I semi-quickly decided (again) that a third-person change to Forest of Lies wouldn't be what I thought it needed. My Draft IV is finally getting along at nice pace, much to my elation, and it is doing just fine in Marian's voice. It really is her story.
That doesn't keep me from writing random scenes from various points of view. Because although it's Marian's story, lives don't happen in isolated bubbles. Everything's connected. That's why I had quite the learning curve to overcome when I started writing personal essays for colleges. My life didn't HAPPEN in 500-word isolated events.
And neither did Marian's. Everyone around her had a jumble of things he (mostly "he"s, though a couple of "she"s exist) was dealing with, and the interactions between humans are never completely one-sided. Neither is a life truly changed by just one event. Even at my age I can tell that changes tend to come from a bunch of things, some of them you don't even recognize.
So, I write my own fan-fiction. I've written from Robin's POV, from third-person Robin's POV, from Much's POV, third-person Much's POV, Will's POV, and Friar Anselm's POV. In some cases, it's not just one scene--it's several, from all stages of the book, even post- and pre-Forest of Lies.
It's not just a little sad, it's a little ridiculous.
I hope that writing from all of these different angles helps develop the characters and help them seem more real even through Marian's heavily-tinted eyes.
(Sorry, dear, it's true.)
Do any of you write your own fan-fiction? Do you think it has any purpose to fill beyond author-ly whims? And perhaps a desire to get away from the real task at hand...e.g., editing a book after waiting for two years to do so. (Not that I'd EVER do that.)
And now, I'll break a pattern I've held to for awhile and share a piece of my own Forest of Lies fan-fiction (Anselm's POV, because for some reason, I love the way he looks at Robin):
“Robin, stop pacing. You’re making me tired.”
He stopped, tense as a stag on alert, gaze skittering around the forest, avoiding looking at me.
“Out with it, lad,” I said. “I don’t have all day to wait for you to talk.”
His gaze dropped to the ground.
I let a few moments passed and heaved a sigh. “If you don’t talk, I’m going to take you by the back of your tunic and make you take my doctoring.”
“It’s...” he started.
“I need more than one word,” I said.
“Marian,” he said.
I realized I might not need more than one word. “What about her?” I asked, trying not to appear ruffled.
“You know why I took her in.”
“Yes. Your dream and your sympathy.”
That brought his gaze up.
“Don’t deny it, Robin, I know your heart.”
He let out a strange laugh, gaze dropping again.
“What is it, Robin?”
“I like her,” he said.
I blinked. “Does she like you?”
He laughed again, this time bitterly. “Oh no, not at all. And I don’t even know what it is--I’ve never felt this way before. I wish...I wish she would like me.”
The eyes were on me now, those intense blue windows into an intense, lonely soul.
“...ah,” I said.
“She likes Much.”
“Everyone likes Much.”
“Except Will,” Robin reminded me.
“Yes, that,” I said, uncomfortable.
“Please pray for me?” Robin said, clasping his arms across his stomach as if it hurt him.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I said, frowning. “I’ll pray if you let me look at you.”
His eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know what to do,” he whispered.
“God will help you,” I said. “He got you into this, He’ll get you out.”
“I hope so.”