s originally conceived, this book had one person who was going to act as an antagonist. This book also had a lot of question marks in the middle of it.

After I got through chapter 2, it was pretty clear there were going to be two antagonists. And then when I finished chapter 3, I realized there were three of them. Three is maybe too many, but they’re not wholly disconnected, so it was more like two and a half. Okay, I can live with that.

In chapter four, I discovered that one of my antagonists was harmless, and that the antagonist was really his older sister, who’s dominant. Very dominant. And, unfortunately, also very likable. So I now have two and a half antagonists, one of whom is sympathetic. Okay, I can deal with that. So the other one-and-a-half antagonists–the connected two–come into play.

And now, smack dab in the middle of chapter 6, the other antagonist turns into a sympathetic person. She really was supposed to be snotty and unlikable. She was supposed to be rude and uncaring. Instead, she learned Greek so that her younger sister wouldn’t read her diary. “What kind of antagonist are you?” I shriek. “Who cares about your stupid hats? EVERYBODY CARES. You’re an antagonist. We’re supposed to cheer when you’re thwarted.”

I have a problem. I cannot write villains or antagonists. And I think my problem stems from this: I may be mean, I may be snarky, and I may be supercritical, but I like basically everyone I meet. Some more than others, of course, but I like people. I have never met a real person I didn’t like. Thus, I can’t really write about someone I don’t like, either. This makes antagonists darned hard to write, though. All I can do is cross motivational wires and hope that someone likes my hero better than my antagonist.