Perspectives
The one sentence pitch for this story:
The one sentence pitch for this story:
A car accident is told from six different perspectives...
A car accident is told from six different perspectives...
The Victim
There’s a blackness so deep it almost glows. And that’s all there is. I’ve an awareness of myself, but nothing more. It’s as though I’m surrounded by an emptiness, a vacuum, that draws me outward to fill it, and it stretches me so thin I almost don’t feel like I exist. I know that I haven’t the strength to fight it forever. For a half a second I am enough to reflect on what had happened. I remember it like a dream: the warmth of a fire, presents unwrapping, a scooter I could ride; and then – from out of the darkness – I see the lights of a car, made ghostly by the cloud of wet sleet and snow that’s being whipped by the wind. The lights approach me, faster and faster; and then a dull clunk like two stones clashing. And then I’m alone again, in a blackness so deep that it almost glows…
The Victim
There’s a blackness so deep it almost glows. And that’s all there is. I’ve an awareness of myself, but nothing more. It’s as though I’m surrounded by an emptiness, a vacuum, that draws me outward to fill it, and it stretches me so thin I almost don’t feel like I exist. I know that I haven’t the strength to fight it forever. For a half a second I am enough to reflect on what had happened. I remember it like a dream: the warmth of a fire, presents unwrapping, a scooter I could ride; and then – from out of the darkness – I see the lights of a car, made ghostly by the cloud of wet sleet and snow that’s being whipped by the wind. The lights approach me, faster and faster; and then a dull clunk like two stones clashing. And then I’m alone again, in a blackness so deep that it almost glows…
The Driver
I shouldn’t be here. But I can’t leave. It wasn't my fault. But I know I’ll replay this again and again for the rest of my life. I’ll live this forever… I was driving to my parents’ house; there was incessant noise from the backseat; the snow and sleet flew so thick it was like a fog. And then, there was a moment where it parted, as though some divine wind had passed, but it was already too late… I can still see her face, strangely frozen, in an eyes-wide-open moment of pure terror. And that’s the image I’ll take with me, branded into my mind. And when I close my eyes to sleep, she’ll be there as well. I curl up and cry.
The Driver
I shouldn’t be here. But I can’t leave. It wasn't my fault. But I know I’ll replay this again and again for the rest of my life. I’ll live this forever… I was driving to my parents’ house; there was incessant noise from the backseat; the snow and sleet flew so thick it was like a fog. And then, there was a moment where it parted, as though some divine wind had passed, but it was already too late… I can still see her face, strangely frozen, in an eyes-wide-open moment of pure terror. And that’s the image I’ll take with me, branded into my mind. And when I close my eyes to sleep, she’ll be there as well. I curl up and cry.
The Nurse
I check the instruments, but nothing’s changed. She's in a coma and unless she wakes up soon she’ll stay that way until we shut her down. The man who hit her looks awful – thank God he’s sober. I feel for him, I really do. I feel for her as well… and the family. God, the family! But the truth is that it’s hard to hold that care for everyone and my mind begins to wander. I keep an eye on the readings, there’s not much I can do, and if I’m honest, a part of me is itching to check my phone and see if Hannah’s still on for our date on Thursday. I know it’s insensitive, and so I concentrate to hold back a smile at the thought of her… There’s a cold wash of guilt as I look back at the girl on the bed, her skin as pale as a ghost, and remind myself that there’s nothing I can do.
The Nurse
I check the instruments, but nothing’s changed. She's in a coma and unless she wakes up soon she’ll stay that way until we shut her down. The man who hit her looks awful – thank God he’s sober. I feel for him, I really do. I feel for her as well… and the family. God, the family! But the truth is that it’s hard to hold that care for everyone and my mind begins to wander. I keep an eye on the readings, there’s not much I can do, and if I’m honest, a part of me is itching to check my phone and see if Hannah’s still on for our date on Thursday. I know it’s insensitive, and so I concentrate to hold back a smile at the thought of her… There’s a cold wash of guilt as I look back at the girl on the bed, her skin as pale as a ghost, and remind myself that there’s nothing I can do.
The Messenger
I know they’re in there. I spoke to them earlier. I reassured them as well as I could. Over the years, I’ve learnt the knack of that: if you’re too hopeful it makes things harder later on – eventually it seems almost cruel; it makes for an easier shift if you keep expectations low. I resent the times when I deal with this like it’s a job, but it is. Their only child, and she’s gone. Is that a job? Carrying news like this. Is it something you should do so often you’re good at it? Before I open the door – every time – I remind myself that although this how I pay my bills, this isn’t a job. This is about life, and I’ve gotta do what I’ve gotta to do, because someone’s gotta do it.
The Messenger
I know they’re in there. I spoke to them earlier. I reassured them as well as I could. Over the years, I’ve learnt the knack of that: if you’re too hopeful it makes things harder later on – eventually it seems almost cruel; it makes for an easier shift if you keep expectations low. I resent the times when I deal with this like it’s a job, but it is. Their only child, and she’s gone. Is that a job? Carrying news like this. Is it something you should do so often you’re good at it? Before I open the door – every time – I remind myself that although this how I pay my bills, this isn’t a job. This is about life, and I’ve gotta do what I’ve gotta to do, because someone’s gotta do it.
