Representation, Point-of-View and How to Fix Blockbusters

WordMaster

             One of the most common responses to women who criticize the lack of prominent, well-written female superheroes is something along the lines of: “Who cares if the main character is a man, as long as the movie is good?” Which is technically true, since movies like Citizen Kane and The Lord of the Rings aren’t any less great for revolving around rich white men (or, in the case of the latter, hobbits), and despite the growing dissatisfaction with TV antiheroes, Tony Soprano, Don Draper and Walter White will always be complex, fascinating characters.

             But as much as some people try their damnedest to ignore it or to dismiss it as irrelevant, media representation is a big deal. Consider the explanations studios use to defend their reluctance to release a mainstream superhero movie headlined by a woman:

1)      Women can’t carry movies (ahem, Sandra Bullock says hi and go fuck yourself).

2)      Women don’t go to see genre movies (indeed, every single person who’s ever gone to any sci-fi, fantasy, action or horror movie is a white male between the ages of 12-25).

3)      Catwoman and Elektra sucked, so clearly, female superhero movies just inherently suck (never mind that Daredevil and X-Men Origins: Wolverine, among others, also sucked).

4)      It’s too big of a risk (after all, The Hunger Games was a major box office bomb – almost as bad as John Carter!).

5)      There aren’t many actresses who are kick-ass enough to pull off action roles (oh, please).

            So, yes, it matters a lot. It matters because, 27 years after Sigourney Weaver vanquished a colony of aliens in James Cameron’s adrenaline-charged action classic, we shouldn’t have to tolerate these bullshit excuses anymore. It matters because we live in a world where a feature-length, live-action blockbuster centered on Aquaman seems less far-fetched than one with Wonder Woman, where we have to struggle to get Black Widow her own solo project, yet Marvel can make a movie containing a CGI raccoon with a freaking rocket launcher and no one bats an eye. It matters because at one point this year, the D.C. metropolitan area had a whopping 25 screenings of movies about women. It matters because whenever a non-white actor is cast in an even moderately high-profile role, Internet message boards are flooded with commenters fuming about how the PC police are destroying the integrity of their beloved franchise with “lazy” attempts to “diversify” (apparently, the continuity of a fictional universe matters more than any desire to break down decades of institutionalized prejudice).

Let’s not forget that time when so-called “fans” of The Hunger Games spewed racist complaints about a character that was explicitly written as black in the source material.

           Perhaps most importantly, though, it matters because, as any English teacher will tell you, point- of-view is a vital part of storytelling, if not the most vital part. After all, at their core, stories are about the journeys of characters, their efforts to complete a task, satisfy a desire or overcome an obstacle; who those characters are defines the story’s direction, tone, pacing, ideology, everything. You can’t just choose any random character to be your protagonist, and you can’t change your protagonist without completely changing the story.

How to Breathe Life into a Fictional Character

WordMaster

There is a debate that rages among writers, both amateur and professional, over the importance of plot versus character. Personally, I don’t think one is inherently more essential than the other (they’re equally indispensable elements of any story), but I’ll admit that I’m somewhat partial toward characters, if only because the act of creating fictional people that I inevitably find more interesting than anyone I’ve met in real life has always been one of my favorite parts of writing. Besides, for me, plot tends to be: people talk + random arguments + a big blur of shit happening that I’ll figure out later.

Anyway, not that I’m a genius with character development or anything, but here is some advice that you might want to heed when populating your novel/short story/script/fan fic/whatever:

Know your characters. This one seems pretty obvious, but it’s also probably the hardest aspect of character development and perhaps even writing in general. Anyone can just throw a bunch of adjectives together and call it a character, but a good writer can delve into a character’s mind and recite obscure details about his backstory and inner psychology like a therapist analyzing his patient. If someone asks you what your main character did on her 10^th birthday, you better be able come up with an answer. Even if you never end up using that particular piece of info in your story, it’s always good to be aware of it, just in case. Who knows? That one obscure, seemingly trivial detail could unlock entirely new doors for your character and shed light on some shadowy corner that you never would have seen otherwise. Besides, if you’re anything like me, creating characters is like wandering through a labyrinth: it’s complicated and maybe even frustrating at times, but it’s addictive as hell, and each turn brings with it a giddy rush of realization that there’s still more left to discover.  I could spend hours, days, weeks, exploring my characters and digging up information about their lives and personalities, their highest hopes and deepest, darkest secrets, wondering what makes them unhappy (advice-inside-advice: happy characters are boring characters) and what kind of music they listen to. I do it partly because it distracts me from actually writing my story, but I also do it because it’s fun and it lets my imagination soar.

