INFORMING THE SPIRIT

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In my previous posts on this topic, I talked about the portrait that inspired the character, Merel de Vries, protagonist of When Starlings Fly as One, and the time and place that defined her experience. In this third and last part of the series, I go inside the character to her feelings and reactions.

After discovering the portrait, the main structure of the character—situation, personal connections, physical features—came quickly into focus. But what of the fires that burn inside her? What makes up her inner spirit? What drives her? What obstructs? What causes her to stumble? And what could I give her from my own heart and experience?

At first I thought Merel and I had little in common. She is quite small while I am tall. She is an only child and an orphan, while I come from an average family with two sisters. And I tend to be an introvert while she inserts herself quite boldly into conversations beyond her status. 

I stumbled about, writing along the historical timeline and weaving Merel into it. I began to feel her more than hear her, especially her frustration around her size when taller and older people received more respect and recognition, and the benefits that accompanied those. This drew me to a memory: the “first green chair.”

You may laugh, but my experience came back to me that as the youngest of three sisters, I was generally at the end of the receiving line, offered the last pick, and dressed in hand-me-downs. When it was time to watch TV after school, one of my two sisters always called it: “First green chair!” She who called it first got to sit in the green swivel rocking chair closest to the screen. Second place got to sit in the second green chair, a little further away—still good but not prime. I had to sit several feet away on the couch, or on the floor. Even if I called it first, I wasn’t heard and could never win. My sisters could just go do something else and leave me with an empty victory. 

So, it’s not event, size or circumstance that I can relate to in Merel’s life, but the feelings. No one wants to listen to her. She’s treated as a child when she is a woman. Her value and ideas are discounted. 

Merel’s way of coping and surviving is by using her size to advantage. She can hide behind things like tall chairs; she can go places others can’t, and she can secret herself in places to overhear valuable conversation. Here, I was reminded about the gold wingback chair.

One night when our parents were out for dinner together, my best friend and I invited a boy to my house so that he and my friend might get more acquainted. We were 12 or 13 years old, so I’m talking about a kiss here, nothing more. Naturally the parents came home early for drinks in our living room. While I diverted attention, my friend hid behind the tall wingback chair upholstered in gold brocade until the moment came when she could sneak the boy out again. I remember how that felt, too. Sheer terror and then relief and elation.

I suppose it emboldened us. Sleepovers became a time to fake-sleep until we could hear the parents snoring, then sneak out the bedroom window, romp through the dark, empty streets of our neighborhood and meet friends (boys) in open houses under construction. We never were caught. I think it gave us confidence that we were clever and could get away with things. That experience informed Merel’s boldness and boasting that she could do things, go places, and handle situations she’d not yet tried, as well as her joyful friendship with Jayne O’Keeffe. 

In the 17th century, religion was a huge part of people’s lives. The Dutch tended to lean toward Calvinism—a more independent faith in which people could find their own answers and interpretations of God by reading scripture directly. Merel has only a passing interest in religion, though she attends chapel as all were expected to do. She prefers her own place of worship in the trees among the birds. Perhaps my own experience informs this also. Religion was always a choice in my family, and I loved to climb trees where I studied the heavens from the holly and avocado trees in my own back yard.

These and other memories from my life have shaped Merel’s character in many ways I did not expect, and that’s part of what makes the writing process interesting, fun, and self-explorative.