Bad Guys

Last night I watched No Country for Old Men the gem adapted by the Coens and written by Cormac McCarthy--No Country for Old Men (Vintage International) for the 87th time. Now if you haven't checked out either one...what the heck are you waiting for??  Javier Bardem plays the baddest bad-ass Anton Chigurh.  The book and the movie are pure, unadulterated, killed by an air tank awesomeness. I dig bad guys.  Perhaps because I fancy myself a bit of a, well it rhymes with dussy. And I one of my favorite parts of writing books is the creation of my bad guys. 

They always even the tinest trait, at least mine do, that makes them a bit likable--even if they represent everything that's repugnant to you, or me. When I was revising Five Percent of Nothing, the one of the main bad guys (and there are quite a few the heroine deals with) is Dylan Parker.  He's a drug addicted, abusive adulterer.  Not much there that would qualify him for a Nobel, but he has an air of charm.  I'm editing my newest release The Umbrella and the bad guy Billy, has a most disgusting "solution" for world famine and is a thieving psychopath, but again, there's something there.   

Most of my bad guys are, well guys.  But I'm working on a bad girl (and not the minx-ish, pillow fight kind) for my upcoming novel that I'm having a lot of fun with.  And there's no need to page Dr. Freud because I recognize the usefulness of these bad guys and gals not only in my books, but in my life.  I use them to release the stress of being.

Because while the me that's sitting in front of this screen at 2:45 am on Wednesday, August 31 may not want to terrorize someone like Manu Tushar does in Brazilwood, I really got pissed off at the at the man in the grocery store today who almost hit me with his Prius and released my anger by writing a fantastic thriller scene for my latest WIP.