It's amazing how certain scenes or quotes from movies and books can stick with you for decades. A line which may hold so much meaning to one person could be irrelevant and forgettable to another.
And sometimes, a quote takes on a different meaning with a shifting perspective.
When I was a little girl, I loved the movie The Last Unicorn. To me, the unicorn was the most pure and beautiful creature I'd ever seen. She was lonely and seeking, just like me. She was taken advantage of, just like me. I can recite many quotes from her perilous journey to this day, even though many scenes in the film frightened me to the point of nightmares. One scene remains so vivid in my mind, in color and in mood, I don't believe I'll ever forget it. A character unleashes a lifetime of longing and anguish in one simple quote: "Where have you been?"
For those who are unfamiliar with the film, a unicorn learns she's the only one of her kind left and journeys across the world to find the others. Along the way, she meets those who hunt her, trap her, and those who join her quest. One such character is Molly Grue.
Molly Grue is somewhere between thirty and forty with a ragged clothes and matching wild hair. She lives with bandits in the woods and cooks their rat soup. She's a rough and tumble lady who needs no rescuing, but she's far from happy or fulfilled.
Upon meeting the unicorn, Molly's stunned into silence, then she cries out, "Where have you been?"
As a child, this scene confused me. I couldn't understand why Molly was mad other than missing out on meeting a unicorn sooner. If they were real, I would have wanted to see one as soon as possible, too.
When I witnessed this scene again with adult eyes, it laid my heart open. Picture this:
You're a single woman living in the woods. Dishonest men surround you in a time when most women your age are married with at least one child. Your ratty hair matches your clothes, and you sleep on the ground. The men touch you without your permission. Even though you brush them off, they don't respect you.
You don't respect you.
Then, a mythical animal known to approach only the purest young girls steps into your path. You can't hide your situation from this creature. At first, you're shocked with the hope that maybe your life isn't as vile as you think. But you know better. You yell in anger, accusing the creature of missing the window of your purity.
"Where were you twenty years ago? Ten years ago? Where were you when I was new? When I was one of those innocent young maidens you'd always come to? How dare you...how dare you come to me now?"
But your anger turns inward.
"When I am this?"
It was all you. All the choices you made defiled you from your dream to see a unicorn, and only the last unicorn in the world comes to you out of desperation. You break down and cry, absorbing the truth of your mistakes...but the unicorn doesn't judge you. It comforts you.
In my opinion, this scene is a brilliant example of storytelling. The deeper meaning is lost on children, but adults know the pain of Molly's regret and shame. If the writing had been more blatant, the scene would lose all its meaning. This is part of the delicate balance of saying enough without overstating.
Molly didn't yell, "I'm not a maiden anymore. I'm impure and unworthy of being in your presence." But that's exactly what she meant.
So often when I write, I'm unsure if I'm striking that balance of giving my readers "just enough" to feel a character's emotion without being too blatant. "Molly was angry and sad at the same time" doesn't cut it. The scene was shown vividly in her expressions and shifting emotions over the course of about fifteen seconds.
Nothing makes me happier than when a critique partner figures out where my novel's breadcrumbs are leading just before a big reveal. That means I've done my job well—strategically placed enough tidbits to bloom in a reader's imagination. It's a constant struggle, and I won't get it right all the time. So often, when I go back through a first draft to brainstorm, I find areas where I can pump in some of this emotional impact. In many cases, I get there after a second or third draft.
This only happens when I keep pushing, keep digging into scenes and characters until the emotional core surfaces. It won't ever be easy, but I enjoy that struggle.
I still hope to get published someday, if that's what God has for this talent he gave me, but I can only hope a scene or character's quote will stick out in a future reader's mind like this scene does for me. Even better if it gives them hope and encouragement.
Keep on smilin'!
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