This would have been the second chapter of the 2010 kinda-sorta re-write of the project that never got off the ground. Note the rather intentional parallel structure to the first chapter. This, like yesterday's entry, is an unedited copy of something I wrote three-ish years ago.
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The last thing Eleanor Jane McIntire's father had said to her was, "When you get tired of this rebellion, you come on back home. We'll be waiting." He'd then tossed the last box in to the back of her rented truck and slammed the door shut.
Eleanor, or Ellie, as everyone called her, was a twenty-five-year old college graduate with dreams of a successful career in the big city and a past she was desperate to escape. She'd lived in a world dominated by men and wanted to know what it meant to be a woman for herself.
Her father wanted to be the image of the stern Southern gentleman. That's what the McIntires had been for as long as he knew, after all. He hadn't bothered to trace his lineage back any farther than a Colonel who served under Joe Johnston in the final days of the War of Northern Aggression. It was just as well, as the hard drinking Irish Catholic immgrants who had scraped together the money necessary to buy passage to the New World in the early 1800s wouldn't exactly have met his high standards. Either way, he expected his boys to grow up to be successful gentlemen as well and live up to the family name. He'd expected his daughter to grow up to be a beautiful debutant, even if they weren't part of the class that had such things, and settle down early to the life of the content homemaker. It was expected, it was right, at least in his world.
Her mother, meanwhile, had other plans. After giving birth to four boys and hoping for a girl the entire time, she'd named her only daughter after Eleanor Roosevelt. It was a little act of defiance. She couldn't have gotten away with naming the girl after Susan B. Anthony, but no one seemed to think twice about a First Lady. Even if she was a powerful, determined woman, she had gotten where she was by being a wife. Ellie's middle name, meanwhile, came from Jane Addams, the social work pioneer who had changed the landscape of Chicago forever. It was a good name, a strong name, one Ellie wore with pride.
Her father called her "Princess," a name Ellie pretended to enjoy but secretly simply endured. She had no urge to be a princess or carry the burden the name held. She didn't want to be daddy's little girl or simply Mrs. So-and-so. But as bad as Princess was, it beat by a country mile the name she wore through most of high school, the name that cause her to burn with shame every time she heard it. Easy Ellie, the boys at school called her.
Even after her older brothers beat Tim Johnson so hard he ended up in the hospital the name stuck. It was a whisper, but it was still there. On one level, though, it had been a blessing. Her father had let her leave Atlanta to go away to college in Florida in the hopes that by the time she returned everyone would have forgotten about the whole thing.
She'd made the mistake of growing up tall, headstrong, and beautiful in a world where the girls were supposed to stay virtuous and the youthful indiscretions of the boys were dismissed with a knowing smile, a wink, and the words, "Boys will be boys." It was all her fault in the all-important court of public opinion. It was Ellie who had messed up. That was simply how it worked.
Strange, though, how she'd yearned to hear her father call her Princess after a while. But when Easy Ellie arrived, it seemed that Princess was gone forever. Still, her father had expected her to play the role as best she could from then on out. He'd ask her if she'd met anybody every time she called home from college. When she invariably said she hadn't he would sigh heavily and hand the phone to her mother.
Ellie stayed in college as long as she could, but eventually had to graduate and head back home. She'd taken a job teaching fourth graders at a nearby Christian school, but soon started to feel that her world was far too small. She began dreaming of a life lived according to her own rules and plans. One day she began daydreaming about the life of her middle namesake. Before she realized it, she was making plans to move to Chicago and make use of her double minor in social work and psychology and her major in education.
Ever since she'd left home for the second and, hopefully, last time, her father had not even made a pretense of caring what happened to her or expecting her to meet a man. Her mother always answered the phone and they played a game where both pretended her father had a legitimate reason he couldn't talk and that he sent his love. For the first three months after arriving in Chicago Ellie had cried herself to sleep.
She hadn't actually ended up in Chicago itself. She'd ended up forty miles away from the city in one of the many old river towns that dotted the area. It looked pretty much like every river town in the midwest. A long main street dotted with bars, restaurants, and cute little shops occupying hundred-year old brick and stone buildings dropped sharply towards the river, crossed it on an ornamented span, then climbed another hill on the other side. The farther up the hill out of the river valley or down along the river away from the town center, the more modern the construction became. The cute shops and riverfront parks gave way and were replaced with tract housing, strip malls, Dunkin' Donuts, McDonald's, Meijer, and Menards.
