Brave New Worlds

In real life, it can take a lifetime to learn a lesson.  We get hit upside the head over and over with the same problems, and we find ourselves faced with our old, familiar hang-ups time and time again, yet it can be years before we even figure out that we’ve got an issue. And there are still an awful lot of lessons that go unrecognized and unlearned when one’s demise rolls around.  That’s why writing fiction is so much fun.  Fiction is different. 

As a writer, I have the chance—no, the obligation—to pick and focus on something that my character needs to learn. Why the obligation?  Because, in a meaningful story, a character must change in some way from the beginning to the end.  How the change happens is part of the magic of imagination.  But the change must come. That’s what makes a story interesting and compelling. It’s what gives a story life.

So, when I began writing Sepia in November, I knew that Cara needed to learn something about being the sister of a disabled older brother.  And I knew that she needed to learn something about letting go.  How did I know this?  I knew it because I had just lost my brother to respiratory failure, and my world had been torn apart.

I set out to help Cara learn how to separate from her brother.  But along the way, I learned some things about myself.  I explored the roots of my fierce protectiveness and need to advocate for my brother (not part of Cara’s story), and my feelings of anguish over facing some of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made as Bobby reached the end of his life.

I realized that my perspective as Bobby’s sister was significantly different from anyone else’s, even my father’s.  I knew Bobby as an equal.  We grew up together.  We hugged each other in fear or for comfort.  We laughed together.  We knew to clear out of the house or to lay low when thunderclouds appeared in our parents’ eyes.  We knew how to keep our little sister happy.  We were a team, and we were there for each other in ways that our parents could not be.  Our relationship was different from that of parent and child.  We were companions.  We were siblings.

And I learned that my identity was very much wrapped up in being Bobby’s sister.  I hadn’t thought of it that way before.  I knew that I was who I was because of my brother and sister, among other things.  But I did not realize the extent of my identification with Bobby. Losing Bobby changed the landscape of my heart.

And so I followed a parallel journey to Cara’s as she navigated the new world of Sepia.  I have been crossing through a new land, as well.  And, though our stories end differently, they have this in common:  we still have a long way to go.  But I think, like Cara, that I am learning my way. And we are both ready now to face the changes as they come.