Our own experiences give us the best insight into a character’s mind, into her thoughts and emotions. Let’s say you’re writing a scene where your heroine is experiencing a moment of fear or loneliness. Where do you access those feelings? Look deeply into your own life and find a moment where you felt the same way, even if the circumstances were different. I was writing a scene where a young girl is feeling vulnerable because circumstances made her run away from home. I’ve never run away from home, but I have experienced feeling small, scared, and alone. When I was five years old, my older siblings made me take the short-cut back from school every day, where we had to jump onto a narrow bridge over a canal which often flooded during monsoons. The water gushing under my feet would terrify me. One day, my class was released earlier than theirs, so I took off by the long but unfamiliar route, but soon lost my way. And for the first time in my life, I felt fear. Of course, a few minutes later my brother caught up with me and I didn’t even mind it when he scolded me for taking off like that! But I still remember the fear. This is what I worked into the scene: She stared at the sheer volume of the gushing water, at the vast relentless sky above, and the unfamiliar landscape behind her. And suddenly she felt small. Like an insignificant speck in the cosmos, who did not matter in the big scheme of things. If a lightning bolt were to claim her right now, there was not one person in the world who cared. A lump formed in her throat and she gulped. The universe had placed a burden on her young shoulders, but given her nothing to cope with it. How was she going to survive? She collapsed on the muddy bank, and sinking her face in her hands, rocked back and forth, as she mourned the end of the only life she had known, and her familiar world vanished into oblivion. It is human nature to choose the easiest and quickest path. When we talk, we use adjectives and adverbs to describe what we saw. “It was awesome!” This could describe a lovely sunset, or a suspenseful movie or a New Year’s Eve party. “It was simply awful!” It could be an exam you took, a horrible accident or a poorly written book. Most of us have an extensive vocabulary, but we seldom use it to its fullest extent, preferring to use vernacular. But it doesn't have to be like that when we write. Spend a little time to find that one perfect word that describes what you're trying to explain. See the examples below: 1. She was extremely beautiful, and people would stop and stare at her. She was stunning. 2. She ran really fast and crossed the cobble-stone pathway. Her throat felt dry, and her heart beat so fast she could feel it against her chest. She sprinted across the cobble-stone pathway, her throat parched, as her heart pounded against her chest. Sometimes a sentence is good enough, but we have a limit on the word count. We can substitute as follows, at the cost of losing some of the impact. See next: He was obnoxious, always putting people down and boasting about his accomplishments, annoying everyone at work. His pompous demeanor annoyed his colleagues. But when you start writing, don’t be inhibited; write what comes easily and naturally, and then edit until you find the perfect word. While telling a story, you can spring a surprise on the reader with a sudden calamity or an interesting twist, but it is more effective when you set the scene first. Take the example below: The scene is about a poor woman who gets mugged while buying a TV-dinner at the supermarket. Version 1: Gina hurried to the store to buy a TV dinner. She chose a Lean Cuisine on sale, for she couldn’t afford anything else. She went to the cashier, and when she opened her wallet to pay, a man in a black hoodie pointed a gun at her. He said, “Give me your bag.” Version 2: Gina got off the bus, and cursed as she stepped into a puddle. She was distracted. Everything depended on the presentation at Zane Enterprises tomorrow. All she had left in her bag was a $10 bill and the old laptop with her portfolio. If she didn’t get the job, she’d starve. Her stomach growled. She had skipped lunch and knew she couldn’t last another night on an empty stomach. A man in a black hoodie pushed past her as she entered the CheapMart. She browsed through aisles and finally chose a Lean Cuisine on sale for $2 and went to the cashier. She saw the man in the black hoodie again when she opened her wallet to pay. He pointed a gun at her. “Give me your bag.” When describing a scene, try to make the reader experience what’s being described. Writers have an advantage over film-makers, who can show expansive vistas, and give sound effects, but cannot tell us how