Say What? Writing Dialogue 101

CE Jenkins

Speech is what happens when two people get together and eventually feel too uncomfortable to stand around in silence. More romantically, it’s a way for people to connect and understand each other. But I’m not here to talk about conversations with real human beings; I’m here to teach you how to write fake ones. I can hardly make it through a real discussion without jumping out the window or swallowing my own tongue. I’m the kind of person who says “Good morning” at 6pm, and who makes loud, painfully unfunny jokes before laughing manically and diving into the nearest book. In general, I consider getting through any social interaction without physical harm or psychological trauma to be a raging success. I would literally chop off my own hand to provide a conversation topic if the silence goes on for too long.

Even a computer program questions my social skills.

We’ll start by tackling the snarly conundrum that is human speech by breaking it down into nice, organized, easy-to-understand categories. Haha, just kidding. We’re going to roll around in the scrambled word-discharge from my brain and hope that something sticks. Now roll, damnit! Roll!

5 Basic Traits Every Writer Needs

CE Jenkins

             Motivational post time! 

             It’s impossible to pin down exactly what it takes to become the next name on a Barnes & Noble bookshelf. Being good at writing isn't always one of them—wow, already my cynicism wins out. Sorry guys, I'm really not good at this whole motivation thing. Grim realities aside, there are some things that you as a person should possess in order to improve your writing. Changing every facet of your being to fit this model won't necessarily get you published, but I guarantee it won't hurt. So let the mind-molding begin!

CRASH! BANG! POW! Pfft.

CE Jenkins

  

     Fight scenes are hard to write, and if done badly, are pretty hard to read as well. There are a lot of common pitfalls for writers to skewer themselves on, and some simple tricks that are often ignored. I don’t claim to be an expert on any kind of combat that doesn’t involve a sixer of Code Red and a high speed internet connection, but few can match my skills at nitpicking and disgruntle-ry. So here goes my list of fight tropes, good and otherwise.

Whats In a Name? More Than You'd Think...

 CE Jenkins

           I suck at naming characters. Which is ironic, because I’m working on at least 2 long-term stories which will require me to come up with unique naming conventions for multiple societies, all from scratch. Yay me. But because I apparently hate myself and want to do as much work as possible, I’ve been forced to get friendly with a lot of tips and tidbits which have helped me out over the arduous process of storycrafting, and I’m going to lay ‘em down now.

Names are important. So it turns out Shakespeare didn’t know jack shit. Although names might seem like simple labels for telling people apart, they can be useful tools for establishing character on a first impression. Think about it: if you read the names “Blinnie” and “Warchester”, chances are you have two completely different mental images of them based on the sound of their name alone. This isn’t coincidental, and should be exploited to the full extent of your ability. Also I was joking about the Shakespeare thing; please don’t let his angry ghost rise up and suck my brains out through my eyeballs. I’m sure that would give good ‘ole Edgar Allen’s ghost a boner. A Poener, if you will. (And thus, the comedy on this blog stoops to a whole new low. I regret nothing.)

A Perfect Kind of Ending

We have a new guest poster today, my good friend StarGazer, who will give us a talking to about endings. 

***THAR BE SPOILERS AHEAD***

            For the following:

Seinfeld

Casablanca

The Lord of the Rings

War of the Worlds (2005)

The Invention of Lying

            One of the most difficult parts about writing a story is figuring out how to just end the damn thing. Endings can make or break a story. The perfect ending is like finding one last present beneath the Christmas tree and discovering that it’s the exact thing you wanted. However, a cheap or disappointing ending will make your audience scream bloody murder.

Just ask these guys.

            The most vital function of an ending is to provide the characters and audience with a resolution. That doesn’t mean you have to wrap everything up in a nice, tidy bow. In fact, more often than not, it’s better to allow for some messiness and loose ends, because unless you’re writing a sitcom or a Disney-fied children’s fairy tale, that happily-ever-after shit ain’t gonna fly. At the same time, an ending has to actually feel like, you know, an ending. You can’t just cut the story off whenever you feel like it because you were too lazy to find a real conclusion. Even books that are part of a larger series and serialized TV shows have smaller arcs within the larger framework that are fulfilled before they can progress to the next phase of the story.

