YOU MIGHT WANT TO TEAM UP WITH MY CHARACTERS
MY PLANS FOR THESE POSTS
I'm going to write blog posts about several of the characters in my kids-surviving-a-zombie-apocalypse novella. I'll be serializing the story (hopefully, on WattPad) eventually.
Logical, sane (and isn't that just a wee bit boring?) writers would open their posts with the MC. You know they would. I know they would.
But I see myself as more risk-taking/curious than logical; More whimsical, unique, and batshit-crazy than sane, so I shall travel a different road. And thus, first up is L'il Ms Badass, Britta Moretti. She's the MC/leader's right-hand man...er, girl...although he doesn't entirely trust her.
HOW GOOD, KIND BRITTA BECAME APOCALYPSE BRITTA
Britta is eleven years old. She's an orphan, due to living in a world full of parent-gobbling zombies that shuffle around, looking to munch on brainnnnns! (Although, to be honest, they also enjoy fingers and toes, kidneys, kneecaps, and Kardashian-shaped butt cheeks)
Now she's joined up with what is essentially a child army with barely enough members to keep death at bay. She's not by nature a joiner (Neither am I. Does that mean she's the fictional me?), but she's exceptionally bright, and realizes that surviving on her own is unrealistic - she has to sleep sometime - and there's safety in numbers.
Since the moment she witnessed one of her parents being eaten alive in front of her, the sweet, rule-following, compassionate side of her shut off like a water faucet, and hardened, survivor-mode Britta emerged. If you're of use to her, she'll fight to the death to protect you. If you're not, well, good luck.
It's always been a cruel world out there, but there used to be options, institutions, a multitude of human beings to go to for help. Now it's kill or be killed, kill or be eaten, kill and kill and kill again, until you feel your true self, your inner kindness, your very soul, slip away.
And Britta is fine with that. The world is what it is, and she has no delusions about normal life returning.
Need someone to find food and bring it back to the group, no questions asked? Britta considers herself the meat-provider.
Want information extracted from a captured enemy (Human gangs in a post-apocalyptic world can make zombies seem like poetry-reading English professors, by comparison)? Britta's methods may violate the Geneva Convention, but she'll get you want you want, then "dispatch" the hulking-yet-whimpering prisoner with her knife, and she won't even blink.
Find yourself surrounded by a horde of hungry zombies? Her mountain ice-axe will clear the way.
And THAT is why I started with Britta. ;-}
(The image at the top of the page is by kellepics, on Pixabay.com)