Still, Ellie loved her new home. Easy Ellie was a distant memory, Princess a non-factor. Even if she wasn't exactly the second coming of Jane Addams, she was happy. She had a full-time job working at a day care center and pouring her love in to the children of strangers. Three nights a week she worked at a little coffee shop called the Koffee Klatch. The regulars loved that she was always willing to offer a sympathetic ear and laugh at their lame jokes. And if some of the men seemed just a little too charmed by her southern accent and big, bright, green eyes, well, that was bound to happen sometimes.
And so Eleanor Jane McIntire went through her days outside Chicago, trying desperately to keep herself from realizing that none of her dreams were anywhere close to coming true.
---------------------
Whether or not this ends up going anywhere it's important. It marks a sea change in my perception of narrative structure and, possibly more importantly, a new understanding of the nature of the Self and the Other in both the story and reality. It's also the first time I fully realized the importance of empathy in the creation of a character.
Ellie started out as Jack's love interest and the woman to be won over as part of the overall course of the plot. Over the course of the various scenes I sketched out between coming up with the story in 2006 and the attempted re-write in 2010 she became a fully fleshed-out character with her own hopes, dreams, and voice. I realized that just leaving her as the woman who showed up and gave Jack's journey diminished her. More than that, it robbed her of her life and experience and all the things that brought her into Jack's life.
She was actually a far more interesting character than Jack. I think that's why I ended up keying in on names and the idea of namesakes. The idea of a girl growing up knowing she was expected to be a southern belle by her father but also knowing that she was named for Eleanor Roosevelt and Jane Addams by a secretly rebelling mother fascinated me. She'd always had this sort of inherent agency, longing, and darkness that combined in a way that was far, far more interesting than Jack's rather static tale.
The problem was that I wrote myself into a corner by going with the parallel opening chapters. Jack had to be the main character, as the thing that drove the plot was something that happened to him. I thought about making a not-exactly-parallel structure, where we were introduced to both characters as co-equals, then each chapter was from an alternating perspective. That proved to be far, far too difficult to pull off while also preserving the actual narrative arc the story necessitated.
This, for the record, is why the 2010 re-write didn't get too far. I knew how to get through the first half-dozen chapters. After that I was more than a little lost.
------------------------------
The last thing Eleanor Jane McIntire's father had said to her was, "When you get tired of this rebellion, you come on back home. We'll be waiting." He'd then tossed the last box in to the back of her rented truck and slammed the door shut.
Eleanor, or Ellie, as everyone called her, was a twenty-five-year old college graduate with dreams of a successful career in the big city and a past she was desperate to escape. She'd lived in a world dominated by men and wanted to know what it meant to be a woman for herself.
Her father wanted to be the image of the stern Southern gentleman. That's what the McIntires had been for as long as he knew, after all. He hadn't bothered to trace his lineage back any farther than a Colonel who served under Joe Johnston in the final days of the War of Northern Aggression. It was just as well, as the hard drinking Irish Catholic immgrants who had scraped together the money necessary to buy passage to the New World in the early 1800s wouldn't exactly have met his high standards. Either way, he expected his boys to grow up to be successful gentlemen as well and live up to the family name. He'd expected his daughter to grow up to be a beautiful debutant, even if they weren't part of the class that had such things, and settle down early to the life of the content homemaker. It was expected, it was right, at least in his world.
Her mother, meanwhile, had other plans. After giving birth to four boys and hoping for a girl the entire time, she'd named her only daughter after Eleanor Roosevelt. It was a little act of defiance. She couldn't have gotten away with naming the girl after Susan B. Anthony, but no one seemed to think twice about a First Lady. Even if she was a powerful, determined woman, she had gotten where she was by being a wife. Ellie's middle name, meanwhile, came from Jane Addams, the social work pioneer who had changed the landscape of Chicago forever. It was a good name, a strong name, one Ellie wore with pride.
Her father called her "Princess," a name Ellie pretended to enjoy but secretly simply endured. She had no urge to be a princess or carry the burden the name held. She didn't want to be daddy's little girl or simply Mrs. So-and-so. But as bad as Princess was, it beat by a country mile the name she wore through most of high school, the name that cause her to burn with shame every time she heard it. Easy Ellie, the boys at school called her.