So, why is it so hard to come up with a good ending? Well, the long and short of it is that by the time the reader reaches the end of your story, he will – or should – care about what happens. He has invested time, money, energy and, most importantly, his emotional wellbeing into the work and characters. It’s the writer’s job to reward him for his dedication and trust. Readers expect a payoff.

This creates two potential problems. The first lies wholly with the writer. Payoff means more than simply going from point A to point B and capping off the plot. The ending of Casablanca was satisfying not because we find out who Ilsa ultimately ends up with or because she and Victor finally leave Casablanca, but because all of the characters have grown and changed; they have each found a sense of purpose, an inner balance, and because we care about them as people, so have we. This is why The Lord of the Rings doesn’t just end with Gollum falling with the Ring into Mount Doom. Both Tolkien and Jackson understood that it was never really about whether or not they destroyed the Ring and defeated Sauron (guess what? they do!) and that the main conflict was really within the characters themselves, in seeing how this mission would affect them and their surroundings. We want to know what sort of impact the story had on the characters, to see Frodo and co. grapple with the consequences of their actions.

Now, this doesn’t mean that you have to end every story with a rambling laundry list of exactly what happens to all your characters, or that you have to completely wrap up all the subplots and answer every minor question, because God knows few things are more boring than pages of “where are they now?” summaries. But you want to make sure you follow through on the conflicts and arcs you’ve created. The characters – and the readers – should be in a different place from where they started, metaphorically speaking.

            The second problem with audience investment is that not every reader will have the same idea of where the plot and characters should go, and for the less flexible-minded among us, if that conclusion diverts from our imagined one, it will be unsatisfying, even enraging. Perhaps the best example of this is Lost. Possibly the most polarizing series finale since The Sopranos, the ending for Lost divided fans firmly into Love It and Hate It camps with few people falling in between. Those who found the conclusion cathartic or gratifying on some level followed the show for its characters and the relationships that developed throughout its run, while those who liked the show for its mythology and spent hours theorizing and making predictions were more than likely underwhelmed.

In other words, people become invested in a story for different reasons and have different expectations. Trying to cater to every viewpoint and tailoring a story based on the whims of its fans or based on what you think other people want to see happen is a recipe for disaster. Chances are, you know your characters and have a better feel for the narrative than anyone else. Write the story you want to see. Some people may hate it, others may love it, but at least you know you’ll be happy.

            Another important thing to remember when devising an ending is to make sure that everything leading up to it matters. Nothing is more infuriating than reaching the end of an intense, riveting story filled with struggles and emotional pain and having the author erase all of that with one stroke of her pen. The worst five words to end any story ever? And then she woke up. Also, this:

     

Robbie: 1

Logic and Audience: 0

However you decide to end your story, just remember that it should, in some way, be a consequence of everything that happened before it. It’s a cliché, but it really is the journey that matters, not the destination. Let the hardships and changes your characters have experienced resonate in how those issues are resolved, whether they are obstacles that have been overcome or ones that overwhelm.

            Following a similar train of thought, your ending should feel inevitable. But, before we go anywhere, know that inevitable does NOT mean predictable. Because endings, by their very definition, are the outcomes of the stories surrounding them, they should feel natural and organic, not tacked-on or out-of-left-field. The reader should walk away with the sense that it couldn’t have ended any other way. Try as you might, it’s impossible to imagine Ilsa choosing Rick over Victor, not just because it’s become such an iconic ending, but because it brought the characters to their proper conclusions and made sense in the context of the film’s messages and themes; anything else would’ve felt dissatisfying.

            However, this is not the same thing as simply choosing an ending because it fits with an audience’s preconceived notions about how this type of story is supposed to end. Don’t just follow the template. A good ending works because it meets the demands of those specific characters, not because it fulfills a pre-established plot structure. I mean, how often have you gone into a movie or read a book that spends the first two-thirds building a compelling narrative and complex characters, only to dissolve into a painfully generic final act? There’s no rule that every action movie/thriller has to end in some bombastic shoot-out, yet nine times out of ten, that’s what you get. The guy shouldn’t get the girl just because, well, that’s what always happens, isn’t it? If you’re merely conforming to genre expectations, then it’s going to feel trite and manipulative.

