Character, Craft, and Complication I - Part I: The End of Weakness - Part II: Cowboy Complications and Structure - Part III: Show-Don't-Tell The Angry Man - Part IV: Alexandra Van Der Noot Backwards - Part V: CCC I Glossary The End of Weakness (and cowboys) In the character sections of this workshop we'll examine a variety of short stories from several viewpoints, but more importantly, from the standpoint of protagonist evolution, character relationships, and the rendering of "exotic" characters. We'll not only dissect the evolution and qualities of the major characters, but also review complication/structure and craft technique in the context of the story. Specific issues of theme development will be reserved for a later class. (Please note that various craft elements are noted IN ALL CAPS)
Story Synopsis "Cowboys Are My Weakness" written by Pam Houston is not a story that could win any prizes for prose style; however, this makes a good art-of-fiction point. Though simply told, it impresses on many levels. Thematically, it's a story of dream vs. cold reality--placed in the context of seeking love. The protagonist (first person narrator) has a crush on an imaginary cowboy, her ideal man, or imago. Naturally, she discovers that real human beings can never measure up to her fantasy. And it happens all the time. It's a very familiar theme, and one that must be told in such a way as not to offend the reader with its cliché. Regardless, once the narrator admits her fantasy, she informs us that after some trial and error, she had met an almost-cowboy named Homer. They live together out west and Homer watches deer for a living because he's a wildlife specialist. Homer, however, is a huge disappointment to the narrator. He's bascially an inconsiderate, deer-obsessed bastard. She continues on with him, adapting her life to fit his vision rather than her own. On an everyday basis, she shares what life she has left with the local ranch owner, David--who is really the right man for her. After a couple of incidents wherein Homer further reveals his callous nature, the narrator accepts a date from a local cowhand (a real cowboy) named Monte. She and Monte go out for a dance and things seem ok till even Monte disappoints her. Following this, the narrator decides to leave Homer and the ranch for good.
The story opens:
"I have a picture in my mind of a tiny ranch on the edge of a stand of pine trees with some horses in the yard. There's a woman standing in the doorway in cutoffs and a blue chambray work shirt and she's just kissed her tall, bearded, and soft-spoken husband goodbye. There's laundry hanging outside and the morning sun is filtering through the tree branches like spiderwebs. It's the morning after a full moon, and behind the house the deer have eaten everything that was left in the garden. Without delay, we know immediately what the life mission of the main character is: to meet the ideal man, or cowboy. It's the primary MAJOR COMPLICATION of this story, i.e., truth vs. fantasy. It effects nearly every day of the character's life. It needs RESOLUTION. Also, the narrator's voice and her inner turmoil is familiar to us, thus a degree of EMPATHY with the protagonist is established early on. After all, aren't we all, at one time or another, attempting to reconcile the pursuit of a dream with the reality we catch? As readers, we realize instinctively that the resolution of the protagonist's fantasy goal will also be the resolution of the story and the MAJOR COMPLICATION. Somehow, the protag must evolve to a realization of a Great Life Truth ... or maybe not? We want to find out. We read on, compelled by the beginning of this story to learn the answer. The major characters in "Cowboys Are My Weakness" as follows:
But this is the protag's story, so let's focus on that. Once the protag states the origin and nature of her goal in the first two paragraphs, EXPOSITION is delivered next--simple information dosed out to the reader to enable an understanding of the story situation, i.e., who/what/where, etc. All stories require some amount of exposition and it must be done sensibly. The reader must have an orientation, a fix, else they begin to mentally ask questions of themselves and this severely interrupts the fictional flow. Houston's character tells us she evolved to the west, from the eastern cities, to the small towns and finally onto the ranch. Then she met her first "cowboy," Homer. She FORESHADOWS the deterioration of her relationship with Homer right away by noting:
"... somewhere along the line I had to face the fact that even thought Homer looked like a cowboy, he was just a capitalist with a Texas accent who owned a horse." By foreshadow, I mean that Houston dropped a hint (in this case a big one) that something was going to take place. Think of foreshadow as a twinkle in the dark distance, the light originating from a big city or perhaps a raging fire you are approaching from miles away. You see the twinkle first so when the full force hits, it doesn't come as an unreasonable suprise.
