He wasn’t what I’d expected. People who don’t write tend to think that the writer has things pretty well planned out and more or less in hand when writing a novel, but this simply isn’t the case. Not with me, anyway. I have the main characters in my mind, and I think I know what they’re going to do. I have a decent idea of who the main secondary characters are, though individuals always surprise me. But I cast the bit players as I need them, and the actors who show up to audition for the parts are frequently like nothing I would have imagined.
Master Winter arrived in the story, sleek as a seal but round as a walrus, with a voice that might have inspired Stradivarius to create his violins and a streak of callousness that makes me distrust him, even though I plan him to be one of the good guys. Maybe it’s the hundreds of little, pointy teeth. Maybe it’s the faint air of pomposity.
I don’t know. He’s a minor character, but minor characters before have turned into something other — I think I’ll be keeping a wary eye on him.