  

 Like this.           

That said, there’s nothing wrong covering well-trod ground and following the traditional route if you’re a skilled enough to keep it fresh and breathe new life into an old formula. Stay true to the tone and characters you’ve established, and keep in mind what the motivations, conflicts and desires driving the story are.

Ultimately, an ending can only be as good as the story supporting it. The ending is only the top of the pyramid, and if the rest of the story doesn’t provide a strong foundation, the whole thing will collapse. Let the conclusion be a natural progression from everything that happened before it.

            And here we are, winding down to the conclusion of this blog post. Perhaps this was all just a bunch of rambling, meandering nonsense, but I hope I was able to provide you with some helpful hints and some thoughts to chew on. Either way, I wish you the best of luck with your novel or whatever you’re working on. Remember, all things have to come to an end someday. I hope yours is a good one.   

References

Seinfeld: link

War of the Worlds: link

Invention of Lying: link

Write By Number

CE Jenkins

          Yes, the title is a pun. I regret nothing.

          Seriously though, I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have an iPod. How did I make an entrance before I could push both double-doors open at the same time with the Lord of the Rings soundtrack playing in the background? Those were dark times. I will admit, I am a music buff in the same way that Gaston was a fine arts buff—anything with a catchy beat is fair game. And some haters might criticize for all the terrible music I listen to, but I’m afraid I can’t hear them over the Prince of Egypt soundtrack blasting in my ears.

          In some ways, writing with music in the background can be a good way to get into the writerly mood. On the other hand, listening to the wrong music for a scene can stop up the tubes faster than a family fourthmeal at Taco Bell. Katy Perry does very little for dramatic deathbed speeches. Trust me on this.

          Other times it’s nice to write in silence, but speaking from the POV of a college student living in a dorm where one false move could punch a hole through the paper screens they call walls, that’s not always an option. Not to mention the fact that sometimes I can’t hear my own thoughts over the sound of my other thoughts talking too loud. For those cases I find throwing on a pair of noise-cancelling headphones and cranking up the tunes is a workable solution.

          So, with that in mind, here are some songs that I personally enjoy listening to while writing certain moods or scenes. Lots of them are from movie soundtracks, which I find especially useful since they often don’t have vocals and instead focus entirely on the feeling of the scene; as a result, in this case I chose songs based on their general sound as opposed to their lyrics.

            Keep in mind that these are my personal picks, and not an objective list. You may like some of them, you may hate all of them; just give a few a listen to see what you think, and hopefully you’ll find something useful. This list is subject to change; if you have your own song to recommend, leave it in the comments and I’ll check it out.

           Action

Good for writing fights, chases, high energy stuff.

·         A.R. Rahman & MIA, O…Saya: link

·         Audioslave, Gasoline: link

·         Joan Jett, Bad Reputation: link

·         Chemical Brothers, Escape 700: link

·         Florence + the Machine, Heartlines: link

·         Deadmau5, Ghosts N Stuff (ft Rob Swire): link

o   Extended Cut: link

·         Lady Gaga, Judas: link

·         Scott Pilgrim vs the World, Threshold: link

·         Metallica, For Whom the Bell Tolls: link

·         Restruct, Change: link

·         The White Stripes, Seven Nation Army (Glitch Mob Remix): link

·         Daft Punk, Derezzed: link

                  Driven

For intense scenes with a slightly slower pace.

·         AWOLNation, Sail: link

·         Florence + the Machine, the Dogs Days Are Over: link.

·         Oh Land, Sun of a Gun: link

·         Johnny Hollow, This Hollow World: link

·         Loreena Mckennitt, Kecharitomene: link

·         Muse, Undisclosed Desires: link

·         Vanessa Carlton, Dark Carnival: link

·         Frou Frou, Holding Out for a Hero: link

·         Birthday Massacre, Pins and Needles: link

·         Bear Mccreary, All Along the Watchtower: link

·         Eminem, Lose Yourself: link

                 Triumphant

Scenes that are generally upbeat, but sometimes with a darker undertone. Yes, I know that description makes no sense. Words are hard.

