A Writer's Feelings

A long time ago, in a drama class I had once taken (or had no choice but to take), it was said that an actor must hold memories of different emotions and let them surface at the appropriate times to convey the full feeling of a scene they must enact. Writers probably have to do the same to. They must get into the hearts of their characters, rejoice in their happiness, languish in their depression, experience their grief.

In my new one-shot Blossoms, I will explore Wolfram's feelings on his being rejected by Yuuri. The odd thing is that, when I first wrote it, I was much in the same mood. Sad, but willing to enjoy the good weather. I have a feeling, however, that if I wrote about dark clouds and rain, Wolfram would have taken to his (own) bed and lain there for days on end, in sheer depression.

I'm not sure I want to have such a connection with Wolfram. But I have chosen to write about him, and that's what I think he would feel. Despite all his fire, there is one thing that could bring him down faster than the Shinkansen, and that is Yuuri. Nor can Wolfram blame Yuuri - one simply cannot force another to have feelings that they do not already have, and if they did, well, they have major issues.

At the end of the one-shot, Murata is seen walking underneath the balcony Wolfram is standing on, and the former sees Wolfram's tear-stained visage. He immediately calls Yuuri an idiot. Well, maybe Yuuri is an idiot and doesn't realize how much he is hurting Wolfram. And indeed, unless Yuuri is in love with Conrad or some such (something I find kind of unlikely, because it just seems unromantic), Yuuri has no idea how it feels to be rejected. That may be what Murata is referring to in my one-shot: the fact that Yuuri doesn't know much about things. I don't believe that Murata would want, however, for Yuuri to force himself to feel something for Wolfram that he does not.

Both Yuuri and Wolfram have it pretty bad. I'm not sure which one is worse, to be the one to reject or to be rejected. And...that's saying something, for being one who has felt both simultaneously. If only I had an answer.