Blog 3: Characters and Yearning
Mark Twain once said, "Write what you know." I'm not sure if he was an incarnation of Huckleberry Finn or if he knew that boy or both. I think we can all agree that Twain knew his characters well. Characters are the threads in the fabric of every story.Â
Who doesn't love Elizabeth Bennett and, therefore, Mr. Darcy? Scout Finch? Or even Harry Potter? Some characters are so well written they take root in our history like the small tree growing from an overpass on I-85. They don't quite fit in our world but remain distinctly and unquestionably a part of it.Â
Character writing is hard, and the bar is high when you try to set yourself among the likes of Twain, Austen, Lee, and Rowling. I can only feebly attempt to accomplish a well-written character who is flawed but also deeply loved. Characters connect us to intimate parts of ourselves we never knew existed. But authentic characters, the ones authors write as truth, are the ones who change our lives.
Waves the graphic novel, reveals profound truths about miscarriage and loss that gets misplaced in the noise of today's society. Â Often, we are sad for those suffering from such a loss but seek to minimize it because they weren't real yet. If we never saw a baby smile, then were they real? Society re-writes hard stories because it's easier than dealing with some harsh realities. I want to do the opposite.
I decided to stick with the "Fear of Falling" because, as a chronically sick individual, I know the struggles of the elderly at the ripe old age of 34. I know my character intimately, although I'm still struggling with a name for her. I know her because she is a compilation of the elderly and aging individuals in my life. This story began as an ode to my 89-year-old neighbor Betty Bagwell (yes, that's her real name), who is the most fearless woman I've ever known. At 89, she still lives alone with minimal assistance, grocery shops, and takes her trash to the road. Recently, my aging neighbor had a fall, and her brave face melted away into a puddle of tears. The ambulance no more had pulled out of the drive then I found Betty in her kitchen sobbing into her arms. Immediately seeing me, she pulled up and apologized for the tears because, Betty said, "I never cry. At least not where anyone can see me." At that moment I realized, despite her hardiness, she was terrified of what came next. Here at the end of her life, Betty has no lifeline, no one to help her navigate her last years. Â
My main character is also loosely based on my grandfather, Jack Mayes, who could never entirely accept his old age. Vain until the end, he would often ask people, "How old do I look?" and then would promptly answer the question by saying that he didn't look 85. After taking a bullet for our country and living life without abandon, he couldn't come to terms with age. He seemed surprised at the man he saw in the mirror, even disgusted by it. Even at 85, he was always spoiling for a fight, and without the oxygen, he probably could have taken more men on for size.
In my time spent with the aging, I've seen them differently than the sweet old people who are "ready" for what comes next. The youth of today seem to spin this yarn that all older people are ready for the next phase of their lives, so it's ok when their bodies begin to fail. It's the lie we tell ourselves, so we don't question our own failing mortality. Sometimes even elderly deaths are diminished by the old phrase "Well he/she lived a good life." I'm not saying they didn't, but my grandfather clung to life until his last breath, and Betty isn't giving up anytime soon. Betty may outlive us all. As an author, I want to honor them and others like them by humanizing them, by making their fears as real as ours, and by commending their bravery. My character is yearning for life, for just one more breath, one more day. This one is for you, Ms. Betty. And to you, Grandaddy.