·         Hugo, 99 Problems: link

·         Per Qualche Dollaro in Più: link

·         How to Train Your Dragon, New Tail: link

·         Johnny Clegg, Brave New World: link

·         MIA, Paper Plaines: link

·         MGMT, Kids: link

·         Muse, Feeling Good: link

·         Jesca Hoop, Tulip: link

·         Jonsi, Sticks & Stones: link

·         Brother Bear, Transformation: link

                Brooding

Songs with a medium pace and a more minor key.

·         Loreena Mckennit, Mystic’s Dream: link

·         Imogen Heap, Canvas: link

·         Shiny Toy Guns, Cold War: link

·         Emiliana Torrini, Gollum’s Song: link

·         The Gravel Road: link

·         Lisbeth Scott, Where: link

·         District 9: link

·         Mountains of Thunder: link

                Romantic

It's like viagra for the written word!

·         Beyonce, Halo: link

·         The Beatles, Hello Goodbye: link

·         Queen, Somebody to Love: link

·         Barry Manilow, Can’t Smile Without You: link

·         The Cranberries, Dreams: link

·         Jason Mraz, Plain Jane: link

·         American Mouth, Flightless Bird: link

·         James Horner & Celine Dion, My Heart Will Go On: link

                Traveling

These songs contain a lot of motion and a steady rhythm that goes well with writing travel scenes. I threw in a couple with more exotic sounds as well.

·         Rusted Root, Send Me On My Way: link

·         The Proclaimers, I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles): link

·         Secret of Kells, Epicy: link

·         Two Mules For Sister Sara: link

·         Loreena Mckennitt, Marco Polo: link

·         Lebo M, I Want to See the Moon: link

·         Sanctuary Soundtrack: link

                Peaceful

For those moments when your character isn’t jumping off the roof of a building.

·         Milagres, Glowing Mouth: link

·         The Village, Race to Resting Rock: link

·         Concerning Hobbits: link

·         Enya, One by One: link

·         Horse Feathers, Thistled Spring: link

·         How to Train Your Dragon, Romantic Flight: link

·         Jesca Hoop, Enemy: link

               Poignant

Slower, quieter songs. Good for scenes of death, loss, or goodbyes.

·         Black Beauty Theme: link

·         The Chronicles of Narnia, Evacuating London: link

·         Dido & A.R. Rahman, If I Rise: link

·         Gary Jules, Mad World: link

·         Pan’s Labyrinth Lullaby (instrumental): link

·         Annie Lennox, Into the West: link

·         Loreena Mckennitt, Full Circle: link

·         Dido, The Day Before the Day: link

·         The Mighty Rio Grande, This Will Destroy You: link

·         Fullmetal Alchemist OST, Bratja: link

Holy shit, that got a lot longer than expected. This is why I shouldn’t be allowed to start listing things. 

Author Unknown

CE Jenkins

          Sometimes on my travels through the internet I come across something seemingly innocent that, through a sort of Ruub-Goldberg thought process of one idea pinwheeling into another, makes me pace back and forth and rant at my teddy bears for an hour and a half. But after a cooldown period of silent fuming and flash games, I think I’ve gotten to the point where I can coherently express my ideas. No promises though.

          Essentially what the offending comment implied was that artists who self promote are shallow and only in it for the attention. The issue I take with this is that it implies that if you want to be recognized for your work, you are selfish and not a real artist. So I guess all those authors and filmmakers who take credit for their pieces and make a living off of it are a bunch of dirty sellouts.

          This kind of mentality seems to run in the same vein as saying that heroes can’t take credit for their good deeds; that the satisfaction of doing something has to be enough. Anyone who stands up and sticks their name to the deed suddenly isn’t a REAL hero, just some schmuck who wants the attention. Society has this obsession with the brave knight who saves the day and then rides off into the sunset without asking for a reward. In the creative field we have a name for that kind of person: broke and undiscovered. Yes, it is wonderful to want to write or draw or cinematograph (wow, that’s actually a word) because you love doing it. That doesn’t mean it’s a sin to want people to know what you've accomplished when you're done.

          These days especially, it’s harder than ever to get exposure for your work; in the age of information, we’re so bogged down in tweets and funny cat photos to pay attention to every piece of art that flits across the screen. If artists don’t make an effort to promote themselves and make connections, it’s entirely possible that no one will ever get to see their work. While the joy of creation is great in itself, there’s nothing wrong with wanting and enjoying recognition for what you’ve done. It’s not egotistical to want other people to experience what you’ve shed blood, sweat and tears bringing into the world; otherwise what’s the point in putting it out there at all?

