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Rising Above it All: How Rambo's Creator Earned His Pilot's License
An
article by
David
Morrell, Vanguard
Press; July 2009;$25.95US/$32.95CAN; 978-1-59315-537-7 Readers familiar with my fiction know how much I love doing research. For Testament, I enrolled in an outdoor wilderness survival course and lived above timberline in the Wyoming mountains for 30 days. For The Protector, I spent a week at the Bill Scott raceway in West Virginia, learning offensive-defensive driving maneuvers, such as the 180-degree spins you see in the movies. I once broke my collarbone in a two-day knife-fighting class designed for military and law enforcement personnel. Two years ago, I began the longest research project of my career.
I was preparing to write a novel called The Shimmer, a fictional dramatization of the mysterious
lights that appear on many nights outside the small town of Marfa in
west Texas. When the first settlers passed through that area in the
1800s, they saw the lights, and people have been drawn to those lights
ever since, including James Dean who became fascinated by them when
he filmed his final movie Giant near Marfa in 1955.
The lights float, bob, and weave. They combine and change colors.
They seem far away and yet so close that people think they can reach
out and touch them. In the 1970s, the citizens of Marfa organized what
they called a Ghost Light Hunt and pursued the lights, using horses,
vehicles, and an airplane, but the lights had no difficulty eluding
them.
Because an airplane was used, I decided to include one in The
Shimmer. I'd never
written about a pilot, and the idea of trying something new always appeals
to me. The dramatic possibilities were intriguing. But a minute's thought
warned me about the monumental task I was planning. As a novelist version
of a Method actor, I couldn't just cram an airplane into my novel. First,
I would need to learn how airplanes worked so that real pilots wouldn't
be annoyed by inaccuracies. Real pilots. That's when I realized that
it wouldn't be enough to learn how airplanes worked. I would need to
take pilot training.
I live in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Our small airport has a flight school:
Sierra Aviation. I made an appointment with one of the instructors,
Larry Haight, who took me up in a Cessna 172 on what's called a "discovery"
flight. The idea was to "discover" whether I enjoyed the sensation of
being in the cockpit and peering several thousand feet down at the ground.
Flying in a small aircraft is a much more immediate and visceral experience
than sitting in the cabin of a commercial airliner. Even in a Cessna,
the canopy is huge compared to the tiny windows on an airliner. The
horizon stretches forever.
It turned out that I more than enjoyed the experience. It was exhilarating
and fulfilling. I realized that this was something I wanted to do not
only for research but also to broaden my life. As a consequence, I eventually
earned my private pilot's license and bought a 2003 172SP. The plane
was based near Dallas, and my longest cross-country flight to date (600
miles) involved piloting it from there to Santa Fe. Truly, nothing can
equal controlling an aircraft, making it do safely whatever I want while
seeing the world as if I were an eagle.
In The Shimmer,
I wanted the main character's attitude toward flying ("getting above
it all") to help develop the book's theme. The following passage shows
what I mean. You only need to know that Dan Page is a police officer.
When I started pilot training, I figured that one day I'd be relaxing
in the sky, listening to an iPod and glancing dreamily around. As we
learn in this section, the actuality is quite different and more substantial.
"Non-pilots often assumed that the appeal of flying involved appreciating
the scenery. But Page had become a pilot because he enjoyed the sensation
of moving in three dimensions. The truth was that maintaining altitude
and speed while staying on course, monitoring radio transmissions, and
comparing a sectional map to actual features on the ground required
so much concentration that a pilot had little time for sightseeing.
"There was another element to flying, though. It helped Page not
to think about the terrible pain people inflicted on one another. He'd
seen too many lives destroyed by guns, knives, beer bottles, screwdrivers,
baseball bats, and even a nail gun. Six months earlier, he'd been the
first officer to arrive at the scene of a car accident in which a drunken
driver had hit an oncoming vehicle and killed five children along with
the woman who was taking them to a birthday party. There'd been so much
blood that Page still had nightmares about it.
"His friends thought he was joking when he said that the reward of
flying was 'getting above it all,' but he was serious. The various activities
involved in controlling an aircraft shut out what he was determined
not to remember.
"That helped Page now. His confusion, his urgency, his need to have
answers -- on the ground, these emotions had thrown him off balance,
but once he was in the air, the discipline of controlling the Cessna
forced him to feel as level as the aircraft. In the calm sky, amid the
monotonous, muffled drone of the engine, the plane created a floating
sensation. He welcomed it yet couldn't help dreading what he might discover
on the ground. "
At one point a character asks Page, how high he intends to fly.
"Enough to get above everything," he answers.
"Sounds like the way to run a life."
That's an important lesson I learned from flying.
©2009 David Morrell, author of The Shimmer Author
David Morrell, author of The Shimmer, is the award-winning author of numerous New York Times bestsellers, including Creepers and Scavenger. Co-founder of the International Thriller Writers organization and author of the classic Brotherhood of the Rose spy trilogy, Morrell is considered by many to be the father of the modern action novel For more information please visit www.davidmorrell.net Learn more about The Shimmer at www.shimmerbook.com
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