The Family
She’s gone. There are no words. There is only grief, and the memories that burn.
The Family
She’s gone. There are no words. There is only grief, and the memories that burn.
The T-Shirt
Sh*t happens.
The T-Shirt
Sh*t happens.
Notes on the writing:
Notes on the writing:
This idea started with the structure: I wanted to explore writing in different voices. To be honest, I'm not sure how well I achieved that - though the characters' tones change, I'm not sure the writing style does. But the idea of taking a simple event and then exploring different perspectives by physically breaking up the story, works quite well.
This idea started with the structure: I wanted to explore writing in different voices. To be honest, I'm not sure how well I achieved that - though the characters' tones change, I'm not sure the writing style does. But the idea of taking a simple event and then exploring different perspectives by physically breaking up the story, works quite well.
I knew I wanted to start with the victim - I've always loved the idea of using writing to explore experiences after death. I also felt that this as an opening would allow me to open with something a little surreal and attention grabbing. I like the opening here - we know what's going on without it being shoved down our throats.
I knew I wanted to start with the victim - I've always loved the idea of using writing to explore experiences after death. I also felt that this as an opening would allow me to open with something a little surreal and attention grabbing. I like the opening here - we know what's going on without it being shoved down our throats.
The key moments, though, come when we meet the nurse and the character who has to deliver the news. This was an opportunity for me to explore the kinds of people who do this for a living. I used to know someone who was a paediatrician and the stories she came home with some days would blow your mind! The medical profession works , every day, with people in extreme situations. What's commonplace for them, will be unforgettable for the people they encounter. I enjoyed exploring this struggle.
The key moments, though, come when we meet the nurse and the character who has to deliver the news. This was an opportunity for me to explore the kinds of people who do this for a living. I used to know someone who was a paediatrician and the stories she came home with some days would blow your mind! The medical profession works , every day, with people in extreme situations. What's commonplace for them, will be unforgettable for the people they encounter. I enjoyed exploring this struggle.
It's also worth saying that, like a lot of people might have done, I'd assumed the nurse was a woman when I started writing them, but then I decided I didn't want it to be that simple - this story was all about playing with presumptions - so I had her going on a date with Hannah, which means she's either a man or a lesbian, either of which is fine, but both of which challenge some people's societal norms which is something I think writers increasingly have almost got a responsibility to do.
It's also worth saying that, like a lot of people might have done, I'd assumed the nurse was a woman when I started writing them, but then I decided I didn't want it to be that simple - this story was all about playing with presumptions - so I had her going on a date with Hannah, which means she's either a man or a lesbian, either of which is fine, but both of which challenge some people's societal norms which is something I think writers increasingly have almost got a responsibility to do.
The last point to make was the ending: that came to me while I was writing the one line for the family. In a horrible way, it seemed fitting to finish the narrative by acknowledging the positions of the nurse and the messenger. These kinds of things do happen every day in our world; shit does happen. The death of a child is soul destroying for a family; but it also happens every day, and in the grand sweep of human existence it won't even measure. Both of those things are true.
The last point to make was the ending: that came to me while I was writing the one line for the family. In a horrible way, it seemed fitting to finish the narrative by acknowledging the positions of the nurse and the messenger. These kinds of things do happen every day in our world; shit does happen. The death of a child is soul destroying for a family; but it also happens every day, and in the grand sweep of human existence it won't even measure. Both of those things are true.
How you could use this...
How you could use this...
It's often a nice idea to have a few different structures in mind to take into an exam, and a structure like this is endlessly malleable.
It's often a nice idea to have a few different structures in mind to take into an exam, and a structure like this is endlessly malleable.
You could use this fragmented structure to look at a whole range of other events:
You could use this fragmented structure to look at a whole range of other events:
bullying would be interesting - How does the bully feel - have they been victims themselves? The victim - did they do anything to incite the incident? The teacher - are they tired and just want to go home, or sympathetic and want much more from the kids? How do the parents feel - Embarrassed? Defensive? Angry?
bullying would be interesting - How does the bully feel - have they been victims themselves? The victim - did they do anything to incite the incident? The teacher - are they tired and just want to go home, or sympathetic and want much more from the kids? How do the parents feel - Embarrassed? Defensive? Angry?
Lots of different types of criminality bring up questions of need: did he rob the shop because he was starving or greedy? Who else would be involved in this story?
Lots of different types of criminality bring up questions of need: did he rob the shop because he was starving or greedy? Who else would be involved in this story?
And I can't help but think that any kind of protest would be rich ground for a structure like this - the police, the protestors, counter protestors, passers by, etc...
And I can't help but think that any kind of protest would be rich ground for a structure like this - the police, the protestors, counter protestors, passers by, etc...
The options are limitless, and it could fit against a whole range of different stimuli...
The options are limitless, and it could fit against a whole range of different stimuli...