Page 20 of A Storybook Wedding

Nate pauses, takes a breath, and puts on the fakest smile I have ever seen on a man in my life. “Well, since this is intended to be a personal activity, I would be happy to share that my success as an author has definitely contributed to the development of my character over time, but I don’t think it’s the sole factor.”

“Then what is?” she counters.

Nate shrugs. “It’s not just one thing. It’s been a series of events.”

“Okay, Mr. Ellis. Riddle me this. How can you ask our fledgling writers here to choose just one moment and characterize it as the moment that defines their personal arc? How can you expect them to do something that you yourself are unable to do?”

“This is just an exercise, Alice. Real character arc doesn’t happen in a vacuum.”

I’m not sure what possesses me at this exact moment, but before I can stop myself, I am raising my hand. Nate looks at me and nods his head.

“I’d like to share,” I say in a voice bolder than one who spent six of the past twenty-four hours puking her guts out should have.

His face shifts the tiniest bit from exasperation to relief, like he’s narrowly avoiding heart palpitations.

“My ex-boyfriend married my sister,” I overshare loudly. “And as I was walking down the aisle as her bridesmaid, I realized I wanted to pursue my dream of becoming a published author instead of pursuing my family’s dream of me becoming a wife and popping out a bunch of kids. It was a single moment, and I think it resulted in a huge character arc,” I say in a moment of verbal vomit (a welcome contrast from my earlier bout of real vomit).

In response to this information, I hear some very low murmuring from the audience, but I choose to ignore it. Nate Ellis eyeballs me curiously. Then Dillon Norway pipes up. “That would make a great novel,” he says.

That would make a great novel, I realize.

Dillon Norway continues. “I also think it’s an excellent example of how there’s not one single right answer. Still, I appreciate the heated discussion. Who else would like to share?”

Others tentatively raise their hands, and once it’s clear that there are plenty of people who believe that character arc can be borne from a solitary plot twist, Douchebag Devereaux quietly leaves the room. I only know this because I can see Nate’s face change. Students engage in meaningful discussions, he offers a few more examples, and the session comes to a close.

Afterward, some students linger, and some try to approach him for sidebar conversations. I pack up my backpack and hoist it onto my shoulders.

“CJ!” I hear as I walk toward the exit. “Cecily!” the voice says again.

I turn around. Nate is waving me over.

“Stick around for a sec, please?”

I try to make a smooth about-face, but the tortoise shell on my back bonks into a few fellow MFAers. I work my way back to the front of the room, and the Nate Ellis fan club begrudgingly dissipates.

He lowers his voice when he speaks to me. “Thank you for doing that,” he says.

“Doing what?”

“Shutting her down like that with your god-awful story.”

I shrug. “No worries. I was just trying to save you from the same humiliation I went through.”

“Huh?”

“In workshop. When they all ripped me to shreds,” I explain. “I don’t know. I don’t like watching nice people be attacked for no good reason.”

He nods. “Well, really, thank you. I appreciate what you did.”

“My pleasure.”

“Did that really happen to you? That thing with your sister?”

“It did.”

“Wow. I’m sorry. I guess that was what you meant.”

“Huh?”

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