Blogger: Mary Keeley
I have a theory. People’s reactions to a novel or Christian living book, movies, and to what we hear are as individual as the people themselves. Small details in what you watch or read may strike a chord for you but go unnoticed by others. My theory is that these nuanced differences, if appropriated effectively and consistently, help writers to find their unique voice, their passions, and even to lend clarity to their brand. Whether you’ve never thought about doing this exercise or haven’t done so in years, today is your opportunity to test your reflexes and analyze them.
We spend many days overwhelmed with work and life. I look forward to reading after I shut down my laptop for the night. I have a stack of books on my nightstand that I’m reading, but so often my brain does not shut down. Tomorrow’s schedule and to-do list scroll—march—across the back of my mind. Can you relate? It’s no wonder we miss registering subtle details of our reflex reactions that are unique to us.
Here is the way the exercise will work. Think about two movies and two books, TV or radio programs, or social media posts that have stuck with you because you either liked or disliked something about them. I’ll start us off with an example.
The movies Hunt for Red October and Seabiscuit endure as two of my favorites. I choked inwardly when Jack Ryan jumped from the helicopter into the ocean to get aboard the submarine, because I share his dread of turbulence and I’m not a great swimmer. And my stomach turned at the abuse Red Pollard suffered without his family during depression-era survival. But what resonated with me in both movies was the intelligence of the characters, the way they comported themselves, and their dialogue. The scene in which Ramius and Bart Mancuso debate how to respond to the torpedo coming at them was sublime. The way Red Pollard found pleasure in his books amid the depravation of the Great Depression, the understated instincts of Tom Smith, the horse trainer, and the quiet dignity of both of them were particularly appealing. A common thread in those movies is that the characters learned from each other. I love learning, and I love dignity. Those details are what resonated with me. That’s just me. You might have had little reaction or completely different reactions to these movies. That’s okay. It points to our unique values.
Now it’s your turn. Answer the following questions and then share with us what you discover. Be sensitive to nuances you haven’t noticed up to now.
What kind of reaction did you have to each of them?
- Emotional (compassion, joy, admiration, sympathy, anger, impatience, disrespect, distrust, negative reaction to something about the setting, and so on)
- Thoughtful (logical, agreement, appreciation of a new perspective, truth-doubting, disagreement, distrust).
Most of us recognize these readily, but the next question delves deeper.
Why did you react this way to each of them? Go below the surface to identify specific details triggering your reaction.
- An additional detail you didn’t pick up on until you delved deeper
- Something relating to your personal experience
What are the common threads? Here is where you’ll find insights that set you apart as an author and should be applied to refine your brand.
Share what you discovered or confirmed about your unique values. Have you been applying them in your writing already? I look forward to your comments.
TWEETABLES:
Busy with work and life, writers overlook insightful reflex reactions that define their uniqueness. Click to Tweet.
Test your reflexes to what you see, read and hear, and discover nuances that set your writing apart. Click to Tweet.
peter
Fine choice, loved both movies, but preferred Secretariat. Either way, my response is always to dig deeper – so I know a lot about both horses and that Secretariat had a large heart and was buried whole. He is rated by most as the greatest thoroughbred ever. Ramius and Ryan were very powerful together, but I think Sean Connery was the anchor – he lingers as one of my favorites for his ability to bring such atmosphere to a movie. I miss him. Deeper research also informs my writing – I dig pretty deep into characters, the dynamics between characters, actors, context, background, etc. Books, well to be honest, I only ever read for pure escapism when on holiday – I do a lot of research and reading of material, but not much by way of formal books – I wanted to be original in my writing. I also reference the bible a lot.
Mary Keeley
Peter, it seems we have similar reader/writer values. I too miss Sean Connery, who was the tone-setter in many a movie. And being a lover of horses Secretariat is an equal favorite with the other two movies. Secretariat’s heart was estimated to weigh 22 pounds, almost 3 times the average for a horse, which made him all-heart in body as well as spirit. But I chose Seabiscuit for my example because the characters’ qualities that resonate with me were more pronounced and confirmed core details, for me, that I had picked up on in Red October.
Andrew Budek-Schmeisser
What an interesting -and challenging – question. I’m not doing too well this morning and am having trouble calling literary examples to mind, so, if I may, I’ll turn to music as something I can access now.
* The musical ‘scenes’ that immediately leap up, waving their figurative hands, are the opening bars of prokofiev’s First Piano Concerto, and the ending of Howard Hanson’s Second Symphony.