Even after her older brothers beat Tim Johnson so hard he ended up in the hospital the name stuck. It was a whisper, but it was still there. On one level, though, it had been a blessing. Her father had let her leave Atlanta to go away to college in Florida in the hopes that by the time she returned everyone would have forgotten about the whole thing.
She'd made the mistake of growing up tall, headstrong, and beautiful in a world where the girls were supposed to stay virtuous and the youthful indiscretions of the boys were dismissed with a knowing smile, a wink, and the words, "Boys will be boys." It was all her fault in the all-important court of public opinion. It was Ellie who had messed up. That was simply how it worked.
Strange, though, how she'd yearned to hear her father call her Princess after a while. But when Easy Ellie arrived, it seemed that Princess was gone forever. Still, her father had expected her to play the role as best she could from then on out. He'd ask her if she'd met anybody every time she called home from college. When she invariably said she hadn't he would sigh heavily and hand the phone to her mother.
Ellie stayed in college as long as she could, but eventually had to graduate and head back home. She'd taken a job teaching fourth graders at a nearby Christian school, but soon started to feel that her world was far too small. She began dreaming of a life lived according to her own rules and plans. One day she began daydreaming about the life of her middle namesake. Before she realized it, she was making plans to move to Chicago and make use of her double minor in social work and psychology and her major in education.
Ever since she'd left home for the second and, hopefully, last time, her father had not even made a pretense of caring what happened to her or expecting her to meet a man. Her mother always answered the phone and they played a game where both pretended her father had a legitimate reason he couldn't talk and that he sent his love. For the first three months after arriving in Chicago Ellie had cried herself to sleep.
She hadn't actually ended up in Chicago itself. She'd ended up forty miles away from the city in one of the many old river towns that dotted the area. It looked pretty much like every river town in the midwest. A long main street dotted with bars, restaurants, and cute little shops occupying hundred-year old brick and stone buildings dropped sharply towards the river, crossed it on an ornamented span, then climbed another hill on the other side. The farther up the hill out of the river valley or down along the river away from the town center, the more modern the construction became. The cute shops and riverfront parks gave way and were replaced with tract housing, strip malls, Dunkin' Donuts, McDonald's, Meijer, and Menards.
Still, Ellie loved her new home. Easy Ellie was a distant memory, Princess a non-factor. Even if she wasn't exactly the second coming of Jane Addams, she was happy. She had a full-time job working at a day care center and pouring her love in to the children of strangers. Three nights a week she worked at a little coffee shop called the Koffee Klatch. The regulars loved that she was always willing to offer a sympathetic ear and laugh at their lame jokes. And if some of the men seemed just a little too charmed by her southern accent and big, bright, green eyes, well, that was bound to happen sometimes.
And so Eleanor Jane McIntire went through her days outside Chicago, trying desperately to keep herself from realizing that none of her dreams were anywhere close to coming true.
---------------------
Whether or not this ends up going anywhere it's important. It marks a sea change in my perception of narrative structure and, possibly more importantly, a new understanding of the nature of the Self and the Other in both the story and reality. It's also the first time I fully realized the importance of empathy in the creation of a character.
Ellie started out as Jack's love interest and the woman to be won over as part of the overall course of the plot. Over the course of the various scenes I sketched out between coming up with the story in 2006 and the attempted re-write in 2010 she became a fully fleshed-out character with her own hopes, dreams, and voice. I realized that just leaving her as the woman who showed up and gave Jack's journey diminished her. More than that, it robbed her of her life and experience and all the things that brought her into Jack's life.
She was actually a far more interesting character than Jack. I think that's why I ended up keying in on names and the idea of namesakes. The idea of a girl growing up knowing she was expected to be a southern belle by her father but also knowing that she was named for Eleanor Roosevelt and Jane Addams by a secretly rebelling mother fascinated me. She'd always had this sort of inherent agency, longing, and darkness that combined in a way that was far, far more interesting than Jack's rather static tale.
The problem was that I wrote myself into a corner by going with the parallel opening chapters. Jack had to be the main character, as the thing that drove the plot was something that happened to him. I thought about making a not-exactly-parallel structure, where we were introduced to both characters as co-equals, then each chapter was from an alternating perspective. That proved to be far, far too difficult to pull off while also preserving the actual narrative arc the story necessitated.
This, for the record, is why the 2010 re-write didn't get too far. I knew how to get through the first half-dozen chapters. After that I was more than a little lost.
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