The narrator continues to deliver several paragraphs of exposition on the Homer character: his occupation, sexual prowess (a few resulting complications), specifics on the super-bucks he is creating, and his eccentricities. At this point, we know quite a bit about Homer, but he's still two-dimensional. In other words, there's nothing said about Homer that really stirs us, no Homer anecdotes that spark us, and we've seen him take no action that either encourages our sympathy or revulsion. Unlike the narrator protagonist, zero EMPATHY is established. But for Homer, this makes sense. It serves the author's intent not to stir too much feeling for Homer. After all, this is the protagonist's story, and a favorable reader reaction to the Homer character doesn't serve the goal of resolving the story. The strong contrast between reality and fantasy must be maintained, at least in Homer's case. Several times, during the exposition, Homer's propensity for selfishness and thoughtlessness is foreshadowed so that when it begins in earnest, the reader is well prepared to be turned off, and thus more SYMPATHETIC towards the protagonist. The narrator notes:
"... his obsession with the deer made him even more like a stranger. He was gone every day from way before sunrise till long after dark ... Homer liked to eat his dinner in front of the TV ... we were making love less and less ..." The next major character introduced is David. Expositional information is delivered:
"He was a poet ... He wouldn't let the ranch hands use pesticides or chemicals ... undergrazed the ranch by about 50%, so the organic grain was belly-high to a horse almost everywhere. David had an idea about recreating on his forthy thousand acres the Great Plains that only the Indians and the first settlers had seen ... he was producing the fattest, healthiest, most organic Black Angus cattle in North America. He was sensitive, thoughtful, and kind. He was the kind of man I always knew I should fall in love with, but never did." A big difference between Homer and David. Don't we like him already? Furthermore, from the author's standpoint, don't we have to? The last line from the quote above makes an unmistakable and direct reference to the protagonist's TRAGIC FLAW: she appears incapable of being attracted to the type of man who is best for her. This ORIENTATION COMMENT firmly reinforces the protagonist's dilemma that has been apparent from the start. Therefore, the more we like the David character, and the more dysfunctional we find Homer, the more the protagonist's TRAGIC FLAW is brought into high relief as the story progresses, and the more the reader needs RESOLUTION.
A new story block begins on page five (double-spaced down from the one before). Following the statment of the tragic flaw, Houston builds additional SYMPATHY for the protagonist in a variety of ways. Beginning on page five, the narrator asks Homer what he wants to do for Thanksgiving and he says he wants to stay on the ranch and "watch the does in heat." As readers, we know and understand the protagonist's dream. We've heard her discuss her disappointment and Homer's distant personality. Therefore, by page five, at such time the bastard Homer replies that he wants to blow off any holiday cheer and instead watch animals in heat, we automatically feel sympathetic towards the protagonist. Next, the narrator relates an anecdote about her family and holidays past, and how they were a disappointment to her.
"Once we spent Christmas night parked uner a fluorescent streetlight, sleeping in the car." More sympathy, and having understood her need for observed, happy holidays, more sympathy is forthcoming:
"Homer thinks my enthusiasm about holidays is childish and self-serving. To prove it to me, last Christmas morning he set the alarm for six-thirty and went back to his house to stain a door ..." What else? At this point, we're really beginning to dislike Homer and hoping the protagonist finds happiness. This sympathy-building increases the need for resolution. Here's a sensitive, deserving woman living her life with a two-timing man (does in place of human females). How could we not want her to get wise and get out?
The next major narrative block on page six opens with a scene depicting her relationship with Dave:
"David and I drank tea together, and every day took walks up into the canyon behind ranch headquarters ..." Their relationship makes it obvious that they get along. The tragic flaw drones in the background. During the scene, the two of them watch Homer at a far distance, hiding in the weeds while watching the does in heat. The two men are contrasted in the presence of the narrator. One is distant, the other is close. One is sensitive, the other callous and cold (as revealed by David's anecdote concerning a woman who loved Homer). Yet, the protagonist does not yield. She only remarks to Dave:
"Homer's always wearing camouflage ... Even when he's not." And David replies:
"We're such good people ... Why aren't we happy?" The author, Pam Houston, makes two big points with these simple statements. With regards to the Homer character, the protagonist uses "wearing camouflage" as a METAPHOR to explain Homer's behavior, i.e, he's always hiding his true feelings or self, as if afraid. The David character reinforces the tragic flaw: the protagonist's inability to choose a man who is good for her. He is really asking the reader this question. He's reminding us of the problem's source.
The narrator makes love to Homer, after which Homer becomes concerned he might have impregnated the narrator. Homer remarks:
"Well ... In that case we better get back to Colorado before they change the abortion laws." To which the narrator responds (talking to us):
"Sometimes the most significant moments of your life reveal themselves to you even as they are happening, and I knew in that moment that I would never love Homer the same way again." She next compares Homer's reaction to her imago cowboy man and what he would've done:
"It all went back to the girl in the log cabin, and how the soft-spoken man would react if she thought she was going to have a baby ... He might dance with the sheepdog ... he might sing the theme song from Father Knows Best, he might go out and do a swan dive into the snow." And finally:
"And although there's a lot of doubt in my mind about whether or not an ending as simple and happy as I want is possible anymore in the world, it was clear to me that afternoon that it wasn't possible with Homer." Now, we realize that Homer is toast, their relationship bascially resolved. But what about her cowboy imago fantasy?
