I’ve been pulling my hair out for the last half hour, struggling to write what was supposed to be a simple, albeit emotionally charged, scene from my novel. Why am I pulling my hair out, you ask? I have one word for you: Cian. Cian is the over-the-top-handsome-tormented-soul character of the story, the male counterpart to the heroine for a majority of the novel and her second love interest. He’s a powerful warrior from a conquering clan in the north with a body to match, that dark, curly hair us girls go ga-ga over, deep voice and eyes, and—sheesh, I’ve got to stop. He’s the most male component of the novel, offset by Xoe’s first lover, Soryn, who is still very much a warrior in his own right, but more a knight to Cian’s savage. I get all flustered just writing about him, because I’m in love with him as much as Xoe is.
So I went to write this scene where Cian conflicts with Nathander—when Cian refused to let me watch as he discovers his mate missing from their chambers. I don’t even get a peek at his subsequent rage, which he usually doesn’t have a problem letting others see. No, instead, he sat back in a hazy cloud, and told me in a disembodied voice that he doesn’t look like Kevin Sorbo.
>_< WTF do you mean, you don’t look like Kevin Sorbo? I demanded. I’m the writer; I decide what you look like!
He chuckles at me, and it sends a shiver down my spine.
I can’t get in his head; he’s too male for me to understand him sometimes, and yet here he is in my novel, causing headaches and heartaches for my girl Xoe. So instead of offering insight to you guys on how to deal with this situation, I want to know what you do to handle a character whose head you cannot get into, particularly because of a gender barrier.
Maybe Cian looks like…