Writing the Breakout Novel Workbook (38 page)

"There was a time when only lords and kings could fly peregrine falcons," he told Brady. "Having one was a sign of status. A privilege. And a great responsibility, not only to the bird but to oneself. When you fly your bird, Brady, you fly with him." ...

He saw Brady's shoulders straighten as his chest expanded.

Even Brady's father eventually recognizes the change in his son, and is himself transformed by it, as we see when late in the novel they go fishing together and Brady's father hooks an undersized spot tail, which he refuses to throw back:

"Aw, no one gives a damn about that, anyway," said Roy, opening the fish bucket on the bottom of the boat.

Brady shifted his weight on the narrow slat and took a breath. "I do," he said.

Roy paused, the wiggling fish dangling from his hand. He eyes his son narrowly and considered. "You telling me you care about this puny fish?"

"Yes, sir."

His father shook his head and chuckled low in his chest. "If that don't beat all. Those tree huggers really got to you, didn't they?" He held up the fish to look at it up close. "Explain it to me how this one little fish is gonna make one scrap of difference in that big river out there?" . . .

As he began trying to explain his newfound beliefs to his father, he was amazed when the belligerence on Roy's face slackened and he actually began listening to what his son had to say.

"See, if everyone went and kept the undersized fish they'd caught, that would be thousands of fish each summer that wouldn't grow to breed. Wouldn't be long before they'd die out and there'd be no fish left for anybody. But if I tossed my undersized fish back in the water, and the next guy did, and so on and so on then we can all come back here and go fishing another day. So the way I figure it, it
does
make a difference if I put that puny fish back in this river. Leastwise, I'd know I did the right thing. A man can live with that."

His father shook his head and half smiled. But he didn't laugh

at him. To Brady's surprise, he leaned over the edge of the boat and tossed that puny fish back into the river.

It seems that Brady even may have gained a better father. Brady has exceeded his own expectations. By changing, he gains more than he could possibly have hoped for, and what can make a novel more satisfying than that? Throughout
Skyward,
Monroe draws parallels between the healing of wild birds of prey and the healing of humans, and when in the epilogue we see that Brady has become a full-fledged falconer, we know that Monroe theme carries truth: By looking to the natural world around us and observing carefully, we can find the solutions to a sky full of human troubles.

Oh, in case you think that Brady's story wraps up too neatly, I should point out that in the end he doesn't get the girl. When some of Brady's former redneck friends shoot a rooster that Brady has bonded with and insult Clarice as well, Clarice begs him not to seek revenge for her sake, or anyone else's, but to take the high road and succeed for himself alone. This leap is too big for Brady, and the resulting argument results in their breakup:

"But you got to know how I feel about you."

She shook her head and said fervently, "Don't go there. Please."

"You can't deny there's something."

Clarice took a long, pained breath and dropped her hand. "No, I can't."

Then just when his heart jumped in hope, she dashed it quickly.

"But be real, Brady. There'd be so many problems and hassles that I can't even begin to list them. And why even bother? I'm graduating next week and then I'm going straight to California [to Stanford University]. I've got my own life. My own plans. Plans that don't include you."

"Oh." He stepped back, his face flaming, and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Forget it."

"Brady, it's not like I don't care."

He twisted his mouth.

"Don't do this. Not now. Let's just leave it the way it is."

"Yeah? And how's that?" . . .

"Two people who worked together at something they loved. Who had some good times. Friends. I like to think good friends."

Just friends?
Ouch. Monroe is a fine enough novelist to know that you can't always get what you want. Except in the case of Clarice, Brady really doesn't have to settle too much. Neither do we. Because Monroe fully plays out her theme through this secondary character, our satisfaction is magnified.

In Ann B. Ross's Miss
Julia Speaks Her Mind,
we already know rich Southern banker's widow Julia Springer is served up a gumbo of problems when her husband's illegitimate nine-year-old son arrives in her life. Among these is the challenge to her husband's will, and later to her own mental competence, that is being mounted by her local Presbyterian church, which is counting on her inheritance from her dead husband to fund a family activities center.

Her pastor's attempts to cause her to doubt her decision-making capability, to seduce her by proxy, and generally to undermine her willpower, are oily and shameful. They also are amplified by a larger denominational problem that surfaces one Sunday morning when Pastor Ledbetter preaches against ordaining women in the Presbyterian Church on the grounds that the practice is not supported by scripture. Miss Julia has a low opinion of this sermon:

I tried my best to tune him out, tired of church politics that pitted one group of men against another group of men over women's role in the church. I already knew Pastor Ledbetter's position. He held that women's duties consisted of covering their heads, their mouths, and their casserole dishes, and I'd done all three about as long as I wanted to. But when he tied all the woes of the church to women officers, I could've wrung Paul's neck, and Timothy's, too, for giving men like Pastor Ledbetter justification for their prejudices. And don't tell me, as he'd done before, that a woman's submission elevates and ennobles her. I knew all about submission, and all it had gotten me was the humiliation in khaki pants sitting next to me.

