People often assume Tony DeLucca is the hardest character for me to write. After all, he's the narrator of the Originally Pressed series. He's the one carrying the story, asking the questions, and trying to make sense of the mysteries unfolding around him.
But the truth is, Tony is a piece of cake. That's probably because, in many ways, he and I see the world through the same lens. The two of us are both observant. We care about people. And we both believe that community matters.
Jeremiah Olander is different. He's the character who challenges me the most.
To write Jeremiah, I have to set aside my own instincts and see the world through his eyes instead of mine or Tony's. He's not a challenge because I don't understand him. Quite the opposite. I know Jeremiah very well.
Every time I write him into a scene, I have to slow down, put on my Jeremiah face, and let his words flow through my fingers onto the page. Every paragraph becomes a little game of WWJD—What Would Jeremiah Do? He doesn't see the world the way I do. The man has opinions. Lots of them. He's stubborn, cynical, and not especially interested in softening the edges for someone else's comfort. If he thinks you're wrong, chances are you're going to hear about it. If he doesn't like something, you'll know that too. At his age, he's earned the right to stop worrying about what other people think. He carries years of experiences that shape every conversation, every reaction, and every silence.
To write Jeremiah honestly, I have to stop writing like the person I am, or try to be, and start writing like the man I might become twenty years from now.
During a recent interview, I found myself saying something that I hadn't really thought about until the words came out of my mouth.
"I think there's a little bit of Jeremiah in all of us."
The more I thought about it afterward, the more I realized how true it is. Most of us aren't like Jeremiah every day. But I'd venture to guess we've all had Jeremiah moments.
The day when patience runs out, and we mutter something under our breath, maybe a little louder than we mean to. When we dig in our heels because we're convinced we're right. Or times when we've simply had enough and decide the world can adjust to us for a change.
That's the part of Jeremiah I understand. There's a little bit of him in all of us. Most of us are just better at hiding it. Jeremiah reminds me that people are rarely as simple as they first appear. The rough edges usually have a story behind them. The people who are the hardest to understand are often the ones who have the most to teach us—if we're willing to take the time to listen.
Maybe that's why he continues to challenge me.
Every book asks me to step into his shoes again. Every conversation forces me to become him for a moment as I type. Sometimes I get it right. Sometimes I rewrite the same paragraph three or four times before Jeremiah finally sounds like...Jeremiah.
And honestly, I hope he always challenges me.
Because the day Jeremiah Olander becomes easy to write is probably the day I stop trying to understand him, and realize I've become him.