* Prokofiev opens with three chords, followed by a thrice-repeated four-note run, which is itself repeated after transposition half an octave up. It continues to climb a tonal ‘hill’, and then descends. Here’ the Youtube link – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JqCwQ9clHec
* This opening immediately puts me in mind of what I consider Eero Saarinen’s architectural masterpiece, theTWA Terminal at JFK in New York. Saarinen created a ‘space of deep breaths’, in which the textured rock walls arching overhead into high ceilings freed, rather than confined the heart.
* In his Second Symphony (‘The Romantic’), Hanson achieves in the third movement what many seek but few find – a big ending that works. He opens with a bright and lively phrase sung by the strings, and then slows to a quiet, meditative pause for breath. And then the horns come in low, aided by percussion, with gradually increasing tempo and brightness. If segues into an edifice of almost ponderous majesty…and then the brightness breaks through again, tailing off into a wistfulness carried by the strings…which is followed by a quick up-tempo buildup to a height-scaling climax, that seems (well, to me) to dance on its mountain peak and then launch itself into space…to fly, and not to fall. Here’s the link –
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zHE8e3IKz3g
* What connects these pieces, for me, is the sense of space they create – one architectural, one natural. And in that connection is found the heart of Psalm 118, the fifth and sixth verses – When hard-pressed, I cried to the Lord, and He brought me into a spacious place (many thanks to Jeanne Takenaka for recently bringing this verse to mind!).
* The Psalmist was referring to a place of safety, but there is more, I think; in the passage to that safety, and in its achievement, there is also freedom. Ultimately coming to the place where “God disposes” is made manifest by the choices in one’s life, one is relieved of the burden of actually trying to take on the role (and we all do it!) of created and Creator. Let Him do His part; I will do mine, and together we’ll come out onto those broad sunlit uplands…and God will be as happy as I, for I am finally allowing Him to do His job.
* This passage through the gates of transcendence, from cloying humanity to the liberated life passed in the presence of the Divine, is what animates everything I write (five novels to date, but you can only find one on Amazon). It’s a theme that’s been repeated in my experience, for perhaps I am a slow learner, and is playing out even now, as I learn to forsake that earthly glory I had sought to gain in exchange for the gift, freely offered, of something far more splendid, and infinitely more enduring.
* Whew…that was a long one. My brain hurts.
Kristen Joy Wilks
Hmmm… the last two movies that come to mind that I really loved. . . “Mr. Peabody and Sherman” and “Jurassic World”. One of them was a Momma Movie Night movie with my youngest son and one was a date night movie. What did I love. Mr. Peabody and Sherman made me cry. It made me dig my fingernails into my palms at the horror of having your kids taken away. It made me laugh and want to be a better mom. When they said: “Every boy needs a dog and every dog needs a boy” I couldn’t help but think of my 3 little boys who have been waiting for a puppy for over a year. God finally provided that furry friend (Princess Leia Freyja) and even though we spend a lot of time rushing her outside to the potty and dragging her away from our food and socks (not bite Leia, Leia stuck her whole nose into the peanut butter, Help help Leia is pulling down my pants) their special relationship brings tears to my eyes. Let’s see, Jurassic World. It was exactly what a date night movie should be. Foolish business folk doing dumb stuff with science. A lovable and super annoying rogue with skills and a snotty girl who is more inside than she realizes. And dinosaurs loose and crunching through the game park. There is the thrill of knowing that something is a bad idea and then seeing the folly of messing with God’s creatures in action (thus the crunching) there is that terrible moment where the snotty lady realizes her nephews are in peril and that everything else she thought was important totally was not. There is her growth as she puts it all on the line for those she loves. There is the crash of two dinos battling it out and you cheer inside as the beloved T-Rex comes to the rescue…even as you worry that she might eat a favorite character. Hmmm…these don’t have a lot in common. But they do. There is the idea of realizing how important someone is. Family and action and fun. The Wayback machine and Jurassic Park. Science gone wrong and people gone wrong being restored. I like fun movies, but I also like family growth and love and realization in characters.
The Last two books that I really loved, argh this is hard. “The Burning Sky” by Sherry Thomas and “Cress” by Marissa Meyer. OK, I’m going to have to do three. “Etiquette and Espionage” by Gail Carriger. I’m not going to analyze these other than to say that all three have fabulous voices and are super fun with deeply human female protags who are a blast to spend a book with.
