A Writer’s Life: What Moves You?
Note: If you have not watched Sons of Anarchy and have any desire to do so in the future - or you’re currently watching and haven’t gotten to Season 5 season yet, you may want to skip this in it’s entirety. Spoilers ahead.
I was thinking last night, as I listened to the song “The Lost Boy” by Greg Holden from my Spotify list, about what in a story moves me? Is it tragedy? Is it redemption? Is it someone finally getting what they deserve, whether that’s a punch in the face or a million dollars?
For me, I think it’s tragedy. But I know it’s different for everyone.
The greatest television example in my head right now is this one. Opie’s death - in which I screamed - literally screamed at the television during my initial watch on FX - and his subsequent funeral both leave me an emotional mess. The song above is what plays during his funeral in the show, and I have latched onto that song
From the very first episode of SoA, Opie was my favorite character, and I am far from alone in that. Opie was trying the best he could to play both sides of the fence - the motorcycle club and his family - and failing. But we rooted for him to succeed. We wanted him to find his middle ground and we wanted him to be our hero of the story.
And he was, for many of us.
It wasn’t that I disliked Jax. I liked him fine. Charlie Hunnam did an amazing job in his representation of the son of the founder of the namesake motorcyle club. But Opie was the one that pulled on my heart strings and kept me watching. Kept me enthralled. Kept me at the edge of my seat more times than I could count. He was the epitome of someone who wanted a better life. Needed a better life. And deserved a better life.
He moved me.
But, as the pictures show, and as I said, Opie dies in the fifth season of the show. Ryan Hurst did an amazing job in his portrayal of this rough and tumble biker. Even the death scene was dramatic and full of angst, from the audience as well as his brothers-in-arms that were forced to watch him fall.
His death moved me. I cried. Ugly cried. I do not remember any other fictional representation - in book, movie or television form - that has made me feel that deeply. And every time I listen to the song from his tear-inducing funeral mentioned above on Spotify or You-Tube, I feel it over again. Perhaps not as strongly, but the emotions rise up in me as if I’m seeing it all again for the very first time.
What more could an author or story-teller want?
Kurt Sutter is not afraid to make his audience feel.
I think, as a writer, we all want that. Perhaps not to the extreme, but we want our readers to feel what we’re writing. Feel the depth of despair and the height of joy. Feel the shallow-breath fear and the gulps of relief. Our readers need to understand why their favorite character dies. Why the boy chooses the popular girl instead of the loner. Why the mother cannot bring herself to open the door to her deceased son’s bedroom.
It’s our job to make them understand.
And to be able to do that, we first need to feel it ourselves.
I think it’s important for us, as writers, to be in touch with what moves us. What makes us feel deeply. What scares us. What fills us with joy.
If we feel it, the chances our readers will feel it is exponential.
Sons of Anarchy is currently streaming on Hulu. I will not lie and say it’s an easy show to watch. It’s not. There is bloodshed and heartache and desperation intermingled with joy, levity and love. The writing is top notch, and some of the cast is pretty easy on the eyes, too (I’m looking at you, Tommy Flannagan).
