I recently watched the movie Misery (1990) for the first time, and it worried me just a bit. I have a penchant for killing off characters. It’s not that I like to kill them off or really want to, but I find that death is a great device for moving a story forward. The death of a friend or loved one forces a character to show their true colors. It spurs them either to action or nothingness. It’s the ultimate test for a character, and it challenges them to pick up the pieces of a broken life and pull him or herself up by the proverbial bootstraps. I cry every time a character dies, but still, they die.
Misery, however, makes me stop and think.
Misery, however, makes me stop and think.
If you’ve never seen the movie or read the book, here’s a quick rundown. Paul Sheldon is an author who is rescued from a blizzard-induced car accident by Annie Wilkes, a nurse who greets him when he wakes two days after the accident by saying, “I’m your #1 fan.”
She dotes on him, makes him meals and supplies him with pain pills and chit chats with him. Besides the occasional, disturbing outburst of anger, she’s the perfect hostess.
Until….
She picks up Paul’s latest published book only to find out that he killed off her favorite character, Misery, whom she thinks of as having been ‘murdered’ by Paul. Have I mentioned she’s a little disturbing? Her newfound anger doesn’t bode well for Paul, whose legs are broken and who relies on this somewhat unstable woman for absolutely everything. In the interest of not spoiling the rest of the story, let’s just say that things go downhill from there for Mr. Sheldon. Way, way downhill.
And it’s all because he killed a character. (Although I suppose Annie’s personal issues can be blamed, too.)
Though many people find Misery to be a scary movie, I’m not sure it’s quite the same degree of terrifying that it is to someone who writes and kills off characters.
I’m suddenly thinking it would be safer to write stories about mythological immortal beings. At least that way, Annie Wilkes will never come knocking on my door. My mother has suggested that if I do hear knocking, and I look out my window to see Annie Wilkes waiting on the front step, I shouldn’t let her in. I think this is very wise advice.
In fact, I’d say that’s good advice for anyone out there.
If you go to answer your door, and waiting outside is someone you’re pretty sure is a sadistic homicidal lunatic, well, maybe today is the day you pretend you’re not home.
That being said, I’m off to consider alternatives to killing off characters. Maybe I’ll put them into comas from which they magically wake years later. Maybe I’ll indulge in more internal monologue and less dangerous action. Maybe I’ll take up writing about Smurfs. I could never kill off a Smurf.
She dotes on him, makes him meals and supplies him with pain pills and chit chats with him. Besides the occasional, disturbing outburst of anger, she’s the perfect hostess.
Until….
She picks up Paul’s latest published book only to find out that he killed off her favorite character, Misery, whom she thinks of as having been ‘murdered’ by Paul. Have I mentioned she’s a little disturbing? Her newfound anger doesn’t bode well for Paul, whose legs are broken and who relies on this somewhat unstable woman for absolutely everything. In the interest of not spoiling the rest of the story, let’s just say that things go downhill from there for Mr. Sheldon. Way, way downhill.
And it’s all because he killed a character. (Although I suppose Annie’s personal issues can be blamed, too.)
Though many people find Misery to be a scary movie, I’m not sure it’s quite the same degree of terrifying that it is to someone who writes and kills off characters.
I’m suddenly thinking it would be safer to write stories about mythological immortal beings. At least that way, Annie Wilkes will never come knocking on my door. My mother has suggested that if I do hear knocking, and I look out my window to see Annie Wilkes waiting on the front step, I shouldn’t let her in. I think this is very wise advice.
In fact, I’d say that’s good advice for anyone out there.
If you go to answer your door, and waiting outside is someone you’re pretty sure is a sadistic homicidal lunatic, well, maybe today is the day you pretend you’re not home.
That being said, I’m off to consider alternatives to killing off characters. Maybe I’ll put them into comas from which they magically wake years later. Maybe I’ll indulge in more internal monologue and less dangerous action. Maybe I’ll take up writing about Smurfs. I could never kill off a Smurf.