in the course of the story. I left behind a widow with two children. Their story will unfold in future stories. But there, I can carve two notches on my laptop.
Shortly after I wrote that my best friend was murdered. There’s no mystery to the event, we know who did it. We don’t know why. The loss of this person who was part of my day to day life has been very hard to get used to. So I expect I will be drawing on this emotion and experience to make my writing better. I hope to write a character like my friend, too, to keep her in our memories.
The most amazing part of the murder for me was being in her apartment after the fact. Not immediately. I was very nearly the one who discovered the murder. But I chickened out on disturbing her when I hadn’t gotten a reply from her all day. I didn’t think she was home. I expected she had told me her plans for the day and I had just forgotten.
Back to the scene after the police and EMT personnel were done. Anything that got blood on it had to be removed. We’re talking carpet, artwork, bedding, bed, stuffed animals, pillows, and upholstered furniture. I found it creepy to be walking on the cement floor, mostly because I didn’t know exactly where she had fallen.
The idea that her blood went so far is also a little weird and impressive. I’ve always heard that the amount of blood in the human body is more that what you might expect. Luckily, the HaxMat people had been in the apartment as well, removing the fluids, and the smell.
I could not be there without trying to pick up a vibration or sense of what happened. I imagine I had too much going on in my own heart to sense anything. The horrific loss of my friend, the damage to her children and grandchild, her elderly parents, and all her friends had put me in a state of shock. I didn’t actually break down and mourn her for several months.
What I can use from this is the emotional tugging and the things that I will never forget. The moment my husband said what had happened. The moment her daughter hugged me and cried. The days when I tried to carry on walking the same route that my friend and I walked three times a week.
As well, I learned so much on crime scene handling and what the place should look like after the experts leave and the family has to deal with the rest. These things, while I would give a lot to have never gone through them, I can now use to improve my writing. My friend definitely would approve.
Thanks for reading, I will be back on Thursday.