Shelli Littleton
You have really made me think this morning. 🙂 The moment on stage … the moment I watch over and over … the moment that makes me watch the movie again and again (or read that line in the book again and again). “The dance” with Miss Potter and the end moment of Pride & Prejudice when Mr. Darcy is walking toward Elizabeth in all his authority. I sit frozen on the edge of my seat and melt down on both of these moments and cry. Why? Because in both circumstances, one is stepping out of their “class” to love another and follow their heart, showing strength. I love you … you are not beneath me. I love you … you are not above me. I am not beneath you … I am not above you. But also, because it’s such a tender moment. Tender is my undoing.
I did apply this to my latest MS … I just didn’t stop to think about why. 🙂
Shelli Littleton
Books … I’ll just add quickly–it’s the same–The Pursuit of Tamsen Littlejohn by Lori Benton, when Jesse says to Tamsen, “Would you mind it if I was to kiss you?” And Miracle in a Dry Season by Sarah Loudin Thomas, where Casewell throws his watch on his truck floorboard … he’s going after his girl regardless and doesn’t have time to spare. 🙂
Mary Keeley
Shelli, your examples indicate the promise that the love in your stories will be nothing superficial, but rather tender and committed, whatever the cost. Am I guessing accurately that this is a defining value for your writing?
Shelli Littleton
Yes, Mary. You are guessing accurately. Even between a woman and a child. And thank you for helping me to see it … and why. 🙂
Meghan Carver
Shelli, that scene in Pride & Prejudice is the best! He hasn’t given up on her. He wants one more chance. “It has taught me to hope.” *sniffle*
Mary Keeley
Amen, Meghan.
Shelli Littleton
Yes, Meghan. And it floors me that she stands there waiting for him … but that’s what makes the scene so beautiful … his long time coming to her, the walk, his jacket flapping in the breeze. I want to say, “Run to him. You know you love him. Run.” 🙂
Jaime Wright
One of my favorites is an obscure children’s classic titled, “Goodbye, My Lady” between a boy and his dog. The title implies the ending. It has stuck with me since I was nine and read it with mom who cried so hard at the end, I insisted I could read it, then I started sobbing, so my older, teenaged brother stated, “give me the book”. At which point, when he started crying, my mom summoned her bravery and read the last few pages through snorts, gasps, and lots of Kleenex.
I believe that covers the surface emotional reaction. But why did we cry? By the end of the book, Lady had become our dog. We could smell her, feel her, see her, pet her, and hear her. Our sense were alive by the vivid relationship she had with the boy in the book. At 9, I’m sure I didn’t delve too introspectively into the “thoughtful” zone, but I do recall determining I would always own a dog. Because, after Lady, why wouldn’t you?
I remember thinking Lady was a lot like me. That abandoned dog that someone adopts and makes their own. Lady was fiercely loyal to her boy because he took her in. My own childhood experience reflects the same need to be loved and adopted. I related to that fierceness in Lady. She felt the same way I did.
A huge common thread in “Goodbye My Lady” was the settings that threw the dog and its owner ever closer together. Every scene made them love harder, feel deeper, and forge an even more ironclad bond.
I’ve always been attracted to novels such as these. Where gritty, hard adversities, sometimes very unpleasant, pushes people together and every scene makes that tie, even if unrecognized yet, unbreakable. The deep emotional threads of their heartaches, their past, the circumstances that have forged them and the reasons for why the act the way they do. This is probably why I study personality profiles like Myers-Briggs, how a person processes, thinks, judges, perceives, etc.
Yep. Now I’m crying. I miss my Lady.
Andrew Budek-Schmeisser
Something’s wrong with my computer screen. It’s gone all blurry, all of a sudden.
Jeanne Takenaka
Loved this, Jaime. You made me tear up. I think my favorite children’s book is Love You Forever. I love how that mama loved, even when her son was in the rebellious stages, and in the busy new dad stages, and how it ends. I can never read the last few pages without choking up.
Mary Keeley
I’m with you, Jeanne. I can’t read that book without resonating deeply with that kind of love for my own children. We gave a copy to each of them…when they were teens.
Mary Keeley
Excellent analyzing, Jaime. You may not have analyzed when you were 9, but you were aware nonetheless, and those details that stuck with you surely will be apparent in all your writing.
