The characters
When I started writing The Shark, I had only the vaguest sense of the two main characters, Carmen and Raych. I knew they were two young women who barely knew each other who’d met on a psychiatric ward. I knew they were each affected differently by the serial killer in their neighbourhood, that they’d go on to abduct the prime suspect in the case, and that both needed a big enough backstory to make this credible. The premise was strong, but these characters refused to come into focus. I worked on them for months, starting the book from scratch five times in the first year, unable to get beyond the first fifteen thousand words.
Raych’s voice came first. Her situation and her rage were more accessible, while Carmen revealed little of herself, even to me. But in the end, it was Carmen’s character that brought most of the plot into the light. Hers was the darker of the two personalities, the character I found most unsettling to spend time with, the more secretive and unreliable of these two unreliable narrators. It was only when I leaned into that and allowed Carmen to step into her true nature that her part in this uneasy alliance became clear. Carmen and Raych were always a foil for one another, in my head as well as on the page.
Raych’s voice came first. Her situation and her rage were more accessible, while Carmen revealed little of herself, even to me. But in the end, it was Carmen’s character that brought most of the plot into the light. Hers was the darker of the two personalities, the character I found most unsettling to spend time with, the more secretive and unreliable of these two unreliable narrators. It was only when I leaned into that and allowed Carmen to step into her true nature that her part in this uneasy alliance became clear. Carmen and Raych were always a foil for one another, in my head as well as on the page.