In the next major narrative block of the story, Houston introduces her narrator to Monte, a local cowhand, who asks her out on a date. The narrator doesn't accept, not at first. Something Homer says makes her realize that her life, in several ways, has become alien to who she really is. Following this realization, a major EPIPHANY occurs:
"I wanted to blame Homer, but I realized then it was more my fault than his. Because even though I'd never let the woman in the chambray work shirt out of my mind I'd let her, in the last few years, become someone different, and she wasn't living, anymore, in my painting. The painting she was living in belonged to somebody else." In other words, the narrator accepts responsibility and realizes her role in allowing her life to be defined by someone else. The narrator accepts Monte's proposal to go out on a date. They attend a local dance, the Stockgrower's Ball, and the narrator enjoys herself tremendously:
"I was farther west than I'd ever imagined, and in the strange, nearly flawless synchronization on the dance floor I knew I could be a Montana ranch woman, and I knew I could make Monte my man. It had taken me ten years, and an incredible sequence of accidents, but that night I thought I'd finaly gotten where I'd set out to go." However, no sooner does she have this thought than things get awkward. Their conversation bogs down and at the end of the evening, Monte says to her:
"I'd love to give you a great big kiss, but I've got a mouthful of chew." Whoaaa! This one line ends the story block. The sheer impact of UNDERSTATMENT here can't be overstated. That final remark by ole Monte contrasts so strongly to what went before. We can feel the narrator's heart sink. Another disappointment! The author need say no more.
The protagonist decides to call it quits. She says her last goodbyes to Homer and Dave. In a final scene, Monte rides up to her and they talk. She tells him she'll be back one day and he says goodbye. She watches him ride off into the sunset, and as he leaves, recalls her cowboy imago painting once more:
"And I wondered then why I had always imagined my cowboy's truck as it was leaving. I wondered why I hadn't turned the truck around and painted my cowboy coming home." Perhaps the narrator is revealing more about her self-defeating nature? Was she doomed to forever fall for men who would leave her? Next, she recalls a story she tells people about herself, a false story about her riding a mechanical bull in a bar, and how she stays on despite all odds while at the same time winning her boyfriend who was betting loads of money on her. She admits she invents herself with this lie, and that the lie partially defines who she is. Finally though, as she drives out of the area, she listens to country music on the radio and the dysfunctional message of it appears to convince her that cowboys were truly not for her. She doesn't wish to be another cowboy victim. Her final EPIPHANY appears to at least partially resolve her tragic flaw, i.e, cure her of cowboys:
"I started to think about coming back to the ranch to visit Monte, about another night dancing, about another night wanting the impossible love of a country song, and I thought: This is not my happy ending. This is not my story." Can we be sure? Does she resolve and make it clear that cowboys are no longer her weakness? After all, she did leave Dave in the dust, the one man who could have made her truly happy (perhaps Houston chose to do this, believing a new relationship with Dave would've have been too predictable). Regardless, the overall impression is one of cure. Despite imagining an ideal cowboy good-time scenario, she rejects and says, "This is not my happy ending." We infer the TRAGIC FLAW is gone with the tumbling tumbleweeds. RESOLUTION takes place. The reader breathes a sigh of relief.
Let's sum up the major elements in the narrator protagonist's evolution through the story.
We're dealing with a human being who accepts responsibility and learns from her mistakes. More importantly, we learn with her. Also, the author makes us like this person. We feel for her, for any number of reasons, and because of that, we want her to triumph. Is this important? Do I need to answer?
Houston, by creating an introspective character in first person, adds an element to the story that works well, especially since the reader is on the side of the character, sympathetic towards the character. Arguably, first person creates an identification with a character not possible in other points of view. The debate rages on. However, let's review some of her comments (noted above also) to recap. "Sometimes the most significant moments of your life reveal themselves to you even as they are happening, and I knew in that moment that I would never love Homer the same way again." Yes, they make a difference not only to the story and its quality, but to us. And if you as a writer want/need to do something similar, keep these points in mind:
What have we learned from this character that we can apply to our own fiction, at least now and then? Let's look at a few points regarding this particular protagonist.
Did I miss anything? More "weakness" to come. Let's discuss that MAJOR COMPLICATION now. |