Andrew Budek-Schmeisser
“He needed more luck than I could give him. Twenty minutes later he was dead.”
* I read those sentences when I was in the fourth grade; they were from a period narrative of the Battle of Britain, written by an American journalist who had been interviewing a British fighter pilot when the call came to intercept a German attack. The journalist wished his subject luck, but that wish didn’t come true.
* I don’;t remember either title or author – I was nine years old.
* Several decades later, in Al Sever’s memoir of his time as a helicopter crew chief and door gunner in Southeast Asia, “Xin Loi, Viet Nam”, there is the description of the author’s grief on losing a friend in a helicopter crash – the main rotor departed the aircraft, and it fell like a rock. Sever’s friend, a fellow crew chief, uncorked a smoke grenade and held it on the ride down, leaving a banner of defiance to the last. A painful gesture, as smokes get hot.
* But this was not the end; several days later Sever was unable to sleep, and he saw his dead comrade, thirty feet away, leaning against a sandbag wall. The man waved, and then walked into the hootch of a mutual friend…to whom Sever never mentioned the events of that night.
* What links these two, in my heart, is the bewildering speed with which so much can be lost, and the bridge that connects us to the transcendent, which we are so rarely allowed to glimpse as it shimmers in the holy light that surrounds and dazzles us.
* This theme is a, or perhaps the mainspring of my life; that though death approaches, and I hear its fell voice on the air, this is not the end. For like Haley Joel Osment’s character in “The Sixth Sense”, I see dead people; in several near-death experiences, friends I had thought lost came to meet me, to take me home, if indeed I was going.
* There is no need for despair; I write because I want to share that message. We’re surrounded by a Love that held us in His heart before we were born, who weeps for our smallest heartbreaks, and who would, and did, die for us. Nothing good is forever lost; nothing beautiful is only a dream.
Mary Keeley
Andrew, your core value is in clear focus, and God is using it.
Andrew Budek-Schmeisser
Mary, thank you. That means a lot to me.
* It’s interesting -whenmymuch-loved academic career ended, and things got really difficult with health and a large drop in income, God was leading me to this new place, this ministry of hope. I don’t know what else to call it.
* It took awhile to see the outlines, and it has taken all of my heart, and all of my love to do it. Perhaps that is what He intended.
Jeanne Takenaka
You got me thinking, Mary. Which is always a good thing.
It may seem light, but one movie that I come back to again and again is Leap Year. There’s one scene that always makes me tear up; she’s looking at the guy who helped her get to Dublin. I can almost picture her wondering if she said yes to the wrong man. As I was thinking on this this morning, I saw that she had to let go of the control she held her life with in order to find the happiness she’d always wanted. It makes me think about my walk with the Lord. When I am trying to control everything, I miss out on the blessings He has for me. It requires faith to let go of what I know and embrace the unknown.
A book that I still think about is Angela Hunt’s, The Debt. The heroine’s son (who she gave up for adoption) comes into her life at an inopportune time. But, his way of loving others well challenges her to live her own life looking beyond the neat walls she’s put around it. When something happens to her son, I cry because I wanted things to turn out differently. Because he came to life in my mind, and in my heart. This book has challenged me to love more freely and to try look at others through Jesus’ eyes.
I’m going to be thinking about what it is in other books that elicits a response from me, that exercises my reflexes. 🙂 Thanks for sharing this today!
Mary Keeley
You’re welcome, Jeanne. I would love to hear the specifics your deeper thinking identifies. They could influence your brand.
Michelle Ule
Funny, I’m writing about The Hunt for Red October tomorrow on my blog!
And of that movie, my favorite scenes are the first one–the haunting Soviet singers coming out of the background against the stark and lonely fjord–and the last one–The USS Dallas saving the day by swooping in behind the Red October and then hitting an emergency blow to the surface.
I know it’s because that was my life for so many years, and the pride in my husband’s work, the danger he lived under (though he pointed out in 21 years he never fired a torpedo in war), and the lonely emotion of being a military wife with him out to sea, hit me there.
Interestingly enough, some of my favorite novels also touch on that loneliness broken by a loved one connecting once more, sometimes in a surprising way.
It’s a good exercise when you have several novels/novellas under your belt, to examine them like an English major and see where your themes head.
And that must be why I like to write about people hanging on to their faith in a world of challenging circumstances, as they look for ways to cross the barriers and restore relationships.
Thanks.
