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I was sitting here being my creative self - working on a character that just occurred to me yesterday to interact with another of my characters (Helene) in the Snow Valley Vermont story. I could see her, and I felt instantly that I knew her, but I couldn't "name" her. Therefore, I asked her - which follows Stanislavsky's "method acting" technique for creating characters with explorable depth (thank you Cawdor). Flesh and bones as it were. So, I interviewed her.
At 26 years old she was 5'1" tall, average build and healthy. She had dark brown hair with hints of copper in it if she was in the sunlight. Her dark eyes glittered most all the time. Folks would speculate on whether she was a "teary eyed doe" or up to mischief. She was clever, no doubt about it.
Her hair had been so long that it passed her tailbone, but one day, and not even she knew the reason (she says) she cut it. She took the big shears they used on the porch for "cuttin through bone" (that is just scary!) and cut it to just below the middle of her back. To her it looked short. "kicky" she called it. She would wind the ends around strips of rag and tie it in there overnight so she'd have "kicky" curls the next morning. "kicky" was her "word". She had this precarious personality balance of spicy and socially correct, and she was indeed very cunning.
During that time, which was just after the turn of the century, people were inclined to be shorter for a while. So if a young woman met up with a guy that was tall and didn't look like he'd never seen any cornbread and buttermilk in his life - welllll that was definitely "kicky!”
She did meet a fella who was just exactly like that, six feet tall or better, she thought, and healthy. He was muscular, she could tell through his shirt, and he was wearing short sleeves so she could see his arms right there, he had red hair and blue eyes. He had this little divot between his nose and top lip that made a v-dip in the center of his top lip. When he smiled, that v-dip would be perfectly lined up with the little space between his front teeth. She couldn't hardly breathe for the fact of her heart beatin just like a bird's. Sure was! Then he smiled at her and she nearly fainted.
He reached out to steady her and it was like draggin your feet across the rug and touching a hairpin. That little zzzzzzzt you get. That's what it was like. She loved him right than and she figured he knew it because he just kept smiling at her and didn't let go for nearly 60 years.
She wanted to be a Science Teacher. She wasn't sure what one was, but she figured to teach children about life cycles, and growing good food in good soil and about good doctor’ in. She needed schoolin for that. Where she lived, the women didn't think about going to school. Why you didn't need schoolin to know how to bake up bread, cook up a roast and tend your babies. Your man did all the laboring and ciphering, if ciphering need be. While she knew that, and wanted that, she also wanted to go to school.
She married the tall healthy red headed fella and started having babies soon thereafter. There was a story after she died about her daughter dying of crib death. That wasn't quite true. She had married a man two years before that had a baby daughter from his first marriage. The story was that after the baby was born his wife just left her all alone in the cradle with him working out in the field and took off. He waited on her for about a year or so and then figured she wasn't coming back. He asked her to marry him then. She figured, since she didn't really know him at all, that he was probably just looking for a Mama for the baby. The baby barely cried at all, and seemed content to entertain herself with blocks and kitchen utensils.
One night she woke up from a troubling dream, which she always referred to as "one of them dreams". She got up and walked around the cabin looking up and down at everything. She didn't see anything out of place so she walked back towards the bed - looked down at the child's bed, which sat a few feet from her own - and the breath in progress caught in her throat! The child was as blue as the sky. "Oh lands...,” she repeated over and over as tears streamed down her face.
She turned towards her own bed softly calling her husband's name. He wasn't there!
She ran around in a small circle, her nightdress whooshing around her ankles, for what seemed like a long time. She broke the circle finally and ran outside to the barn, now shouting his name as loud as she could. She burst threw the small side door and nearly fell forward with her abrupt stop. There he was hanging from a rope tied to the rafter.
She didn't remember it real clear, but they said she ran the six miles to her Daddy's house and collapsed in the kitchen floor after telling the tale in a gush. It was three days before her Mama quit spiking her tea and her head cleared enough to where she could understand what her Daddy was saying to her. He said that her husband had killed that baby because she belonged to that Proctor boy over next county, sure enough, and he killed his wife for doing it. He reckoned that he killed himself because he just couldn't live with what he done. The coroner ruled the baby as crib death, and her husband a suicide. She felt like she had lost her mind.
When she met the tall healthy red headed guy, she felt like she got it back. He had two boys when they got started, and together they had eight boys and girls, making the number a nice round ten.
She told me this and a lot more about herself, and told me that if I am going to use her as a character, she wants to be a Science Teacher. I said "Deal!"
Isn't it amazing when we get to that place in our lives where we realize that the frustration we sometimes feel when attempting to communicate positively with our children - unsuccessfully - is the exact same frustration our parents experienced when attempting to communicate with us - along with juggling job, home, family, relationship, and self needs.
Wow! That is the moment that we stop blaming our parents for our unhappiness/failure/whatever, and begin being better role models for our own children.
