Two nights ago, Bob and I watched the classic “To Kill a Mockingbird,” for, like, the bazzilionth time. In my opinion, it takes its rightful place on the list of the most beautifully-made films ever. In Harper Lee’s powerful story, Atticus Finch, a small town lawyer in the 1930s deep South is charged with defending a black man against the rape of a white woman. In the process, his children witness not only his love for them, but his compassion for the vulnerable, his ethics, and his unwavering commitment to standing up for what he believes in.
For some reason, in my physical and digital space the last couple of weeks, this film was on other people’s minds, too. At the Whidbey Island Writers’ Conference, as we were discussing the development of our stories’ main characters, a workshop presenter posed these questions: