Category Archives: Character

Why does the hero usually benefit from a group of friends to support them, while the villain seems to go it alone, surrounded by toadies, henchmen, and often monstrous servants, but no real friends?

A favorite example for me is David Eddings’ classic fantasy: The Mallorean. I loved this series when I read it as a teen, and one of my favorite aspects of it were the fantastic cast of characters. Their friendship, bantering, and personal quirks felt so real, and helped draw me into the story. Every one of them played an important role somewhere along the way, without which the hero could not have succeeded.

On the opposite end of the spectrum was a villain who casually killed just about everyone they knew as soon as their usefulness ended. The contrast was powerful and effective.

Another stellar example is the friendship between Frodo and Sam. Without Sam, Frodo was doomed. Antagonistic forces were always loners: Sauron, the Dark Lord; Saruman the White, who turned traitor and allied with Sauron, but couldn’t be considered a friend of the ultimate tyrant. Then there was the creature, Gollum. So alone he had developed schizophrenia to have someone to talk to. I was fascinated by Frodo’s attempt to befriend that broken, evil soul. In the process of allowing Frodo close, Gollum actually seemed capable of redemption, but when he rejected Frodo, his ultimate fall was guaranteed.

So why are friends necessary for the hero? I’ve come up with what I think are some compelling reasons:

The hero is usually the underdog in most stories. They’re caught up in crazy events that they usually would rather avoid, but cannot seem to escape. The enemy is usually far more powerful and dangerous. Without friends to help them develop and grow and become the hero the story needs, they’d never survive long enough to get a shot at victory.
The hero must usually rise to fight some kind of evil, which means they represent the good. They might not be necessarily good of themselves, but they must represent good, or have ties to those they care about that are good. And those ties of love and friendship make them human, help readers relate, and encourage us to root for them.
The hero is usually attempting to effect change. Real change cannot be done solo.

There’s a lot of great information about heroes and heroism out there. One resource I discovered is Matt Langdon of Heroism Science. He’s got an excellent post about heroism and the team heroes need to build in order to succeed. Check it out here: https://heroismscience.wordpress.com/2015/07/16/every-hero-needs-a-team/

Back to the villain. Why do they have so much trouble building friendships?

If they’re truly evil, they simply can’t understand friendship, which is a form of love, placing it outside of the realm of understanding of a truly evil villain.
True friendship requires acts of kindness and thoughtfulness, which is selfless and understanding. Most villains are proud and selfish, which again makes it nearly impossible for them to understand or embrace the necessary demands of friendship. Pride is by nature competitive, pitting the proud villain against anyone and everyone.
However, if your villain is not one of those ultimate evil types, you might be able to craft one who gets it, at least at some level. Some of the most interesting villains are those who honestly think they’re right, who display kindness and honor, but who draw different conclusions about the world and how to fix it than the hero.

Think Magneto from X-Men. He’s ‘The Villain’ and he does terrible things. But through the story, he is portrayed as a man of deep thought and, at least initially, seems interested more in protecting mutants from abuses than causing them. He’s actually very good friends with Professor Xavier, even though they must face off time after time. The root of their differences is their different world view. That type of conflict is extremely fascinating.

So build stories with great heroes and a stellar cast of supporting characters: the Mentor, the funny Sidekick, etc.

And when crafting your villains, consider making them human too, with real, complex motivations for what they do, with people they care about, and with real human emotions.

Those kind of villains are harder to hate, those stories are more complex, and often more difficult to write. But those are the stories that resonate the most powerfully. None of us will have to face the Dark Lord to settle the fate of the entire world, but we all have to face people who do mean or rotten things. Or maybe they’re just people who hold different political or religious views. It’s easy to see them as villains, but those people are human too, and although it makes it harder for us to hate them, they usually feel like they have good reason for what they do.

Deeply moving stories happen when the hero must stand against a friend. Find that story, and you’ve got a winner on your hands.

About the Author: Frank Morin

Frank Morin loves good stories in every form. When not writing or trying to keep up with his active family, he’s often found hiking, camping, Scuba diving, or enjoying other outdoor activities. For updates on upcoming releases of his popular Petralist YA fantasy novels, or his fast-paced Facetakers Urban Fantasy/Historical thrillers, check his website: www.frankmorin.org

An unforgettable friendship

March 2, 2017

David Heyman

Aimee Kuzenski Author's Perspective Character Guest Posts No Comments

(Guest post by Aimee Kuzenski)

Friendships – pure friendships, that don’t simply serve as a pause on the path to romance – can be difficult to find in YA or adult fiction. That makes the few out there special, and the rare brilliant friendship stands out like a comet.

The central friendship in Code Name Verity by Elizabeth Wein (http://www.elizabethwein.com/code-name-verity) qualifies as one of the most memorable I’ve ever read.

