Imagine yourself a highly scrupulous person, who discovers that the truth lies in the opposite of what you’ve always believed. Well, how do you feel?
I’m writing a story about such a person, a comedian, who tries to kill himself. It’s not depressing at all, I promise you. It’s not even illogical – in fact it might be the most logical thing he’s ever done. It’s an act of love.
Here’s a person trying so hard to prove his love for his soul mate that he unwittingly discovers who he really is. Of course, this might describe the character development of the hero in a great many stories. When protagonists dig deep to get what they want, they often find themselves mining the dark side of their personalities. It’s a frightening journey, to say the least.
Eventually, my hero comes to his senses and gives up on the idea of corporeal martyrdom. But only because his point of view continues to expand. He has been so misguided throughout his life, that, at the end, he barely recognizes himself. I could have allowed him to keep digging through two more novels, if I hadn’t decided to put him out of his ecstasy in the final pages. (The story doesn’t end there, though.)
Now here’s something to consider – the theme of ‘truth being the opposite of what we believe’ emerged from my writing the story. I don’t even know if it’s true. I doubt that many good writers set out to make a philosophical point. They set out to tell a good story. And in my story, the protagonist realizes that in the passionate ignorance of his youth he developed principles to protect himself from pain. By realizing this later in life, he is able to right the ship, so to speak.
Another of his epiphanies is, ‘having a soul mate means finally having someone to die for’ (a la “Romeo and Juliet”).
I think that the human journey is remarkable for the possibilities that exist for us to discover who we really are. Fictional heroes are always showing us how it’s done. You can believe them or not.
Happy reading!
Tags: good character
At the age of 10 I discovered that my father was not my birthfather. It was bad timing on the part of my mother. She was leaving my father for another man, and she insisted that I come along. I wanted to stay with my dad because we had a great relationship and I loved him. So my mother told me that he wasn’t my “real” dad. Her revelation did not have the desired effect; in fact it had an effect opposite that which she had intended. I loved my father even more. The truth I had always believed was a mundane one. My new truth, not necessarily “opposite” of what I had always believed, but certainly “different” from what I had always believed, produced some initial angst, but eventually opened new doors. My father had always known that I was not his birthchild. He knew my birthfather. Yet he loved me and cared for me and taught me how to be a genuine and loving person, and we had a wonderful relationship until he died. I never stopped thinking of him as my father because he was a great father. Knowing all of this changed my perspective about parent-child relationships and opened the door for me to adopt children of my own later on.
Having said that, I am intrigued by the idea of someone finding that the truth is opposite that which he has always thought to be the truth. There is a good deal of that in Nancy Farmer’s book, The House of the Scorpion and Bernard Becket’s book, Genesis, both of which are fine YA novels. When I was a teenager I always questioned my beliefs as well as the beliefs of others. Perhaps I’ve grown a bit complacent. Maybe it’s time to shake things up a bit!