Our resident hawks continue to make life interesting.
Today, one entered the building. Our a/c isn’t working, so someone propped the door open, and the fledgling decided to check it out.
As I mentioned last week, his learning to fly has given us some deep feelings of love and concern. Essentially, we have adopted him and will cry when he finally flies free of the nest, but in the meantime, he is our anthropomorphic mascot.
So when he dived and smacked into the upper windows that we can’t open, we were gravely concerned that he’d hurt himself. Again.
And what does he do in response? Hops and flits to the top of the ductwork and up to a higher level above a shelving unit. It makes sense for him to seek higher ground, but there are no open windows here. We had a raptor rescue organization on the way, but we still worried that he’d cause himself harm. He’d literally trapped himself into the corner.
A Cornered Beast
Sometimes, those of us who are Discovery Writers write ourselves into a corner with our WIP (work-in-progress). We’re writing along, feeling happy with the progress, until we realize our characters have no (perceived) way out of the corner we created.
Like our fledgling, we’re hopping and flitting about, trying to find a way out.
If you’ve read the Harry Potter series, you know this happens in the final book where Harry, Hermione, and occasionally Ron are wandering in the wilderness for several (too many) chapters trying to find a way out of their dilemma. While JK Rowling can get away with it, most of us cannot afford to wander with our characters flitting about.
First, it’s okay for characters to flounder. To fail, even. The rising action of Act II is where they meet tests, allies, and enemies. They’re gaining the skills and knowledge they need to succeed at the big event. Some call it the try-fail cycle, because the characters try something and fail, and then try something to succeed.
Consider Luke in the OG Star Wars. While rescuing Leia, he “led” everyone out of enemy fire and directly into a trash compactor with a fearsome beast. As a rescue, this one wasn’t working out. He tried something, and he failed. And then the trash compactor began to squish them. He was rescued by a frantic C-3PO not by his own skills. Lesson learned.
Second, trapped characters are the kind of dilemma you want, because it allows the characters (and the writer by extension) to use their creativity. I don’t know if George Lucas knew how they were getting out of the trash compactor when he started, but the important thing was that he figured it out (no matter how long it may have taken).
Third, this is a great time to tap into the characters’ inner emotions. How do we feel when we’re trapped? No matter how amazing the character, they will feel some things about being cornered. Why not use this as a chance to bring out the feels?
According to Donald Maass’ Emotional Craft of Fiction, there are 3 ways that the reader feels emotions for/with the character:
The Inner mode: “The first is to report what characters are feeling so effectively that the readers feel something too” (Maass 6). As writers, we essentially tell the reader what the character is feeling so they react as if the character’s feelings “are their own” (Maass 6). I’m not a big fan of telling, as it takes skill to tell about an emotion in a way that garners an emotional reaction in the reader, so I recommend:
The Outer mode: “The second is to provoke in readers what characters may be feeling by implying their inner state through external action” (Maass 6). This is showing the emotions; transferring the emotions to the reader through those actions as if they are experiencing it. Avoid using emotional descriptions like ‘she cried’ or ‘he was nervous.’ It is the character's actions that evokes reader emotions.
Other mode: “The third method is to cause readers to feel something that a story’s characters do not themselves feel” (Maass 7). This is where the reader’s reactions come from within (not being shown or told to/from the character). For instance, the empathy I feel toward our fledgling is not from the experience or the telling of it, but from within myself.
All three can evoke an emotional response in the reader, so use this trapped moment to up the emotional stakes for the characters and the reader.
It all works out in the end
I highly encourage brainstorming if you’re in this painted corner as you look within for as many potential ways out as you can. If you can incorporate walking or physical activity for yourself while you’re brainstorming, it may shake some ideas loose. Also, consider a group brainstorming session. Often, someone outside the situation can see more clearly than ourselves.
I once had a student “stuck” and after reading the passage I asked why the character had to choose one thing or the other. They realized there was no story reason why. They just got that idea stuck in their head.
Questions to ask yourself if you wrote yourself into a corner:
Is there an ally or potential ally nearby? Is there a mentor who can guide the way? BTW, this isn’t just for fantasy or action writers. Even romance or literary characters need allies and mentors, particularly when they’ve really messed things up.
Does the enemy (plot device or character) have an enemy who can attack from behind? Meaning the enemy of your enemy is your friend. If our young fledgling had stumbled upon a predator, I’m certain he would have found a way to fly. If not, we, the humans in the building, would have built a human shield to protect our young fledgling.
What’s the wildest thing that could happen next? While this did not happen, in the hawk scenario, the wildest thing would have been for him to get into the elevator.
What’s the most unexpected thing? The most unexpected thing would have been for mom or dad hawk to follow the fledgling into the building. Super glad that didn’t happen.
A fledging earns its wings
As for our local fledgling, he flitted (like falling, with style) to the main level, walked to the door and peeked out, like “oh, here’s the exit.” It did all work out in the end. In fact, we saw him on the rooftop of a much higher building not too long after, so it appears that his try-fail cycle is complete. He learned how to soar.
Cindy Skaggs is a writer, book coach, public speaker, and military veteran who holds an MFA from Pacific Lutheran University and an MA in Creative Writing from Regis University. She is an advocate for military and veteran issues, mom to two humans, and an avid traveler. In 2022, she moved to Ireland to study Irish Literature. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
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