When Emma meets him, you get the feeling that on any other day, in any other town, she'd really fall for him. But there's something strange going on. Whenever he comes near she feels repulsed and scared. Not yet accepting of the fact that she has powers of intuition, she brushes it off as him being a player and nothing more.
Jesse is Emma's ticket out of town. He's ready to shoot off to New York to find his father and start up a musical career, record and all. It's such a perfect plan--Emma should definitely go with him and be done with Springvail. But things seldom go as planned; fictional people are just as messed up as real people. You can shout all you want but they're going to do what they're going to do.
I realized the other day that all my characters are of a different time. You won't find a hippie, earthy Emma anymore. She's all vinyl records and art, with her long hair ala Joni Mitchell and Jodie Foster. William is this Hemingway addict who is full of passion and lust for life--even though he's half-dead; like a ghostly Kerouac stuck in a small town.
And then there's Jesse. Rock star, fast car, live until you die. You gotta love that. I do. I love Jesse so much. Like, I actually blush when I talk about him sometimes. I know it's pathetic but darnitt, he got to me. Again, you're not going to find this guy anywhere else, just in my book (good plug, eh?). He is truly a part of the 70's that drifted away on the guitar strums of Keith Richard's blonde Fender Telecaster. If he came screeching up to our driveway in his black Camaro, I'd look out the window, then at my family, the window again, family again--grab my jacket and say, "I'll be back."
Sometimes I wonder if we create these characters because we need them in our lives. Dependent on us for their very existence, we feed off their energy, and then that energy comes back to change us again and again. It's a circular thing. But don't think about it too hard, it's just me and a brain cell having a party today.
Jesse had to be in my book. You'll see why. And you'll be mad at me.
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