Where did Ambrose go, and is he coming back?
September 12, 2018
The characters get the credit when something works. The writer takes the blame when it doesn’t.
The moment I wrote The End to Conspiracy of Lies, I looked around, and Ambrose Lincoln was gone.
He didn’t even bother to say goodbye.
I had no idea I would miss him until I realized he wasn’t around anymore.
I rode along with him when he took an unauthorized flight during the late 1930s to Baden-Baden where the Jews had been staggered and stunned by the Night of Broken Glass.
Their world was coming to an end.
Nazi Brown Shirts vandalized their stores, packed them on trains, and shipped them off to camps that were building execution chambers.
No one knew. No one suspected.
I was with Ambrose Lincoln when he found out.
I rode along with him to Santa Fe when spies from Russia and Germany were frantically trying to pry the secrets out of Los Alamos, secrets about the most powerful bomb there ever was.
The country that owned it would rule the world.
Or the country would destroy it.
No one knew.
But many suspected the worst.
I felt a real kinship with Ambrose Lincoln.
He had no idea what was happening while the story rolled along, and neither did I. He was in the dark and made room for me.
We fought our way through a web of confusion together.
I simply threw him into opening sentence of a chapter, and Ambrose took it from there.
Characters always do.
Those of you who write know and understand.
The rest of you just figure we’re crazy, and you’re probably right.
The characters get the credit when something works.
The writer takes the blame when it doesn’t.
I missed Ambrose as soon as he left.
He didn’t tell me where he was going.
I didn’t know where he was.
But if he ever came back, we would sit down and do it all over again.
I already know where I’ll send him.
I just don’t know where I’ll find him.
I guess he’ll find me.
That’s how we got together in the first place.
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