I can imagine your incredulity when learning that the hero of my new book was Griffin Nichols, especially if you’ve read The Stories Stars Tell. He is, after all, a villain. Except there was this moment, a single slice of something that gave me pause.
Here. Let me show you. This is a scene from The Stories Stars Tell from Tanner’s point of view. Keep an eye on Griffin (fair warning - lots of strong language):
An hour later, Griff and I are still killing shit with video game remotes from his couch. This feels normal with the stupid, meaningless banter and helps me forget what happened the night before graduation with him, with my mom, with my dad for a little while. The moment I realize it, however, I recognize the truth. Griff makes me forget, helps me run away. This feeling is temporary, because the moment I get back into my truck and drive home, it will all come rushing back.
“Dude! What the fuck. I said to go right!” His phone chimes. He looks at it, sets it down, and resumes playing. “Danny texted there’s a party at the Quarry Friday night. Bonfire. Wanna go?”
I do. I don’t. I think about Emma and wonder if she’d want to go. “Maybe.”
“Fuck, Tanner. You didn’t even show up at Marcus’s. What the fuck is up with you? You’re acting like a bitch.”
“Stop, Griff.” I press the controller and take out a sniper.
Griff’s character moves in front of mine on the screen and uses a wall to shield him from enemy fire. My character is behind his. The character steps out and gets shot.
Then he says, “I’m not the one who’s trailing after smarty-pants like she’s a bitch in heat. I’d never drop my boys for a chick.”
I slam the control onto the table and stand. “Shut the fuck up.” My fists are clenched.
Griff glances at my hands and leans back on the couch. “Why are you being so effin’ sensitive?”
I turn and walk to the door, afraid if I don’t put more distance between him and me, I might throw punches. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I turn around and look at him. “I thought we were friends. You were the closest thing I had to a brother.”
“That hasn’t changed.” He crosses his arms over his chest. The action strikes me as insecure, but I don’t get caught on it, too focused on what is on my mind.
“Yeah. It has.” It’s my turn to cross my arms over my chest. “You’ve been acting like a dick for months.”
“Well if I’d known you’d get your panties in a wad, I would have talked to you more like a lady.” He laughs.
I turn away and slam out of the house.
Did you see that?!?! “...he crosses his arms over his chest…” A moment!!! A flash image of Griffin with a stronger, close-up lens. It was just an obscure line, but I wasn’t the only one who picked up on it. Lavinia (instagram friend @instaraygram), an amazing beta reader and friend, noted after reading The Stories Stars Tell, that she was curious about Griffin. “I feel like there’s a story there,” she’d said. I couldn’t shake her observation. The more I read that line (because I had to read it so many times as I edited), the more curious I became. It was as if Griffin burrowed into my brain.
The truth, however, I didn’t want him there. I was resistant to the idea of writing Griffin’s story because I didn’t like him. How was I ever going to write a story about a character I didn't like? If I didn’t like him, neither would readers. Except there was that moment, that tiny portrait of his insecurity. Then the questions began: Why is Griffin insecure? What is he hiding behind all that douchiness?
And suddenly, I was thinking about answering those questions…
So, thanks to Lavinia, In the Echo of this Ghost Town and When the Echo Answers were born.