Andrew Budek-Schmeisser
Interesting that you mentioned the singing…when Mary brought up THFRO it was the first thing that came to mind – it was something of a defining moment.
* I couldn’t watch the whole movie – the book was so powerful (Clancy’s best work, I think) that I didn’t want it overlain with a new set of images that might not have been congruent with the ones I’d formed. The only really successful book-to-film transition for me was “The African Queen”; even without the Cockney accent (which he apparently just couldn’t do) Bogart truly inhabited the persona of Charlie Nuttall.
* And I think I speak for all of us when I offer a heartfelt thank you to you, and to your husband, Michelle. You both served, and you both kept us safe through a scary period in the world’s history.
Mary Keeley
Oh yes, there was a undertone in the Soviet sailors’ singing against the stark setting. There was something about it–haunting for sure–but I never could quite put my finger on it until you identified it now. Michelle, thanks for this great example of how a detail, or theme, from personal life experience can mark an author’s uniqueness.
Andrew Budek-Schmeisser
I’m not sure what happened, but when I put up my first comment, it didn’t appear – I was feeling pretty awful, and could not think ‘literary’, so I used a musical metaphor. I put in two Youtube links the the pieces I referenced, and maybe that blocked it?
* Anyway, for those who might be interested in how music informs at least one writer’s work, here it is, sans links…
What an interesting -and challenging – question. I’m not doing too well this morning and am having trouble calling literary examples to mind, so, if I may, I’ll turn to music as something I can access now.
* The musical ‘scenes’ that immediately leap up, waving their figurative hands, are the opening bars of prokofiev’s First Piano Concerto, and the ending of Howard Hanson’s Second Symphony.
* Prokofiev opens with three chords, followed by a thrice-repeated four-note run, which is itself repeated after transposition half an octave up. It continues to climb a tonal ‘hill’, and then descends.
* This opening immediately puts me in mind of what I consider Eero Saarinen’s architectural masterpiece, theTWA Terminal at JFK in New York. Saarinen created a ‘space of deep breaths’, in which the textured rock walls arching overhead into high ceilings freed, rather than confined the heart.
* In his Second Symphony (‘The Romantic’), Hanson achieves in the third movement what many seek but few find – a big ending that works. He opens with a bright and lively phrase sung by the strings, and then slows to a quiet, meditative pause for breath. And then the horns come in low, aided by percussion, with gradually increasing tempo and brightness. If segues into an edifice of almost ponderous majesty…and then the brightness breaks through again, tailing off into a wistfulness carried by the strings…which is followed by a quick up-tempo buildup to a height-scaling climax, that seems (well, to me) to dance on its mountain peak and then launch itself into space…to fly, and not to fall.
* What connects these pieces, for me, is the sense of space they create – one architectural, one natural. And in that connection is found the heart of Psalm 118, the fifth and sixth verses – When hard-pressed, I cried to the Lord, and He brought me into a spacious place (many thanks to Jeanne Takenaka for recently bringing this verse to mind!).
* The Psalmist was referring to a place of safety, but there is more, I think; in the passage to that safety, and in its achievement, there is also freedom. Ultimately coming to the place where “God disposes” is made manifest by the choices in one’s life, one is relieved of the burden of actually trying to take on the role (and we all do it!) of created and Creator. Let Him do His part; I will do mine, and together we’ll come out onto those broad sunlit uplands…and God will be as happy as I, for I am finally allowing Him to do His job.
* This passage through the gates of transcendence, from cloying humanity to the liberated life passed in the presence of the Divine, is what animates everything I write (five novels to date, but you can only find one on Amazon). It’s a theme that’s been repeated in my experience, for perhaps I am a slow learner, and is playing out even now, as I learn to forsake that earthly glory I had sought to gain in exchange for the gift, freely offered, of something far more splendid, and infinitely more enduring.
* Whew…that was a long one. My brain hurts.
Jenni Brummett
The first movie that came to mind is The King’s Speech. There’s not a lot of action, but there is so much power in the message.
The way Lionel Logue compassionately yet firmly digs into why King George VI stutters. How Queen Elizabeth shows her love and determination to find someone to help her husband.
And my favorite exchange:
King George VI: I have a right to be heard! I have a voice!
Lionel Logue: Yes, you do. You have such perseverance, Bertie. You’re the bravest man I know. You’ll make a bloody good king.
