Lesson
64
How
a creative spark leads to a story
We declined life support and
wanted his pain to end. Teeth out, struggling for every breath, and mouth
contorted, he looked like a grey version of Munch’s Scream. My attempt to bump him off (with lies to get excess
morphine) failed, and he came back to life long enough to grab my collar and
remind me of what he wanted. I laughed nervously and said, “I’ll do what I can,
Dad.”
I told that story after his funeral with the same confliction.
I told that story after his funeral with the same confliction.
That memory and the nervous laugh
visited my head again and again as I read the 2011 Leacock Medal book, Practical Jean by Trevor Cole. The book
tells the story of Jean Horemarsh, a woman who cared for her mother on the way
to a nasty death. Jean vows to spare her friends the same fate and sets out to
kill them in a prophylactic way while they’re still relatively young and
healthy.
Sometimes, it seems that everyone, save
a few newly born babies, has a story, like me, of a loved one who suffered too
long and has likely thought about the issues raised by Practical Jean. But Trevor Cole takes those thoughts just one step
further into a twisted, but also kind of honest realm that does what all good
story ideas do. It touches on a universal in an unusual, creative way.
When you’re struck by the creative
spark, you feel an energy that flows from other ideas--or at least that’s what
I’ve read. Reflecting on the idea of Practical
Jean and the book that sparkled out of it, I have a guess as to why this
happens.
An unusual thought, contrary to a
usual one, raises questions. Who would think that way? Why would they do that?
How would they pull it off? And what will happen as a consequence? The
questions tickle your mind.
So, after seizing on this concept of
proactive euthanasia, you would naturally try to think of a sensitive
protagonist who has attended a bad death and doesn’t want to endure it again.
Jean, a ceramic artist with a bland but comfortable husband and home in
small-town Canada, fits the requirements. Then, you would need a backstory that
makes euthanasia an acceptable approach to such problems, and this produces
Jean’s childhood at the ringside of her mother’s veterinary business and
multiple puppy terminations.
Jean, the sister of two police
officers and the daughter of another, has lived all her life labelled as the
one incapable of doing the “practical” thing when required. Then, the death of
her mother pushes her to take action. As a caring person, she sees the plan to
end the lives of her closest friends as the means of saving them from the
“ruthless” and “pulverizing” experience of age and the bleakness of a “slow and
agonizing” death.
Cole sticks with this portrait by
having Jean give each of her victims/friends one last bit of happiness and
beauty. One time, this beauty comes as sex in a car with a youth; another time,
it’s sex with Jean herself. She hacks with a shovel, strangles with wire, and
poisons with drugs.
I can easily imagine how Cole
generated each element, from the dead puppies to the murder mystery-style
climax, building on his initial idea. But what makes Cole’s words better than a
pile of clay is his execution, if you can excuse that word here. A one-time
journalist with decades of experience in magazines and daily newspapers as well
as fiction, Cole enjoyed recognition as a talented and literate writer before
receiving the Leacock Medal.
Practical Jean impressed me because it
sought to get into the heads of middle-aged women. As a mouth-breathing male, I
may be a poor judge of how well Cole does this but I can say for certain that
he twists the mind, draws detailed characters, and generates thoughtful
dialogue that doesn’t go on too long. For this reason, I was surprised by some
not-so-great comments in early reviews of Practical
Jean. Most of the negative stuff struck me as conflicted.
It made me think again of my
conflicted feelings about my dad, his suffering, and his sense of humour, and
it gave me a twisted but creative idea on how I could spare humorists like
Trevor from the “vicious, ruthless . . . grinding . . . pulverizing ugliness”
of confused reviews in the future. I’ll work on it after this project is over.
Writing Exercise
Write a short story
about a serial killer who bumps off humour writers before they can experience
bad reviews.