In a previous post, I mentioned that both of my critique groups were family units of sorts, one of those having a crazy aunt and a long lost brother. Shortly after I posted that essay, I received an email from one of the members asking if she was the crazy aunt.

Could she be the crazy lovable one? Please?

I laughed for several minutes and then responded with “Sure, you’re the Crazy Aunt.” (I actually had someone else in mind when I wrote that.)

It got me thinking last night, lying in bed. That’s when my brain works best apparently. When it comes to being an actor, choosing a role, after the main characters, aren’t the more interesting ones the roles they want? When writing the story, sometimes aren’t the secondary characters sometimes just as interesting because we made them that way? Maybe even enough that they deserve their own story?

While our protagonist and antagonist might have larger than life aspects than the common man (the tortured soul alpha male billionaire in a romance for example), it’s the ancient paper skinned woman living across the hall from him who may hold the real key to his heart, who understands him more than anyone until the right woman comes along. That ancient woman may still dress in her 1930’s wardrobe, carry her teacup pooch in her purple leather Coach bag and wears shiny orange lip gloss.

So yes, even I want to be the Crazy Aunt, too.