          I know that some people do write for themselves, and that’s perfectly fine too. Everyone has their own separate reason for doing art; but whatever an artist’s motivations may be, they don’t make the end result any less valid or beautiful. So I say, go ahead. Shout your name and novel from the highest rooftop. Title-drop in conversations. Rent a t-shirt cannon and stake out a high-traffic area. Whatever you do, do it  shamelessly. 

Editor's Disease

CE Jenkins

            George Lucas recently unleashed the Phantom Menace in theatres once again, this time in 3D comparable to the way the film reached off the screen and wrung your brain out the first time it came out. I can only assume this is part of a ploy to either shamelessly make money or—no, actually, that’s pretty much the only reason.

           But honestly, I just pick on the Star Wars prequels because it’s fun and easy. I like them just fine myself, although I won’t debate the fact that the originals are better.  What really interested me about the re-release was the interview with Lucas that appeared shortly before Phantom was shuffled back onto the big screen, in which the director answered to many of the complaints fans have raised about the changes he made to the original trilogy in previous years. Living proof that editing is to art forms as cocaine is to Charlie Sheen, to me Lucas’s changes are less about terrible decisions and more about how hard it is to put down the red pen when it’s been surgically grafted into your hand.

           Most artists I know are perfectionists; they live in conditions ranging between squalor and crazy-cat-hoarder, yet heaven forbid a single period goes out of place. And don’t get me wrong, I’m totally an advocate of spending Saturday nights debating the use of two nearly indistinguishable adjectives. You really should think your own work is perfect before you get it published or file it away or burn it cathartically or do whatever it is people do when they finish something. However, as wonderful as you might think the final product is at first, it’s a statistical guarantee that at least one other person is going to think it’s a pile of maggoty bat-droppings. And as soon as they start pointing out all the things they think is wrong with it, the illusion is shattered and your inner editor starts flexing the carpal tunnel out of her fingers.

           Another tough thing about any creative pursuit is that not only will some other people not like your work, but eventually you might not either. You’re always learning new and better ways of doing things that make plenty of your previous achievements look like crap; the ability to look back on your earlier work and cringe in emotional agony is the mark of a great artist, or at the very least an artist who is good enough to know when they’re bad. And of course it’s torture to look at something you’ve created and see everything that’s wrong with it, knowing that if you were given just a little time and some shitty CGI you could finally live up to your new standards of perfection.

           Going back and revising something in a story that everyone is already familiar with is about as annoying as that person telling a joke who keeps backtracking to say that “no wait, the duck was actually orange! And from Sweden! Or was it Switzerland? And now that I think about it, the duck was actually blue!” Once a story’s been told, that’s it. You can put it in different bindings or convert it to Blu-ray, but you can’t add bonus chapters and poorly rendered lasers that clearly wouldn’t have missed at point blank range, come on George you can do better than that.

          This post might be a bit more accurate if I started writing it mostly in the first person; at this very moment I’m working on a short story that I slapped down on my desk and declared complete three months and fourteen pages ago. But there comes a point where you have to stop and accept that your work isn’t going to get any better by adding a three-chapter prequel and changing the font to wingdings. Once the story has gotten to a certain point, any future changes you make will only end up distorting it.

           It’s an unfortunate truth that no matter what you do, eventually you will hate it. And then you will love it again. And then you will try to destroy every copy of it that ever existed. The point is that it’s finished, set in stone, and all you can do about it is either try to live with it or change your name and move to Greenland. Otherwise you end up slapping eye-assaulting CGI over your original scenes and rearranging the order of an already beloved bar-scene shootout. Figuratively speaking.

You Are Not Special.

CE Jenkins
    
           Your character is not perfect. If your character is perfect, then we have a problem. Very few people want to read about a half-elf, half alien that can shoot lasers from her nostrils and bitch-slap a t-rex with a shark. Actually, I take it back; I would read the hell out of that book. Rephrase: No one wants to read about a character that is super pretty and super powerful who everybody loves and who never makes a mistake or has any flaws at all. There are a lot of reasons behind this: readers don’t enjoy being nauseated, for one.