it smells, or how it feels on the skin. Let’s say you are describing the scene of the kitchen of a depressed single man. You could say: The man was a slob and kept his kitchen messy. Instead, show us what someone experiences, using all senses: Anna smelled rotting garbage before she entered the kitchen. An old eggshell crunched under her shoe, as she made her way inside. Pizza boxes and beer bottles lay strewn on the counter, and the sink was filled with burnt pans and greasy dishes. A steady drip from the leaky faucet sang into a saucepan, as flies buzzed over a half-eaten apple. The above passage uses smell (garbage), feel (crunch), sight (pizza boxes and dirty dishes), and sound (drip and buzzing flies), and makes for a more effective description. So they keep telling new writers. But if you don’t tell, how're the readers supposed to know? You’re telling a story, after all. So what do they mean, anyway? ‘Tell’ means summarizing what happened, without much regard to how the characters felt, whereas ‘Show’ means relating what happened, leaving the reader to fill in the blanks. Instead of saying George was a miser, show that he refused to donate to a charity, even though he had a ton of money locked away, allowing the reader to infer that George is a miser. Instead of saying Susan is beautiful, show that her sister is jealous of the way people stare at her in a restaurant. The reader will infer that Susan is attractive. Example of ‘Tell’: On her way home, Susan picked up groceries because her husband was such a slob. She met her long lost friend Ryan, on whom she had a crush in high school. He had a little kid now. And the reader says, “Hmm. So what? Does she still like him? Did he like her back? Did the meeting mean anything after all these years? Why should I care?” The same scene in the “Show” mode could be something like this: Exhausted from typing the brief, Susan wanted nothing more than to go home and crash. But she knew the kids would be hungry. She had seen little Mark pour out the last drops of the 1% milk into his cereal bowl, while Miriam had half a cup of orange juice. Susan would have to make a pit-stop. If only Peter would behave like a real father and help out once in a while…But it was a night of terrible judgment that made her marry the slob. Now she was stuck with him. She knew he must have watched TV all day, chomping on chips and salsa. It was up to her. As usual. She made a U-turn into Broadway and drove into the parking lot of A1-supermarket. Grabbing the cloth bags from the trunk, she rushed into the store. As the glass doors slip open, she almost bumped into someone. The man dropped his grocery bag, spilling its contents all over the entrance of the store. “Sorry!” She said, bending down to help him pick up the bread and a bag of diapers. “Susan?” he said, holding a can of baked beans. She looked up at his face. It was vaguely familiar. His faded blue eyes and dirty blond hair and those freckles on his nose. Oh My God! “Ryan?” Her heart was pounding. Her stomach was in knots and her mouth dry. How could it be that after fifteen years, he still made her feel that way? He grinned, his eyes crinkling up just as she remembered, when she knew every line and curve of his face. He grabbed her in a massive bear hug. “Where have you been?” She struggled out of his grasp. Diapers! He had bought diapers! Alfred Hitchcock once said, “Movies are life with the boring parts cut out.” So it is with writing dialogue. A conversation between two people should be crisp, sizzling, gripping, and move the story forward. It should show emotion and conflict. Adding action and thoughts to the dialogue adds that extra zest. Let’s take the following example: An estranged father is meeting his now-teenage son after ten years. “Hello, son.” “Hello.” “You look good.” “Thanks.” “You have your mother’s eyes.” “So they say.” “Um…I’m back now, son. My drinking days are over.” “We don’t need you.” This sounds dry and boring. So let’s add some action and now. He came close to me. He looked old. “Hello, son.” “Hello.” I took a step back. He smiled. “You look good.” I rolled my eyes. "Thanks." “You have your mother’s eyes.” “So they say.” He tried to touch my shoulder. “Um…I’m back now, son. My drinking days are over.” “We don’t need you.” I turned around and walked away. Better, but it’s not engaging, because we don’t know if the son is being too harsh on his father, or why. We need to empathize with the boyNow let’s add the son’s emotions and some description: He came close to me. “Hello, son.” He looked older than I remembered. He had bags under his eyes and a receding hairline. I wondered if I’d become bald one day. I did have this SOB’s genes. "Hello." I