Keeping the Reader in Mind By Christina Consolino

Keeping the Reader in Mind

By Christina Consolino

Writing the first draft of my second novel, The Weight We Carry, served as a means of healing for me. Summer of 2015 was onerous and chaotic, filled with multiple health crises for my dad, which eventually led to a diagnosis of Alzheimer’s for my mom. I contemplated writing about the experience, and when National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) rolled around that November, I remember thinking: You might as well go for it. The book can practically write itself.

And it did. That year, my first ever participating in NaNoWriMo, I “won” in two weeks. 

The story of the Raffaelo family, one inspired by my own, flew from my fingertips, and with each page, each chapter, a little bit of the weight perching on my shoulders lifted. As is the case with most books written in only fourteen days, the draft needed a lot of work. But revision is something I enjoy doing, so I knew I’d come back to it. 

Eventually.

True revision didn’t begin until late 2020, long after Mom’s health had declined. My parents had moved to live a half mile from me the year before, and seeing them often (or as often as possible through the window during a global pandemic) reminded me to go back to the draft. So I did, and as the world opened back up in 2021 and visits resumed at my parents’ facility, I had a front-row view of Dad’s reaction to Mom and her diagnosis.

That reaction? Full-on denial. 

He repeatedly asked me questions like, “Is she going to get better?” “Why isn’t she talking to me?” “Why is she sleeping again?” “Why can’t she eat without using her fingers?” “When will your mother stop doing that?” 

That could have been anything: tugging at the lint on her pants, rubbing the tabletop, walking up and down the hallway, folding the linen napkin over and over and over again, biting on the straw in her drink.

Mom’s behavior wasn’t surprising to me, but I wasn’t prepared at all for Dad’s staunch denial. Most of the books I read, fiction or nonfiction, mentioned denial as a normal reaction, but to see it in action was mind blowing. How could this intelligent man not grasp the concept of a brain full of plaques and tangles that would cause a decline in function? Sure, grief had to be gripping him with strong talons, but to hold onto denial until the very last moment?

Because I hadn’t encountered a character like that in my readings, I wanted people to know about it. So when I revised my male protagonist, Frank, I thought about Dad—his denial, his inability to be proactive, his tendency to let sleeping dogs lie. But as I neared the end of the draft, I realized that what readers like, a full character arc that shows growth and redemption, didn’t exist. It didn’t matter that Dad’s character arc was never fully realized. Frank needed one that was, or close to it.

I sat on that thought for a long time. Part of the reason I wrote the book was to give voice to a scenario I hadn’t encountered before. People needed to see how difficult it could be for family members to handle life and everything that goes with it pre- and post-diagnosis. 

In the end, I decided that if the reader saw Frank grow by even an infinitesimal amount, they’d be more content, and the book would end on a more hopeful and positive note. 

Despite my father holding onto a false narrative all the way until my mom passed, Frank listens to his family members, his son-in-law, Will, especially. And he shows the readers with his actions in the last scene, narrated by his wife Angie (known as Her in the chapter headings), that growth. 

For me, the journey in bringing Frank alive was a reminder that though we sometimes begin writing a book for ourselves, and we can write the book we’d like to read, it is a good thing to keep the reader in mind. As author friend Erin Flanagan once told me, “You want to leave your reader full and satisfied and willing to come back for more.” And I hope the finished product does just that.

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Christina is the author of REWRITE THE STARS and THE WEIGHT WE CARRY and co-author of HISTORIC PHOTOS OF UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN. Her work revolves mainly around family, marriage, relationships, and physical or mental health issues. She can be found most days running, reading, writing, teaching, or sitting with a warm cup of coffee.

Find out more about Christina on her website https://christinaconsolino.com/

THE WEIGHT WE CARRY

Marissa Raffaelo-Moretta is used to shouldering the burden. As the middle child, she’s played the mediator role for longer than she cares to admit. As a mother, she’s taken on the exhausting task of primary caregiver. And as a daughter and nurse practitioner, she’s spent her adult life being responsible for her parents’ physical and mental health.

When her stubborn and impulsive father, Frank, falls and refuses to stay at rehab, she and her brothers bring him home, and Marissa upends her life: she temporarily moves into her parents’ house, which takes precious time away from her two sons and jeopardizes her job. Soon, Marissa recognizes that life as they’ve all known it is about to change: while Frank’s ineffective legs are worrisome, her mother Angie’s memory issues might be a more urgent dilemma.

A heartbreaking and emotional story of the toll that health crises can have on an entire family, The Weight We Carry reminds us of the fine line between reliance and independence, tending and mothering, and love and obligation.

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Category: On Writing