Many moments in this movie make me cry. After work, I’ll do some more delving in to find out why. Thanks for asking, Mary. 🙂
Mary Keeley
Jenni, we’d love to hear what you discover from your delving.
Jennifer Zarifeh Major
In The Last of the Mohicans, the moment when Magua *sees* Alice. Not as his prisoner, but as perhaps someone he could truly care for. When he tilts his head, then tries to get her to come away from the cliff. She is not buying his sudden desire to show kindness, especially after he sliced Uncas open and tossed him to his death.
The look Magua gives Alice is proof that he isn’t completely dead inside. But the next moment, after she jumps off the cliff, Magua has the expression of “Okay, well, I tried. You guys saw me try to be nice, right? Yes? No? Okay, whatever, let’s go. I’m hungry.” And then they try to walk away.
Every time I watch that movie, I have the hope that Magua will grab Alice and say “Enough killing! I’ll take you home and keep you safe.”
Buuuut, nope. Every single time, Magua’s thirst for revenge takes over and he slaughters everyone in sight.
I often wonder, if Alice had just trusted him for a minute, then our heroes would have made it up the path in time to save her.
So, why this movie, and why this scene?
Because IF Alice had been brave for a moment longer, she’d have stayed alive long enough to be rescued.
I always have hope in that scene. And even thought it’s always dashed, I am thankful that my ever present hope in the impossible is alive and well.
Second film?
Baz Luhrmann’s 1992 hit, Strictly Ballroom.
Fran is the invisible ugly duckling at the dance studio. Scott Hastings is the wonder boy with a room full of trophies, who’s causing a stir because he wants to dance his own steps, not the steps that are approved by the dance federation. In order to win, Scott MUST dance “strictly ballroom”, nothing else. But he’s sick of doing what others expect of him and wants to be his own man.
The daughter of Spanish immigrants, Fran is the only one who is willing to dance with him. Problem is, Fran is a wall flower with no talent. Or so everyone thinks.
Through Fran, Scott learns that “a life lived in fear is a life half lived” and decides they will dance together, come heck or high water.
At the crucial moment, when the trophy is on the line, Scott’s mother and her cronies convince him to stay inside the box, so he bails on Fran and takes the safe route to the championships.
Just as Scott is about to dance with another partner, his quirky, mouse of a father-who no one respects whatsoever-tells Scott to dance anyway, “Don’t live your life in fear!”
The scene at the end of the film, in which Scott and Fran dance the Pasodoble in front of a cheering crowd, makes me weep every time.
her dress is firey red, he’s wearing a spectacular golden bull-fighter’s jacket. They dance like they alone are in the room, and it’s electrifying.
They why?
Because, a life lived in fear IS a life half lived!!!
I will write what is on my heart, or I will go down trying.
The last few years, as I began the long walk down the writer’s road, have taught me that I did indeed shut the door on the whispers of God. Mostly out of fear.
Now?
Lead on, Oh King Eternal.
*
Excellent post, Mary!!!
Andrew Budek-Schmeisser
I find that I understand Magua quite well. The events of one’s life can lead to a sort of compartmentalization, because otherwise you will go mad. He couldn’t save Alice, and that was simply something that couldn’t be changed. It’s not heartlessness, nor is it the sign of a dead soul. It’s simply what one has to do, to go on.
* What you said, Jennifer, that each time you see it you hope it will somehow be different…that reminds me of Paul Greengrass’s masterful “United 93”. You don’t really get to know the passengers, except that you ARE one of them, for they are Us. Every time I see it, I hope that they can move just a bit quicker, before Saeed can roll the aeroplane inverted and pull the nose down into that fatal dive. I share their last, desperate hope that courage and audacity can triumph over an implacable evil.
* An as a personal aside, I was on one of the first flights airborne after the air traffic stop of 9/11. In a blatant though understandable example of profiling, the flight attendant asked me to move from my assigned seat to one directly behind two fellows she thought looked suspicious (giving me direct instructions that I will not repeat here, but you can guess), and moved other big fellas into the same area. It looked a bit like a rugger scrum about to happen, and those poor chaps sat dead still for the entire flight.
* When we landed, the two men were crying, and I stayed with them for a bit. They understood what was done, and why. They were scared, but not resentful, for this was their country, adopted, to be sure, but theirs as well, nonetheless.
Mary Keeley
Jennifer, overcoming fear definitely is a core value in your writing. I’ve never seen Strictly Ballroom. I’m going to have to watch it.