would not call him Dad. I took a step back. Why was he here now? We were doing just fine without him. We didn’t need him, Mom and I. We had a good life now. She had a job, and I had school. He smiled. “You look good.” He was trying to ingratiate himself. He looked relieved that I said hello back to him. But it was not with any affection, or love. It was just good manners. Manners that he had never taught me. He had never been around for that long. I have learnt everything from Mom. “Thanks.” I rolled my eyes, trying to act cool. I didn’t need him. I don’t need him. “You have your mother’s eyes.” I clenched my jaw. “So they say.” That’s not what people say. Everyone says I have his eyes. Why was he lying? Had he already met Mom? Did she ask him to talk to me? I couldn’t let her get back with him. He was just going to hurt us again. He tried to touch my shoulder. “Um…I’m back now, son. My drinking days are over.” Once a drunk, always a drunk. I didn’t believe him. How could he think we’d take him back? What about all the hurt he had caused? Where was he when I was bullied in school? When the cops came to the house, searching for dope which I didn’t have? Mom and I needed him once. But not anymore. I’m almost a grown-up. I can take care of her. “We don’t need you,” I said, tears pricking my eyes. Then I turned around and walked away. Now we have the beginning of a story... Your characters need to be ‘three dimensional,’ and 'well-rounded.' That means, they must be believable, and not defined by a single characteristic. Add some complexity, give them quirks. A ‘good’ character still has follies and weaknesses. A ‘bad’ character still has redeeming features. That’s what we love about our favorite protagonists and villains. Give the good character a gambling addition that he’s trying to fight. Give your bad character some great talent, maybe dark humor or super-intelligence.
Your readers want to know what makes the characters tick. We want to know their dreams, desires, pains and obstacles, their weaknesses and strengths. Tell us what they need. Tell us why they can’t have it. Tell us what quality they have that’ll allow them to succeed. Most importantly, tell us why we should care. The character's desires should be believable. If a girl wants to be the world’s best ballerina, tell us how good she already is, why her goal is difficult, but still achievable, albeit with great difficulty. Don’t make her a klutz. Don’t give her a physical deformity that makes her dream impossible. Make her talented but poor, or in a difficult relationship, or in a remote island. But the talent and the drive to achieve her nearly-unattainable goal must exist. Examples of protagonists with weaknesses/undesirable qualities: We care about Harry Potter because he is relatively pure. He doesn't know he’s up against the most powerful wizard of all time. He is an orphan, he is small, his vision is poor, and no one seems to love him. He’s mediocre as a wizard. All these are unimpressive qualities, but his fame in the wizarding world leaves him unfazed and he remains humble. His goal is to survive, while the all-powerful Voldemort is out to get him. And despite all his shortcomings, we want him to succeed. Ron Weasley is a great friend, but is the jealous kind. Dumbledore is a great wizard, but has a dark past. Shrek has ugly habits (earwax candle, etc). Mr. Incredible is strong, but egoistical. Simba doesn't follow rules. Examples of redeeming qualities in the Antagonist: Your antagonist should have a desperate need to be bad. No one is all bad. Circumstances make them turn that way. Take the example of Scar from Lion King. He wants to be King (who wouldn't?), but the little scamp Simba is in the way. Scar is wicked and cruel, and the perfect villain, because he has no compunction to kill off a little cub. But he has style (and the accent). Darth Vader is stronger than Luke, and was always more talented and skilled. He turned bad to save his wife’s life. We respect that power and the dedication. Voldemort is all-powerful and almost impossible to kill. He wants to be the most powerful wizard ever, but he must kill Harry Potter first. That makes him believable. In summary, your good characters should be more good than bad, and have a very strong positive trait (bravery, honesty, integrity, compassion). Your bad characters should have more bad traits than good, and have a very strong negative trait (ego, lust for power or money, anger, hatred, jealousy). A good mix and balance between good and bad makes your characters believable. PLOT is what happens. The Protagonist wants something; she can’t get it due to conflicts or hurdles, so she must take action; protagonist wins/loses.
