So we’re replacing the downstairs carpeting.
And we have a few really massive pieces of furniture.
The carpet company said it would move one of the biggest ones, but the rest were up to us.
My husband and I moved a few piddly things out of the room and closets, then we approached the (very large) sofa. My husband said, “Can you take one end?”
I did. And I couldn’t budge it. Not with my arms, hip, legs—the thing just refused to move.
My husband called out for our 13 year old son. “Honey,” I whispered to him as our son was thumping down the stairs, “there’s no way he can…”
And I watched as he and my husband moved the sofa right into another room. Followed by two other pieces I couldn’t budge.
It was the end of an era. My son is definitely stronger than I am. Much stronger. Yes, I’d noticed he’d gotten taller, yes, he’s beefed up a bit. Yes, his clothing budget is through the roof because he’s growing out of everything. But somehow, in my head, mamas are stronger than their children.
It was a very odd feeling. I felt proud of him. But I felt old and wimpy, too.
One of my protagonists, Myrtle Clover, gets a similar feeling quite a bit. Her son is trying to farm her out to a retirement home and she’s pushing back with plenty of resentment. This adds a little extra conflict to my stories as well as propels the plot—Myrtle’s son is a police chief and she gets involved in his cases to needle him.
What if you’ve got a character who suddenly retires when they’re used to being in charge in an office? Does this mean she’s suddenly redirecting her efforts to another area of her life (one where people maybe aren’t appreciative of it?)
These changing roles don’t have to be age-related.
Stress also comes when a character is suddenly thrust into a leadership role when they’re not used to taking one on.
Or a character who is very active could be forced to take more of a backseat role—like Jimmy Stewart’s character (laid up with a broken leg) in the Hitchcock movie Rear Window. His frustration and boredom drove the plot early in the film.
Maybe you’ve got a really outgoing character who is used to speaking his mind. He decides to run for office…and wins. Now he’s got to watch what he says.
I think these type of scenarios—where our characters change roles in life—can serve a couple of different purposes. For one they serve as additional conflict for the character to deal with. For another, they can help to propel the plot—particularly if the character is frustrated in some way.
Are any of your characters playing new and unfamiliar roles in your book?
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