When we are forced to realize "I'm only human!" we realize with astounding clarity that our parents were too.
The character's name is Hattie, and as it turns out, I do know her. She is my Grandmother.
At 26 years old she was 5'1" tall, average build and healthy. She had dark brown hair with hints of copper in it if she was in the sunlight. Her dark eyes glittered most all the time. Folks would speculate on whether she was a "teary eyed doe" or up to mischief. She was clever, no doubt about it.
Her hair had been so long that it passed her tailbone, but one day, and not even she knew the reason (she says) she cut it. She took the big shears they used on the porch for "cuttin through bone" (that is just scary!) and cut it to just below the middle of her back. To her it looked short. "kicky" she called it. She would wind the ends around strips of rag and tie it in there overnight so she'd have "kicky" curls the next morning. "kicky" was her "word". She had this precarious personality balance of spicy and socially correct, and she was indeed very cunning.
During that time, which was just after the turn of the century, people were inclined to be shorter for a while. So if a young woman met up with a guy that was tall and didn't look like he'd never seen any cornbread and buttermilk in his life - welllll that was definitely "kicky!”
She did meet a fella who was just exactly like that, six feet tall or better, she thought, and healthy. He was muscular, she could tell through his shirt, and he was wearing short sleeves so she could see his arms right there, he had red hair and blue eyes. He had this little divot between his nose and top lip that made a v-dip in the center of his top lip. When he smiled, that v-dip would be perfectly lined up with the little space between his front teeth. She couldn't hardly breathe for the fact of her heart beatin just like a bird's. Sure was! Then he smiled at her and she nearly fainted.
He reached out to steady her and it was like draggin your feet across the rug and touching a hairpin. That little zzzzzzzt you get. That's what it was like. She loved him right than and she figured he knew it because he just kept smiling at her and didn't let go for nearly 60 years.
She wanted to be a Science Teacher. She wasn't sure what one was, but she figured to teach children about life cycles, and growing good food in good soil and about good doctor’ in. She needed schoolin for that. Where she lived, the women didn't think about going to school. Why you didn't need schoolin to know how to bake up bread, cook up a roast and tend your babies. Your man did all the laboring and ciphering, if ciphering need be. While she knew that, and wanted that, she also wanted to go to school.
She married the tall healthy red headed fella and started having babies soon thereafter. There was a story after she died about her daughter dying of crib death. That wasn't quite true. She had married a man two years before that had a baby daughter from his first marriage. The story was that after the baby was born his wife just left her all alone in the cradle with him working out in the field and took off. He waited on her for about a year or so and then figured she wasn't coming back. He asked her to marry him then. She figured, since she didn't really know him at all, that he was probably just looking for a Mama for the baby. The baby barely cried at all, and seemed content to entertain herself with blocks and kitchen utensils.
One night she woke up from a troubling dream, which she always referred to as "one of them dreams". She got up and walked around the cabin looking up and down at everything. She didn't see anything out of place so she walked back towards the bed - looked down at the child's bed, which sat a few feet from her own - and the breath in progress caught in her throat! The child was as blue as the sky. "Oh lands...,” she repeated over and over as tears streamed down her face.
She turned towards her own bed softly calling her husband's name. He wasn't there!
She ran around in a small circle, her nightdress whooshing around her ankles, for what seemed like a long time. She broke the circle finally and ran outside to the barn, now shouting his name as loud as she could. She burst threw the small side door and nearly fell forward with her abrupt stop. There he was hanging from a rope tied to the rafter.
She didn't remember it real clear, but they said she ran the six miles to her Daddy's house and collapsed in the kitchen floor after telling the tale in a gush. It was three days before her Mama quit spiking her tea and her head cleared enough to where she could understand what her Daddy was saying to her. He said that her husband had killed that baby because she belonged to that Proctor boy over next county, sure enough, and he killed his wife for doing it. He reckoned that he killed himself because he just couldn't live with what he done. The coroner ruled the baby as crib death, and her husband a suicide. She felt like she had lost her mind.
When she met the tall healthy red headed guy, she felt like she got it back. He had two boys when they got started, and together they had eight boys and girls, making the number a nice round ten.
She told me this and a lot more about herself, and told me that if I am going to use her as a character, she wants to be a Science Teacher. I said "Deal!"
Isn't it amazing when we get to that place in our lives where we realize that the frustration we sometimes feel when attempting to communicate positively with our children - unsuccessfully - is the exact same frustration our parents experienced when attempting to communicate with us - along with juggling job, home, family, relationship, and self needs.
Wow! That is the moment that we stop blaming our parents for our unhappiness/failure/whatever, and begin being better role models for our own children.
When we are forced to realize "I'm only human!" we realize with astounding clarity that our parents were too.
The character's name is Hattie, and as it turns out, I do know her. She is my Grandmother.
creative