That’s the plot. Of course, the protagonist's desire differs from genre to genre, but the basic plot elements are the same. Your protagonist is going about her business and something happens to make her stop doing what she has been doing, step out of the comfort zone, and take action. It can’t be something the protagonist can walk away from. It must be central to her dreams, her mission, her very way of life. Remember Shrek, who was content to live in his swamp, but had to leave on a quest? He didn’t really care about the Princess. He just wanted his swamp back. His whole adventure is the plot. Same with Nemo’s Dad. So the plot has a beginning, a middle, and an end. The beginning is when you set up the stage for the protagonist, tell us who she is, what she does, what she wants, what’s important to her. The end of the beginning is when something happens that upsets her way of life. (Simba has to run away from Pride Rock). End of part I. The middle is when she does things to fix the problem. This is the longest part of the novel. The problem can be the antagonist, who can be a person (the villain), or an organization (evil company), a situation (protagonist loses her job or family member dies), nature (tsunami, volcano), anything that makes her do something. Each conflict is tougher and more dangerous, threatening her wellbeing. The end of the middle is when nothing seems to be working, and the protagonist is most likely to fail, and something or someone helps her out. The end is when everything is resolved. Protagonist faces the greatest hurdle; she must vanquish the enemy and finally, either wins after the epic battle (saves the world or gets the promotion) or loses, but gains something else in return (loses job but realizes that life is more than just that, relationships get fixed). So you are a professional. A scientist, an engineer or a physician. You've seen fascinating things in your career, and you have a story of your own to share with the world. It's not really science fiction (or perhaps it is), but lots of technical details will go in your story. But in today's high tech world, it's all believable. So you're good to go. But you've spent your whole life mastering quantum physics or orthopedic surgery or DNA analysis or making better wind turbines. Maybe you stopped studying 'English literature' right after high school. Your grammar and vocabulary are pretty good from taking various entrance exams. But you know nothing about writing a novel. And you really want to write the novel. So how do you go about it? Let's break this down methodically, scientifically. Chances are, you've got an idea, a main concept for your story. It's the THEME. (Not the PLOT, which will be the topic for another day.) What's a theme? Theme is the single unifying concept of the story. It's the underlying topic or message you want to send. Maybe it is 'love triumphs', or 'beauty is skin-deep', or 'technology can be dangerous in the wrong hands' or 'technology can save the earth'. Now you've got your THEME. What you need next is a PROTAGONIST, the person to whom things happen, and who does things to fix the issue, winning (or losing) in the end. Maybe you want to model that person on yourself. Hint: Strong female protagonists always draw sympathy in adult novels. But if the book is a sci-fi for kids, make him a boy. Your PROTAGONIST should be a complex character, with quirks and all (no nose-picking, please). Maybe she likes Starbucks, or bites her nails, or is embarrassed by her stumpy feet. Whatever the quirks, the protagonist should be basically a good person, and being good-looking doesn't hurt. Let them have a long nose, but no squints. Full lips, and maybe slightly crooked teeth, but no gaps! Make the character believable. No one's perfect. If your character looks like Marilyn Monroe, chances are she doesn't need to go into science to make a living (!). There are exceptions, of course, and that's why you write about them. So give her a long neck, but perhaps make her self-conscious. Readers want to identify with the protagonists' inadequacies. You can introduce depth in your character, slowly reveal their likes and dislikes as the story unfolds. You don't need an information dump right in the beginning. You introduce your protagonist as a righteous person, content with their life, or right in the middle of action. If they are content, something must happen to make them to go out of their comfort zone and take action. What happens to them and what they do next is the PLOT, the topic of next time. |
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