            I’m confident that most of us who have ever spent time around other human beings have run into a person kind of like this; they’re peppy, intelligent, kind, beautiful, altogether perfect, and odds are you can’t stand them. They remind us far too much of robots or aliens inhabiting human meatsuits and quietly plotting our demise.

Just sayin'.

 Personally I can’t imagine spending an hour with someone like this, let alone 500+ pages.

            One way to counteract this is to give your character imperfections; I know that’s a pretty shocking statement, so I’ll give you all a minute to pick yourselves up from the floor. Aside from that bit from Sir Patrick O’bvious, it’s also important to be sure the flaws you start slapping down aren’t just good things masquerading as bad. A few examples of this fallacy include a character who is stubborn, read, “he never gives up!” or a character whose acidic temperament results in a bunch of snappy one-liners which the supporting characters take in stride instead of getting irritated or defending themselves like normal people. The key is to make your imperfections actually unlikeable sometimes. For one thing, unlikeable traits don’t necessarily make an unlikeable character, and an unlikeable character isn’t necessarily a bad one. Your audience doesn’t have to want to hang out with the hero on weekends for them to want to read about her. And after all, there are plenty of things that you hate about yourself that don’t necessarily make you a terrible person.            

            So instead of having Billy’s shyness make him cute and relatable, also have it get in the way of his ability to socialize properly like it would for a real person. You say Donna likes to pick fights and is tough and cool as a result? Why not have it give her a bad reputation and get herself and her friends into trouble as well?

            One facet that seems especially fallible is the issue of beauty. When appearance is dragged into things, characters can either end up being one of two things: an airbrushed angel with rippling muscles and an eye color you’d expect to see on the side of a crayola crayon, or kill-it-with-fire ugly to show how they’re going against the status quo. The problem is that your character’s physical description should not revolve on how perdy they look, but on how their appearance reflects on who they are as a person. If you have a good reason for them being so stunningly attractive or repulsive, then go for it. Otherwise, I’d avoid it. It’s easy to fall victim to making your other characters dote on your protagonist’s beauty in a vomit-inducing way, or having your unattractive hero constantly whining about the evils of appearance. Whatever you do, make sure it’s not just for the sake of indulging yourself or your characters.

            Another thing that’s often glazed over is a character’s ability to make mistakes, especially ones with lasting consequences. Maybe it’s just me, but I live in continual fear of the inevitable moment when I do something so incredibly embarrassing that I’ll be forced to live in a secret underground cave for at least three years until I can forget my shame. I have one of these incidents about twice a week. But people in books hardly ever respond to someone who wasn’t talking to them, or writhe in the wasting agony of the awkward silence. They rarely make the kinds of errors that drop a heaping helping of lasting consequences into their laps on a regular basis.

 Yet mistakes are what makes us human, and if you’re sitting there grinning because your protagonist isn’t human to begin with, then congratulations, you won the internet. And yes, that was sarcasm. Every kind of character can benefit from errors of some kind to make them more believable. I mean, think about it; if you were a humble farmhand suddenly chosen to wield the magic sword and de-throne the evil king, you would be lucky to make it a couple weeks without slicing your own toes off or otherwise fucking the whole thing up. Besides, it can be a lot more interesting to read about how characters that done goofed deal with their errors and work to correct them. So in short, characters could stand to make mistakes and then have to deal with the repercussions.

            Lastly, many protagonists end up with some kind of super power or ancient weapon as one of the perks of being a main character. Be careful of this. It’s really easy to overdo it and make your hero a living god with so much power that all the challenges they have to face start to look almost pathetically easy. If there’s one thing I got out of government class is that great power should have checks and balances and something about great responsibility; Social studies wasn’t my number one subject. If your protagonist is immensely powerful, I suggest you have a damn good reason why and make sure that they don’t leave their supporting characters swooning in the dust. Then make your hero suffer for it. Everything has a cost, and the universe is one hell of a collector. Reflect this.  

            If you make your protagonist too perfect, pretty, and powerful, they will probably end up boring to read about and completely unbelievable. Everything needs to balance out in the end; like yin and yang, the cosmic scales, the circle of life; take your pick of metaphors. I'm out. 

