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well, i threatened to do it some time back, and i guess now i have.
enter Whitney Ballard into the pantheon of my world.
for some bizarre reason, while i was walking over half a mile to work in -4 degrees wondering why i'd forgotten my hat and how i could possibly make it to the library before death might overtake me, i was seized by the recollection of inventing this character and sudden realization of how i could use him to excellent effect within the existing story frame.
so this evening i threw down a quick sketch of the character (and one of his two dogs) and thought i would share it. sorry for the quality of the pict; this is literally scribbled on scratch paper.
i spent some time thinking about who Whitney Ballard is and came up with a few facts. he was born in 1836 in Louisiana (near as i can tell) to a poor family. his father was a bounty hunter before him (he learned the trade that way). his father was a mean drunk and knocked him around a little, but they were close. i think he has two little sisters, but i don't know what happened to them (they're living). his mother is dead (of course) and has been since he was a boy. he might have had a brother who's dead now as well. i'm not settled on the family particulars just yet.
Whit fell in love at 17 to a girl, Mattie, who was not much of a gatekeeper to her own virtue. he knocked her up and married her in '53, but she had bigger aspirations than living in the mud and eking out a pathetic living. after the baby was born (a girl named Violet), Mattie took to drinking and while Whitney was out trying to make a living for them, she neglected the child sorely. Violet was carried off by fever before her fifth birthday. this ticked Whit off and he went on his own after that, though he occasionally visits Mattie in the sticks now and then to see if she isn't dead yet. Whit's Pa finally kicked the bucket at the start of the war (some sort of horrible embolism, i think, after hearing the news of the election of the man in the funny hat).
Whit has a solid reputation for the job, though he is backward, disagreeable company for regular people. he was one of the posse who branded MishMash Morse with the S=S in '59. since Violet's death, he's gone increasingly misanthropic. some people consider him dangerous. he lives off the land, is an expert survivalist, has bad teeth, smokes cheroots, and rarely (if ever) bathes. he's likes music and is especially fond of his dogs (catahoula curs) who are well-trained in the business. he has never had any formal education, but can recognize his own name and a few other written words. he carries with him, at all times, his little daughter's doll (which he may or may not talk to ~ but not in a crazy way). he believes in a hellfire and damnation God (would follow whatever charismatic snake-wielding church may be the flavor of the week), that the African race is descended from Cain, that liquor is the devil's poison, and in the absolute righteousness of his occupation.
and that's Whitney Ballard.
how he figures into the story is wildly fun, but that's for another time.
: D
p.s. all of this character sketch is subject to change. i am well aware of my own tendency to go off the deep-end into dickensian stereotypes before i pull back and form a character's actual nature. so figure Whit's got some growing to do.
enter Whitney Ballard into the pantheon of my world.
for some bizarre reason, while i was walking over half a mile to work in -4 degrees wondering why i'd forgotten my hat and how i could possibly make it to the library before death might overtake me, i was seized by the recollection of inventing this character and sudden realization of how i could use him to excellent effect within the existing story frame.
so this evening i threw down a quick sketch of the character (and one of his two dogs) and thought i would share it. sorry for the quality of the pict; this is literally scribbled on scratch paper.
i spent some time thinking about who Whitney Ballard is and came up with a few facts. he was born in 1836 in Louisiana (near as i can tell) to a poor family. his father was a bounty hunter before him (he learned the trade that way). his father was a mean drunk and knocked him around a little, but they were close. i think he has two little sisters, but i don't know what happened to them (they're living). his mother is dead (of course) and has been since he was a boy. he might have had a brother who's dead now as well. i'm not settled on the family particulars just yet.
Whit fell in love at 17 to a girl, Mattie, who was not much of a gatekeeper to her own virtue. he knocked her up and married her in '53, but she had bigger aspirations than living in the mud and eking out a pathetic living. after the baby was born (a girl named Violet), Mattie took to drinking and while Whitney was out trying to make a living for them, she neglected the child sorely. Violet was carried off by fever before her fifth birthday. this ticked Whit off and he went on his own after that, though he occasionally visits Mattie in the sticks now and then to see if she isn't dead yet. Whit's Pa finally kicked the bucket at the start of the war (some sort of horrible embolism, i think, after hearing the news of the election of the man in the funny hat).
Whit has a solid reputation for the job, though he is backward, disagreeable company for regular people. he was one of the posse who branded MishMash Morse with the S=S in '59. since Violet's death, he's gone increasingly misanthropic. some people consider him dangerous. he lives off the land, is an expert survivalist, has bad teeth, smokes cheroots, and rarely (if ever) bathes. he's likes music and is especially fond of his dogs (catahoula curs) who are well-trained in the business. he has never had any formal education, but can recognize his own name and a few other written words. he carries with him, at all times, his little daughter's doll (which he may or may not talk to ~ but not in a crazy way). he believes in a hellfire and damnation God (would follow whatever charismatic snake-wielding church may be the flavor of the week), that the African race is descended from Cain, that liquor is the devil's poison, and in the absolute righteousness of his occupation.
and that's Whitney Ballard.
how he figures into the story is wildly fun, but that's for another time.
: D
p.s. all of this character sketch is subject to change. i am well aware of my own tendency to go off the deep-end into dickensian stereotypes before i pull back and form a character's actual nature. so figure Whit's got some growing to do.
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