The Kind of Story I Want to Write
I just watched Love and Monsters on Netflix. If you haven’t seen it yet, I won’t spoil anything. Though I will say, “Slather that biscuit with honey and give me another!” That’s me trying not to swear. It’s not pathetic; it’s adorable. Anyway, as I was saying, I’m supposed to be heading to bed. It’s what the responsible people of the world are doing right now. Yet, my mind has other plans that all involve reliving every scene in that movie.
Quick non-spoiler summary:
- Humans don’t think through their actions which results in bugs and like all the invertebrates mutating into monsters. (Yes, I know, but you read books about dragons so let’s continue.)
- The last vestiges of society live in bunkers that communicate through HAM radios while trying not to get eaten by unspeakable nasties. One of those bunkers contains Joel and another one 85 miles away contains his long lost girlfriend Aimee.
- Joel who doesn’t fit in within his compound of heroes because he freezes whenever he’s scared, decides to embark on a seven day trip on the surface to meet back up with his girlfriend, the only person in the world left alive who loves him.
- Adventure ensues and more stuff I can’t talk about because I promised not to tell you. (Go watch it! I’ll watch it with you. When are you free? Like now?)
Now don’t get your hopes up too high. My tastes aren’t the same as, well, most people I know. For me, there’s something about a character who’s vulnerable in a social way who doesn’t solve problems like everyone around them, who doesn’t look at the world like anyone else, so they don’t fit in. Then something huge and unexpected happens, and that person becomes the hero in the sweetest and most satisfying way.
Plus, the journey has to be soaked in this almost innocent sense of wonder: stunning scenery oozing awe in the traditional sense of the word, people who completely surprise you in the best sort of way, new companions that become best friends, hints of things learned that become vital for the climax.
I like to call it the How to Train Your Dragon effect. If you haven’t seen this movie, where in the heck have you been? Watch it. Right now. While you’re there, just watch all three. If those movies, especially that magical first one, don’t move you profoundly, then you might not understand what I’m getting at. If, however, Hiccup and Toothless make you long to live on a desolate, rocky island in the middle of a frozen ocean with no internet just so you can have a dragon as a companion, then you know.
There’s a lot made about the relationship between the boy and the dragon–and it is truly breathtaking–but to me the real magic is Hiccup discovering what his role is in the world when every label that’s been given to him doesn’t quite fit. There’s something about heading off on a journey that you are certain is going to end up one way and being pleasantly surprised by a completely different outlook. In this case, dragons are evil and must be destroyed before they destroy us turns into dragons are simply a part of this world and we can get along with them and make our existence better.
Love and Monsters pulls off this tightrope of a plot in such a satisfying way that I almost hit play again when it was over. I wanted to hold on to the way that movie made me feel: the tragic loss, the found family, the mentors, the companion, and finally the hope. Though “finally the hope” isn’t really true, because that piece is woven throughout the movie through Joel. He’s smart and damaged and creative and humble and he’s exactly the hero we need. He just needed to find that out for himself first.
All of this to say, this is the kind of story I want to write. It’s always the story I’ve wanted to write. I still don’t know if I’m a good enough writer to pull it off, but I do know that it’s my end game. And I’m going to triumph eventually. Because, like Hiccup and Joel, I see the positive and I’m not about to give up.