Opposition to the ordination of women is a bigger problem than Miss Julia can solve; indeed, than Ross or any of us can solve by ourselves. However, by introducing the issue into the story, Ross ties it (with a bit of a stretch, it must be admitted) to Miss Julia's predicament. The parallel enriches the story, as well as setting its social context.

It doesn't necessarily take much to create the effect of amplifying theme. Heather Graham's
Tall, Dark, and Deadly,
previously discussed vis-a-vis combining roles, is about the disappearance of Miami criminal defense attorney Marnie Newcastle. Her neighbor, Samantha (Sam) Miller, investigates, but the investigation is complicated by the arrival of a new neighbor, the lover who dumped Sam five years earlier, rock star Rowan Dillon.

At one point Rowan's Cuban housekeeper, Adelia, becomes the means for opening further the sense of eternal connection felt by those left behind by the missing, especially when the disappearances in question are unexplained:

She'd had a husband once, but they had locked him up years and years ago in a Cuban prison, and she didn't even know if he was alive anymore, if she was really a wife or a widow. . . .

"Your husband may very well be dead, Adelia."

"I know."

"But you should know, in case you wish to remarry—"

"No," Adelia said, turning the wedding band on her finger.

"Mario and I were deeply in love. He would not recognize me now—I am chubby,
si?
But once I was slim, so pretty, and he was so handsome. Proud—he had to say what he believed. So they took him away, but I will always love him. I will just keep praying. Am I silly? A silly old chubby woman?"

"No, Adelia, you're beautiful, and your thoughts are beautiful," Sam told her.

This theme—the power that the disappeared have over those left behind— explains why Sam feels compelled to find out what happened to her neighbor Marnie. This theme is further developed when Sam and Rowan's backstory finally is revealed (halfway through the novel, please note!) and with it the reason that Rowan closed the door on Sam five years earlier. Rowan was still married at the time he met Sam, but his wife had disappeared. He was questioned by the police, and then:

"All right. This is the truth, and I swear it, and I don't beg people to believe me, not matter how much I want them to. Dina was self-destructive, and I knew it. When she returned, she was in sorry shape. I had married her. I could never have lived with myself if I hadn't tried to help her."

"You might have said that to me then."

"At the time? Exactly what should I have said? 'Oh, excuse me, thank you, you've been a fabulous lover, but they've found my wife, I didn't do away with her after all, but she's a drug addict and I need to be with her'?"

She swung on him then. "Yes!"

Well, yes, that might have helped, don't you think? Anyway, even more powerful than the effect of a disappearance, Graham is saying, is the effect of a return. Unresolved businesses and unfulfilled commitments that otherwise might be let go are, in the wake of a return, impossible to forget. Breezy and commercial as
Tall, Dark, and Deadly
may be, Graham does not ignore the need to amplify her theme.

In
Empire Falls
by Richard Russo, discussed in previous chapters, protagonist Miles Roby, a man over-educated for his job as proprietor of the local diner, is harried by his nemesis, town sheriff Jimmy Minty. It would have been easy to make Jimmy simply a small-minded, small-town stereotype, but Russo is more expansive. In a late-night confrontation with Miles, Jimmy states his case:

"Thing is, Miles, people in this town like you. A lot of people. You got friends, even some important friends. I admit it. But here's something that might surprise you. People like me too. Something else? I got friends. Might surprise you to hear we even got some of the
same
friends. You're not the only one people

like, okay? And I'll tell you something else. What people around here like best about me? They like it that they're more like me than they are like you. They look at me and they see the town they grew up in. They see their first girlfriend. They see the first high school football game they ever went to. You know what they see when they look at you? That they ain't good enough."

For a moment there, we feel that Jimmy Minty has a point.
Empire Falls
has a lot to do with the effect of not fitting in; of feeling like an outsider in your own town. Being part of a place, and what that means, is a major theme in Russo's novel. When Jimmy Minty makes his case, he is touching upon that theme, albeit from a different perspective than Miles.

What are the themes of your current novel, and how are you developing them? Whether you are making your points by creating a backward antagonist, or by giving other characters parallel problems, or by introducing problems that are bigger than your protagonist, or by showing us what your character is aiming for (or at least will settle for), be sure that you have a means to bring out what you want to say. A novel that has nothing to say will have a tough time breaking out.

________EXERCISE

Alternate Endings

Step 1:
With respect to the story as a whole, what does your protagonist want?
Write that down.

Step 2: If your protagonist cannot get that, what would she take second? Write that down.