GUEST POST: AMY GILES, AUTHOR OF THAT NIGHT
When a
young person dies, whether in an accident or from an illness, an entire
community grieves. Maybe the town plants a tree in his honor, or the school
establishes a scholarship in her name, small and grand gestures designed to
allow the memory of the deceased to live on. But what happens to a community
when gun violence claims enough young lives to fill a classroom in a matter of
seconds? This should be the premise for a dystopian novel, but sadly it’s a
story rooted in reality and the idea behind my contemporary young adult novel, That Night.
It’s no
big secret that America has a gun problem. More than
30,000 men, women, and children are killed with guns each year in the United
States.[1] According
to the Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence, 342 people are
shot every day in America.[2] But it’s the mass shootings, the
ones with the greatest loss of life, that get the most media attention. And do
they ever get attention. Logos and haunting melodies plaster the airwaves
almost immediately, as if they’ve been “in the can,” designed and pre-recorded,
waiting for the next massacre. Once the story runs its course after a few days,
the news crews pick up their gear and move on. But how is that the end of the
story? For the survivors of that shooting, it’s only the beginning. They may
have walked away from a mass shooting, physically unscathed, but they’ll no
doubt face a lifetime of trauma from the event. That Night explores how the repercussions of gun violence extend well
beyond the reach of a bullet.
Thanks
to social media and the twenty-four hour news channels, teens thousands of
miles away from a shooting get to experience the trauma of gun violence almost
first hand. Mass shootings and the fear of a mass shooting have taken a
psychological toll on teens. It’s the unpredictable nature of the crime that’s
most terrifying. People are targeted not for something they did, but for where
they happen to be at that moment, at school, a concert, a movie theater. Their
shattered sense of safety is why nearly sixty percent of all high school
students fear someone will come to their school or community with a gun some
day.[3]
Because the
constant threat of terror is already so damaging to the mental health of
today’s teens, That Night does not
focus on the violence of a mass shooting, but on the loss and grief in the
aftermath as well as the hope and healing. The story begins a year after a mass
shooting claimed eighteen lives in a movie theater. Lucas struggles with the
guilt of knowing his older brother, the football star with a promising future,
died by selflessly throwing himself on top of Lucas to save him. Jess feels
isolated, having lost not just her brother that night, but also her best friend
who is now across the country in a special school that specializes in trauma. Their
families and friends, the entire community, are all affected by the tragedy;
everywhere they turn, they see it in someone’s eyes. Reminders of that night,
memories of the victims and the violence.
In
writing this story, I wanted to steer clear of sensationalizing the violence.
It’s already too prevalent in our every day and I did not want to give a weapon
or a murderer any more attention that they already receive. The challenge was
walking the fine line between representing the trauma the survivors endured as
accurately as possible without actually painting a picture of the graphic
violence. In the first draft, however, I did include scenes of what happened
that night at the Balcony. But those pages were for my eyes only, so I could
write from both Jess and Lucas’s perspectives knowing the trauma and burden they
carried with them every day. And once the first draft was complete, I deleted those
scenes. Not because I don’t have faith in teenagers’ ability to read difficult
subject matters. Quite the opposite. I believe that teens need honest books
that reflect not just what’s happening in the real world, but what’s also
happening in their world. But when it
came to writing about gun violence, I chose to omit the gritty details. There’s
already too much terror surrounding this topic; I didn’t want to be complicit
in fueling that fear.
So
instead of focusing on the violence, I addressed the repercussions. The
embalmed bedrooms, untouched since the tragedy. The retainer in the medicine
cabinet a year later. The fiancée who wears the whisper of a diamond on her
finger, a promise of a future together that was cut short. A daughter who has
to fend for herself when her mother is too depressed to get out of bed. A son
who can’t shake the feeling that the universe made a mistake and took the wrong
brother.
But That Night is also about the redemptive
power of love. At first, Lucas has misgivings about working with Jess at their
part-time job together. With her presence come the constant reminders of that
night. But over time, they learn to trust each other and become friends. They discover
that their shared experiences actually help each other heal. Who else could
possibly understand the range of emotions Lucas experiences every day, except
for someone who is going through it herself? And on their road to recovery,
they find love.
In
fiction, we can write a happy ending to even the most tragic stories. In real
life, we have to work harder. Let’s help make #neveragain the next happily ever
after.
[1] Amnesty International.
www.amnestyusa.org/issues/gun-violence
[2] In murders, assaults,
suicides & suicide attempts, unintentional shootings, and police
intervention. http://www.bradycampaign.org/key-gun-violence-statistics
[3] Stephen Wu, et al., “2013 Hamilton College Youth Poll:
Attitudes Towards Gun Control and School
Violence,” Knowledge
Networks and Hamilton College, December 2013, https://www.hamilton.
edu/news/polls/gun-control-and-school-violence.
Keep up with Amy Giles here:
Website: http://amygiles.net
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/amygilesauthor
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/amysgiles/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AmySGiles
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