Elizabeth “Lizzie” McKean
The Swan Song
The saddest truth is realising you have fallen madly in love with what can never be.
Flexible: may change depending on verse
Female | “Straight” | FC: Lisa Teige
+ Empathetic, Generous, Intuitive, Kind, Loyal, Sociable
- Clumsy, Conflict-Averse, Procrastinating, Resentful, Unorganized, Withdrawn
MBTI: INFP (”The Mediator”)
Moral Alignment: Lawful Good (”The Crusader”)
Example Occupations: Publicist, Writer, Student
Likes: lightning storms, camping, hiking, jelly doughnuts, her pet corn snake Baby, thai food, birds, climbing the giant rocks in Central Park, 60s classic rock (Hall & Oates, the Beatles, Simon & Garfunkel), anything deep fried, Meg Ryan movies, reading a good historical fiction novel in Bryant Park, the Mets (or any other underdog), philosophical or theoretical conversations (”What do you think happens when we die?”)
Dislikes: when others’ luck or talent outshines someone’s (her) work ethic, humidity, bullies, obnoxious know-it-alls, horror movies
Daughter to Kathleen and Grant McKean, the latter an Oscar-nominated director.
Cousin to critically-acclaimed actress Annona Bright, who was born a year after her. Annona is the daughter of indie director Linda McKean-Bright and washed-up actor Sam Bright.
Early Years: Their parents thought having girls a year apart would make them the best of friends--and perhaps, at first, they were right. But slowly, playground memories and swing set promises faded as Annona got more involved in her work.
At first, Lizzie didn't really mind being looked over for the spotlight. She'd never been a person for center stage, and suffered from awful stage fright, even in groups. She had been born with two left feet, and even though her mother tried everything--from ballet and tap, to hip hop and jazz--it just never seemed to stick. Even if she memorized the moves, put her limbs in the right places, she seemed to lack that stage presence, the star quality that differentiated a graceful dancer from a fumbling quarterback. If Annona was a silky black cat, Lizzie was an ugly, wrinkly pug, with eyes too big for its head and noisy breathing problems.
Athlete: At the age of five, she joined her first softball team. She blossomed in the social aspect of it, the camaraderie and teamwork. She was pretty personable and got along well with the other kids, but her mother scowled at the everpresent grass stains on her jeans and dirt smudged on her cheeks. When she entered second grade, Lizzie's mom enrolled her in a tumbling class. Lizzie liked this, too, even if it was a little lonely--more competitive and less team-oriented than softball. Still, gymnastics grew into something that she was able to stick the landing to. She liked being able to get out her aggression on the parallel bars, to sink into the pool of cubed foam at the bottom when her arms couldn't take the strain anymore. It was also something she was pretty good at. But over time, it grew to be too much.
Teens: By the time she reached eighth grade, she was practicing five days a week, four hours a day, and all other areas of her life suffered. Weekends were all about schoolwork, catching up on missed assignments she’d been too exhausted to handle during the week. She had no time for friends--not that she had time to make any to begin with. Her mother, surely, didn't mind--her husband had fully buried himself in his work, gone for 14+ hours a day, six--sometimes seven--days a week. This was the thing Kathleen could delve into. But it became too much for Lizzie, became her identity as much as directing had become her dad's, and she realized she didn't want this to be her personality. She never liked having all eyes on her when she was on the beam. The spotlight was too bright. It was getting harder to swallow back the fear of missing out: the birthday parties, the (lack of) family vacations, the first kisses, the best-friendships. The everything.
Before she entered high school, she told her mother she wanted to quit. The stress of having to balance schoolwork and gymnastics, the lack of time to do anything else, was becoming too much--not to mention the injuries were becoming more frequent, a sprained ankle or wrist here and there turned into something being fractured more often than not. What could she have done with all that time spent just trying to master a double back handspring? What else was there to life? Her mother grieved, both the loss of a community of parents she had come to know, the success of her daughter, and the hobby to focus on. Their relationship never really went back to how it was after that, and despite all of the free time to make new friends, Lizzie never felt more alone.
Invisible: A shadow in faded light, Lizzie felt invisible. In gymnastics, her mother would always brag about her, was always there to applaud when she landed that full twist or perfected that tsuk. But now, it was like she didn’t exist. Not that her mother was mad at her--not that she kept a petty grudge (or did she?)--but she realized gymnastics had been as much of her mother’s hobby as it was hers. Without that shared thread, they had nothing in common. Her dad was still gone all the time, and when he was home between filmings, he was usually working on a passion project. It wasn’t unusual for him to brag about Annona at dinner, much like her mother used to do about her. Had she made a mistake, giving up gymnastics? Her mother reminded her it wasn’t too late to go back, but it was. The giant calluses on her palms were finally beginning to heal. She was getting used to a life without some kind of brace on her leg. Once she stopped that momentum, the thought of going back was simply too exhausting.
A New Quest: With a life of an athlete behind her, she is now trying to find herself, without the security blanket of gymnastics to create a mold. Who is she? She still isn’t sure, but she’s going to find out.
