Sora James interview: Daniel Janssen
Unable to complete my story arc for Unravel a Dream, I decided to spend time with my leading man to see what I could find out about him. No sitting room on the metro today as I carry on with my morning commute. I see him standing next to me, tall and rugged, his presence larger than life. He is half a head taller than the tallest man I can see, his longish ash-blond hair a controlled shaggy arrangement that doesn't quite touch his shoulders. He is wearing a light blue button-down shirt over a pair of straight-leg jeans. Brown leather loafers gleam under the fluorescent lights. I want to touch the scar under his right eye and make him smile. He looks perfect, and I could get lost just looking at him and his glacial stare. I created him. I know what is under the gruff surface, under all that masculine show of strength. There is warmth, passion, a fierce intellect, a being who is afraid to love. I need answers.
It's too noisy to talk on the metro so we go to a nearby café. It’s a cute place, all small marble tabletops poised on cast iron legs. He has his long legs crossed into the space between our table and the next. His hand dwarfs the espresso cup he holds by the top edge between his long finger and thumb. His is a presence that is domineering and a bit arrogant. He is taking up space people need to use to get through to the other side and yet no one begs his pardon to walk past. If he were anyone else, I would see looks of annoyance from people for having to carry their coffees the long way around to find a table. But he is so beautiful, the people flow around him as if to say, "Don't worry. I'll move around you as long as I can look at you."
I still need answers.
"Daniel, what's the problem with you and Sandra?" He puts down his tiny cup and looks over at me as if just registering that he isn't sitting here alone.
"Problem?" he asks.
"No," I say. "No business negotiation tactics. I need to give a good reason in my novel as to why you and Sandra aren't an item when you are clearly in love with each other."
"Don't say that," he says, his voice low. His expression is neutral but his eyes have gone deep. He doesn't want to let me in.
"Why not?"
"It's not..." He wants to say that it isn't important, but he knows that it isn't true.
"Talk to me, Daniel. Why don't you want to acknowledge love?"
He takes a long, drawn-out sip of his espresso before answering. Maybe if he takes long enough, my question will go away. Not happening. "Because when you love people, they don't stay."
"Do you think Sandra would leave?"
"She might not want to, but that is what would happen, eventually."
"Why would she leave if she doesn't want to? That sounds ridiculous."
"My parents didn't want to leave. Celine didn't want to leave."
"Daniel, they didn't die because you loved them."
"Yes, yes, I know," he says. He crosses his long legs the other way as people look over in appreciation. "But I loved them, and they died."
