Writing Emmy

In writing Angels and Blackbirds, the second book of the Apples in the Dark series, my greatest concern was to give Emmy an authentic voice.

Emmy’s understanding of language is limited, and yet she needs to communicate the story to the reader, to show them her viewpoint and even to show the shortcomings of characters (like Rachel) who have more than enough skill with language. Why is this important to me? Because like Rachel in the book, I have been taught many lessons in life by people who our society consistently sidelines: people with learning disabilities.

I first started working alongside people with learning disabilities in late 1979. I was 25 and searching for a new direction in life. I found it. I’ve worked with children, teenagers and adults, at first residentially, and then for most of my career in a day service, trying to meet the wishes and needs of a very diverse group of people.

My character Emmy can’t possibly represent all those people, but she does face challenges that are common to a lot of them, and she has gifts that many of them share. In writing Emmy, I am paying tribute to many people – too many to name – who have influenced my life, just as Emmy influences Rachel, Alice and their friends.

Two other characters in Angels and Blackbirds reflect the diversity of people with learning disabilities – as diverse as any other group of people – Huw and Saffron have completely different personalities.

The easy way for me to write Emmy would have been to carry on as I did in Apples in the Dark: writing alternately from Alice’s and Rachel’s point-of-view and seeing Emmy from the outside. Instead, Alice steps back (she will return in book three) and Emmy shares the narrative with Rachel.

Putting the reader in Emmy’s shoes presented me with a problem. Emmy is 36, and has a lifetime of experience behind her, and yet she has the verbal ability of a young child. As Rachel puts it early in the novel,

Emmy’s wisdom had surprised me before. Her logic had the simplicity and directness a three-year-old would display, but in emotional understanding, she was closer to an impulsive teenager. And yet Emmy was no child. She had thirty-six-years’ worth of accumulated wisdom to draw on. Not that her mother had shown any sign of appreciating it, treating Emmy more like a naughty infant.

To tell Emmy’s part of the story, I gave her a much more coherent inner voice. You can see what she sees, feel what she feels, and yet still witness her struggle to put words together. Emmy’s spoken voice is an amalgam of about six real people who I have worked with at different times – all of whom understand much more than they can express in words.

Emmy’s great gift is empathy: without much verbal understanding, her perception of expression, body language and tone of voice has become greatly enhanced. But empathy can also be her downfall. Other people’s anger and upset can overwhelm her, leading to outbursts when she can no longer control herself. And crucially, she naturally accepts other people’s choices without question, because she knows what they want almost before they speak.

Her progress in the book happens in tiny steps. She discovers that a person called Emmy matters to other people. She has her own life to live, her own choices to make, and a group of people who care for her, take time to understand her, and trust her to be true to herself.

The ways that people with learning disabilities get sidelined are many and various, and some are completely unintentional. I only tackle a few in the novel. We live in a complicated, technological and confusing society, where the rate of change leaves many people behind. I firmly believe that people like Emmy have much to contribute to society, and to our shared humanity, if only we gave thought to the way we include them.

I’ll let Emmy have the last word. She’s in a meeting with her care manager, Michelle. Michelle isn’t exactly doing anything wrong, and she’s certainly on Emmy’s side. But at this stage, Emmy simply isn’t capable of making a choice between places to live. That changes as she grows in confidence.

Michelle nods. ‘Somewhere new could be an adventure. And Emmy, you could still choose to come back here if it doesn’t feel right.’

‘Yeah, me go big venture, come back here.’

‘Are you sure?’ Beth says. ‘Having you here is no problem.’

‘We can do it for six months,’ Michelle says. ‘It might help you choose what you want. Where you want to live.’

‘Me go six months. New friends. Rachel get better long time. Come back here.’

I don’t know six months. I can count six fingers. It sounds long.

‘You could choose, Emmy. Choose to stay there or choose to come back.’

‘Yeah, me choose. Like, choosing’s hard.’

‘You need time to make real choices,’ Michelle says. ‘Why don’t I talk to the people, and then come back and talk to you. You can always change your mind.’

‘Yeah, me think.’

But I know I’m no good at thinking, and I know I’m going to the one, two, three people house. Find new friends. That’s what Michelle wants, like easy. I hope my one, two, three people house has blackbirds. And trees.

 

Illustration: original painting by Louise Ryder.

Emmy under the apple tree