Cathy is having a good day, and it’s indeed a lovely fall day here in central Ohio. We have sunshine and temps in the low seventies. It’s the kind of day we can sometimes be tempted to take for granted. Cathy’s cancer, though, no longer presents us with that option. We cherish every good day we have. As Cathy said to someone at brunch this morning who asked how she was doing, “Good. We’re out and about because we go when I feel up to it.” We have these moments of grace when Cathy’s doing well, and we take advantage of them.

The world, then, sometimes offers us a rest from what troubles us. We can do the same for our characters when we write. We spend so much time thinking about how narratives are driven by some sort of unrest we can neglect to treat our characters with kindness. It’s true that trouble drives a narrative, but a character’s problems by themselves do not a story make. Cathy’s cancer doesn’t define her entire life. In addition to being a cancer patient, she’s a cat-mom and a loving sister, mother, and spouse. A long-time health-care professional, she loves helping others. She’s kind and funny and fierce. She likes feeding the birds and squirrels. She loves watching Guy Fieri on television. I could go on and on about what gives her pleasure, but I think you get the picture. Cancer has tried to take her joy from her, but she’s refused to let that happen. We find our enjoyment where we can.

In Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises, he allows his protagonist, Jake Barnes, a respite from his entanglements in the form of a fishing trip with his pal, Bill Gorton:

We stayed five days at Burguete and had good fishing. The nights were cold and the days were hot, and there was always a breeze even in the heat of the day. It was hot enough so that it felt good to wade in a cold stream, and the sun dried you when you same out and sat on the bank.

While eating lunch, Jake says he wonders what God created first, the chicken or the egg, and Bill says, “How should we know? We should not question. Our stay on earth is not for long. Let us rejoice and believe and give thanks.”

By letting our characters have these opportunities to rejoice and believe and give thanks, we provide a nice contrast to the darkness and the trouble and the unrest that drives our narratives. In our lives, the light and the dark often co-exist, each drawing attention to the other. Try it and see what happens when you give your characters these moments of grace.