What I Saw

I had a spectacular and unexpected ‘wildlife’ jog last week that began with the sighting of our resident Harris’s hawks (I had only been seeing one, so I was pretty certain that the mate had been killed). I was quite happy to find the pair together, and even more excited yesterday, when I discovered that there are three in the family!

This is obviously not the big buck I saw when jogging. But this beautiful doe appeared last week when I was completing novel research with a local rancher. Click to enlarge.

I continued my jog, smiling as I thought about the Harris’s, unaware that I had just jogged right beneath a Cooper’s hawk. When I made the abrupt turn to retrace my steps along the railroad tracks, I heard the swift beating of wings in a stout palo verde tree, no more than two feet above my head.

As I watched the Cooper’s hawk fly into a small valley, something else caught my eye: a big buck. Probably the largest I’ve seen in Arizona (and I wouldn’t likely have seen him if not for the Cooper’s hawk). I was patient. I stopped and waited for him to break the mannequin-like stance he’d assumed when he heard my feet crunching along the gravel.

I couldn’t help but think that hunting season is approaching. And that this buck’s life might, realistically, soon come to an end. I also realized, given his size and rack, that he had evaded hunters for years. That resilience alone, I think, should earn him a “get out of jail free” card this hunting season. Though I’m not sure it will happen, I hope he thrives for many more years, adding even more points to his rack, badges of courage.

For Writers: (Spoiler alert if you haven’t read The Story of Edgar Sawtelle and The Elegance of the Hedgehog) I think readers often feel the same remorse when they’ve read a story in which the main character dies. They’ve connected with the character, shared her hopes and fears, taken the journey with her – only to learn of her death in the final pages. As readers, we feel sadness at the often unexpected change of events. Sometimes we feel cheated. And sometimes, the death plot element actually makes sense to us.

All the writing advice says debut novelists should never kill off a main character – that only well-established authors have that privilege. But it’s been done, with great effect, by debut novelists. Consider David Wroblewski’s The Story of Edgar Sawtelle or Muriel Barbery’s The Elegance of the Hedgehog. I admit it: I felt cheated at the conclusion of both stories… this is, until I really analyzed each. In both instances, I realized why the author chose that course of action. And, in the end, I was okay with both endings.

What’s your take? Is it okay to kill off your main character? Does it matter if you’re a debut novelist or a pro? How do you feel as a reader when the main character dies?

During mid-June, I had the privilege of watching four baby Chihuahua ravens fledge from a nest that balanced a foot beneath active rails set atop a 20-foot train trestle.

In June, four baby ravens took first flight from the train trestle that borders our property. One is pictured above, shortly after learning to fly. Click to enlarge.

It was a treat to watch the baby ravens test their new, unsteady wings and to see their progress as the weeks passed. During my morning exercise, I’d see them with beaks bent at obtuse angles, squawking at mom and dad for food.

All very endearing … until I saw the parents fly by with breakfast in their talons. One, a rat. The other, tiny floppy legs and a white cotton-puff tail. A baby bunny.

At times like these, I have to remind myself, “This is the circle of life. For one to survive in the wild, another must die.” But, admittedly, it doesn’t make it any easier.

For Writers: Sometimes we see things that are difficult to understand and just as often, hard to witness. These ‘difficult’ events offer valuable life lessons, despite their unpleasantness. Novels should be no different, offering insight and understanding about those tough topics.

As author Valerie Laken (Dream House) says in The Writer Magazine, “It is a writer’s job to write what is difficult to write, to say the things others are afraid to say. We should take on projects that frighten others.”

Author Teri Coyne (The Last Bridge) agrees. “One of the most frustrating aspects of writing is the way many agents (and editors) are not open to books that deal with difficult subject matter,” she says. “While I am lucky to have an agent that appreciated my story, the process of trying to sell the book was filled with rejections and comments like, ‘I don’t represent books about abuse.’”

Coyne, who feels there is a need for REAL stories about women’s lives, suggests that we, as writers, embrace the rejection and move on. “It’s painful, but in the end you really don’t want anyone to be involved with your story who does not get it or love it. There is too much at stake for you as the writer, both professionally and emotionally.”

Compelling voice and strong story, she says, help make the “difficult” subject matter go down a bit easier. And, given that my novel topics fall into the ‘difficult’ category, I’m encouraged by Coyne’s suggestions. I have some tough stories to tell. Stories that must be told. So, despite the ‘difficult’ label, I’m going to tell them.