When my son was little one of his favourite movies, which he watched over and over on VHS was “GhostBusters”. I thought it was pretty harmless. But when his little sister was only two, while her daddy was giving her a bath, piped up, all innocence and wide eyes, and declared, “I’ve seen s**t that would turn you white!” it gave me pause. Daddy didn’t react and she never said it again. We had a great laugh over it.
Forward to present. That boy is 31 now, and about to become a father himself. I selfishly believed that I would be the ‘mother’ who would be there to help out when that baby is born, the one who encouraged and coached, the fount of experience and wisdom who would be relied on. Why? Because the baby’s mother’s mother lives in Guyana and would not arrive until Baby was a few months old. Wrong. Mom decided to visit early, for four months instead of two. I had to give up that dream. It was, and is, a huge loss for me, emotionally. It’s only fair that I step back. After all, Mom will return to Guyana at the end of August. I will still be nearby enough to see Baby regularly. Letting go and being reasonable was, is, really tough.
Then, just a week ago my daughter announces that she has a job in Calgary, she is leaving in less than three weeks, and will be moving in with her boyfriend of only 5 months. I am in mourning. Another loss for me. I will rarely see her as none of us can afford the cost of flying. But I strive to be reasonable, encouraging, happy for her – a good mom. I swallow my grief, my tears.
Three nights ago I woke up with the mother of all nightmares. I dreamt my son, on the advice of ALL the experts, was on the way to the hospital for legal assisted suicide. We were at my house just getting ready to go out the door. We were both being ‘reasonable’, doing our best to stay calm, be supportive. He could have made the choice not to do this, but I could not push him in that direction because it was not the logical decision to make under the circumstances. There are more details that I will spare you. Now it doesn’t take an expert in dream interpretation to see that the dream was the result of the multiple feelings of loss I am experiencing and trying to ‘be reasonable’ about.
What has all this to do with writing? These incidents and the feelings associated with them make me ask questions, questions that help me write.
In the first instance, what made my two year old, barely able to put a sentence together, with no sign from anyone that it could be significant, latch on to that particular line from the movie? She didn’t know the word s**t was not acceptable. What made that line stand out for her? It wasn’t even spoken in a particularly exciting part of the movie.
In the present situations, how did my sense of loss and impotence come to express itself in my dream? And why did it manifest only in a dream? What were my motivations for being reasonable? Why did I react as I did? Where did that profound sense of loss come from?
This is the stuff that writers, or at least, I, as a writer, dissect and analyze. We burrow into the depths of human behaviour, emotions and reactions. We cannot turn away from what others might let pass unremarked. These become grist for the mill, the ground up grains sifted and sorted until we begin to understand the why, the how, the when and the where people do what they do.
While others may feel these things and let them pass naturally, treating them as parts of the normal flow of life, we, as writers use them, a piece here, another there, and combine them in new, unique ways to create our characters. We live with them, let them eat at us until they become our intimates. What we glean from our voluntary suffering (or not so voluntary) is deeper insight into what makes people tick. It allows us to use what we learn to understand our characters motivations, their inner feelings, their outer reactions, and how they reveal those to a reader.
By observing and staying with our own reactions, we can translate those insights into characters actions that require little explanation because the reader will understand, intuitively, what certain nuances mean, underneath. It helps us choose just the right hint; a shrug, a facial expression, a posture, that can show the reader the inner workings of a character’s mind, often without long-winded exposes. Because we ‘get it’ we are able to help the reader ‘get it’. We often don’t need to preach, to lecture, to carry on – to ‘tell’. We ‘show’ and the reader understands. All because we ‘need’ to understand. Only through our own understanding can we relate that to our readers.
This is a wonderful, powerful explanation or may I call it a speech! I always wondered why I analysed people, situations so much and then consoled myself I am a writer and am bound to! Reading your article, just made me feel safe.
Thank you. I hope it also makes you, and other writers feel ‘saner’. Sometimes we can begin to question if we are normal hen we go so much deeper than others.
Very poignant, Yvonne, and how right you are: as writers, we use every nuance of emotional, physical and spiritual experience encompassed in our lifetime. In fact, whether you believe they are imagined or real, all of our lifetimes.
Lovely post, Yvonne.
Thank you T.D.
Your post not only touched me, but showed your incredible strength. You brought this together beautifully. Sometimes when we look at one of our characters, we may say oh my and then realize a little piece of our very private selves just debuted. Thank you Yvonne!
Thank you so much. Sometimes it is hard to decide how much of myself to disclose. You just gave me more courage.
Lovely and poignant, Yvonne, thank you. Our pain makes for rich writing material.
Thank you Laurie. And sharing it with such supportive friends makes it easier.
Very, very nicely put, Yvonne. I always worried that something was wrong with me, the way I kept over-analysing and de-constructing every little event and action and reaction. I knew there was a reason, thanks 🙂
Isn’t it nice to know we are not alone? Thanks, Chris.
Fantastic! Interesting what we learn without even being aware.
Thank you
Great post, Yvonne. I like to think that we, as writers, have an avenue of opportunity to work through our painful feelings and observations that most people don’t have. It’s one of the blessings of our craft.
Yes, a blessing – or occasionally a curse,too. 🙂
Hi Yvonne,
Very touching! Thank you for sharing.
Michael Phelps
Thank you.
Wonderful post, Yvonne. Thank you for sharing yourself so openly.
Thanks DV.
Great thought-provoking post, Yvonne. I can’t help but to think that any part of me — what I’ve seen, heard, done, places I’ve been — all end up in my writing in some way or another as well as what I have seen happen to others, watched what they have done or said to others, and I don’t think we can not write about those things as they have affected us in some way or another. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with us.
I like to think of it as another way of ‘writing what you know’. Thanks.
New at the attempts of writing even though I’ve always wanted to, and your article gave me some points to expound on; a new way of looking at past experiences. Thanks so much for sharing.
You’re welcome. I’m glad I could add some thoughts.
This is an absolutely beautiful post Yvonne. It invokes many emotions whilst delivering sound and intelligent advice. You are an incredible woman. Thank you.
Wow, thank you. I’m blushing. 🙂
Thank you Yvonne, for sharing your feelings, thoughts and conclusions so clearly. You have the support of many friends (including all of us), but as we know, we carry our own grief through these kinds of losses. Your article helped me so much today, as I am going through something similar. As I said to an author-friend yesterday, “Well, on the bright side this is grist for the mill, and will provide an amazingly powerful ending to my memoir.”
Thank you. I’m glad this helped. It is all, as you say, grist for the mill, and writing can be therapeutic. And, for sure, we have so many friends here who care. This is such a wonderful community.
Wonderfully insightful post, Yvonne. If we are to inject believable emotions in our characters, we have to understand those emotions. To understand those emotions, we must live them, question them, analyze them. You really got me thinking with this one. Both about how we examine such situations in our lives, and if my 2 year old is ready for Ghostbusters…
lol. It really is funny how my daughter latched onto that line. No one in our family had reacted to it so she was not picking up on ours. Thanks for your comments.