Picture Reference

http://www.google.com/imgres?um=1&hl=en&sa=N&authuser=0&biw=1600&bih=775&tbm=isch&tbnid=9c-dhBOxAT97xM:&imgrefurl=http://www.buzzfeed.com/mjs538/8-facts-about-lady-gagas-meat-dress&docid=FlK-UaGOLPkkdM&imgurl=http://s-ak.buzzfed.com/static/enhanced/terminal01/2010/9/14/16/enhanced-buzz-15488-1284496566-20.jpg&w=383&h=600&ei=T4HZTvKiA6Ps0gH1-OWJDg&zoom=1&iact=rc&dur=462&sig=106889516085697478869&page=1&tbnh=136&tbnw=87&start=0&ndsp=43&ved=1t:429,r:3,s:0&tx=46&ty=60

            

Villains

CE Jenkins

           …Are one of the most important elements in a story. In my opinion. Which is right.

When I say villains I really mean antagonists, because not every story needs a pale thin man with a goatee and a penchant for dark castles and evil laughter. But every story does need conflict of some kind, because readers are evil people who love to watch characters suffer in elaborate ways. Even in character driven stories there must be a source of inner turmoil or whatever the kids are writing these days that will lead to character development. Characters are defined by their problems, so if you don’t have a good antagonist then your story could end up as stable and coherent as a drunken one-legged tyrannosaurus.

A lot of times baddies get the short end of the stick when it comes to character development, when there’s so much potential for a stronger story with a stronger antagonist. So here are a few general tips on building a good bad guy.

Decide what kind of villain the story needs. For responsible, organized writers, this step occurs naturally when they are neatly outlining their plot. But if you write like I do, you’ll just throw in an evil space monkey that you’ll realize 30,000 words later bears an unavoidable resemblance to Mojo-Jojo. No matter how you go about it, in the end the choice is yours. There are some categories to help get you started, though:

·         Man vs. Nature- Think disasters or survival in the wilderness. May also include the drinking of one’s own piss.

·         Man vs. Man- Someone or thing out there doesn’t like your character very much. What do?

·         Man vs. Self- Whether it’s demons from your character’s past or an existential epiphany, most of the conflict in this type will take place in your protagonist’s head.

Plenty of stories have more than one of these, or even all three. We’re going to be focusing on the Man vs. Man model this time, because I don’t feel like talking about the other ones.

Once you have your villain, find out where they come from. What was their childhood like? How did they get so evil? Why do they have an irrational fear of cheese? Most people don’t wake up one day thinking, “My, I quite feel like turning evil today!” Put your villain on the couch and ask about their childhood. Just be sure you have a taser or a thick sheet of bulletproof glass between the two of you, because you know they won’t stand for that Freudian shit. You don’t have to go too far in depth in the actual story, but the key is knowing it yourself and then working it in subtly as you go. This will make your baddie feel much more rounded, and studies have shown that being hit with a Frisbee hurts less than being hit with a wrecking ball. Think of characters like Voldemort, Loki, or Darth Vader; that last one got three whole prequels dedicated to how he got so evil.

Come up with your villain’s motivations. This can go hand-in-hand with backstory, but because this is an evil post of evil we’ll just pretend that metaphor was a lot more ominous than it was. So, why does your villain what to do that wicked thing he wants to do? If you answered that question with “Because he’s evil,” take a moment to enjoy this wonderful gif I found for you: http://gifsoup.com/webroot/animatedgifs3/1290449_o.gif

You need at least a simple reason for why they do things. Otherwise it’s just silly.

Consider their personality. No matter how much backstory you give a character, you still have to pay attention to where all that history has brought them. So many villains seem to be made with the same mould; they monologue, they kill their underlings and messengers like there’s no tomorrow, and they’re always very sinister with occasional bursts of insanity to remind us how evil they are. Don’t get me wrong, I love those guys. But at the same time, it doesn’t hurt to shake things up a bit. Villains are people too, unless they’re an evil squid dragon. They still should have the courtesy of having their own individual personality, because that will make them much more interesting to read about. Grey morality and sympathetic characters are fun, but on the other end of the evil spectrum you have buds like the Emperor and Sauron, and clearly those two franchises aren’t doing too badly. So no matter how you choose to do it, make sure you make the character unique.

Lots of good stories out there have a weak or clichéd villain. It is possible to pull it off, but my question is why would you want to? Baddies are a well of awesome story devices just waiting to be mined, and if that wasn’t a mixed metaphor then I don’t know what is. So build your villains carefully, folks. That is all.