Code Name Verity is a historical fiction set mostly in England and Nazi-occupied France. I won’t get too detailed about the plot, because despite the fact that the book was published in 2012, I refuse to spoil anyone who has managed to remain ignorant. Suffice it to say the first half of the book shows you one view of the world, and the second half tilts that view on its head and then kicks you in the chest. I listened to the audiobook on my commute and found myself sobbing the car, a reaction I honestly rarely have. I can’t recommend it highly enough.

What I can talk about is the friendship between Queenie and Maddie. Two girls of different classes in an England preparing for World War II, they represent the sort of tight bond that comes of shared difficult circumstances. They meet as part of the war effort, and each finds something to admire in the other. Maddie loves her new friend’s strength of character and brilliant mind, the way she’s able to sharpen her tongue on bullies and fools and get the job done whatever the cost. Queenie yearns for the freedom and daring she sees in Maddie, who owns a motorbike she rebuilt herself and flies relief missions over occupied France. They become inseparable, and when Queenie must fly there in the dark of night, Maddie insists on being her pilot.

They are traumatically separated, and the reunion is short and devastating. It comes as a shock, but it’s defined and ordained by the strength of their friendship. It’s not the end of their friendship – the relationship is revealed to be even stronger than the women could have known if they hadn’t been tested by the war.

The novel takes readers from Scotland to the basement of a Gestapo headquarters, from the cockpit of a stripped down biplane to the home of a tense but loving family in the French resistance. Wein’s research was obviously extensive and careful, and all the details ring true.

But the core of the book, what makes it special, is Maddie and Queenie’s friendship. Structured as two diaries, the first belonging to Queenie, the second to Maddie, The book details the women’s inner thoughts and reminiscences of their times together, and their love and fear for each other. Their friendship is the purest thing to be found in the midst of horrific war.

In an art form that tends to see friendship as lesser than romance or family, Code Name Verity takes the stance that friendship can be more important, more resonant, more long-lasting. It’s a gorgeous, bright, long-tailed comet of a relationship, and one I’ll never forget.

***

Aimee Kuzenski is a speculative fiction writer with an eclectic history, ranging from the stage to circuit design to Filipino martial arts. A graduate of the Viable Paradise writer’s workshop, she is the author of Eye of the Storm, a modern fantasy in which the god of War takes over the body of a West Point instructor, and The Golem Factory, a fantasy novella about a thief who awakens a sentient golem. Aimee lives in Minneapolis with a hairless cat named Beatrice. More information can be found at her website: http://akuzenski.com.

Friendships in Fiction

March 1, 2017

David Heyman

Character Craft & Skills Dave Heyman The Writing Life No Comments

Here we are folks, we’ve made it to March! We’re ready to roar in like a lion into this month’s theme: Friendships in Fiction. This was my first opportunity since joining the Fictorians last year to select the topic and I knew immediately that this was what I wanted to cover.

Characters and the relationships they form are one of the primary reasons we are drawn to fiction and done correctly the friendship is one of the most powerful and poignant relationships an author can put in front of the readers. Sure the star-crossed lovers, bitter enemies and complex family dynamics all have their place, but sometimes I just like to see two characters stand together against the odds, connected by nothing but their mutual respect and admiration for each other.

Many of the this month’s bloggers will talk about their favorite friendships in fiction. My mind races to Legolas and Gimli in the Lord of the Rings, who slowly transition from openly hostile in Fellowship of the Ring to enemy-counting besties by the time Return of the King rolls around. The classic trio of Kirk, Spock and McCoy on the original Star Trek, exploring the final frontier while using their varied viewpoints to render new commentary on the human condition. These are just two prominent examples- -I have a few more friendships I’d like to highlight, but I’ll save those for my personal post later in the month.

Some of our contributors this March will also talk about how they use friendship in their own fiction. The slow build of a friendship over the course of the story is a satisfying arc to take your readers on, and one that gives you many ways to manipulate those readers as you do so. Having a friend is an easy way to make your protagonist more likable, for example. Friends also give your hero someone who can be put in jeopardy by your villain, or even worse be revealed as the villain themselves!

Finally, some of our bloggers will talk how they have been helped along in their writing careers by their friends. Writing can be a tough and lonely business at times. Having your Tribe to lean on, having someone to provide that feedback or critique you needed or simply just to remind you that you are supported- -it’s invaluable.

Like the man said: “It’s dangerous to go alone.”

So come along with us, friend. I promise we’ve got lots to show you this month.

Wading Through the Muddy Middles

February 22, 2017

Nathan Barra

Action & Adventure Character Conflict Craft & Skills First Drafts Ideas & Plotting Mystery Nathan Barra Plot Structure Reader Investment & Empathy Rewriting Romance & Erotica Social Combat Tension The Writing Life No Comments

Even with a fantastic opening hook and an explosive inciting incident, many stories spend time slogging through the “muddy middles.” As the name suggests, the middles are the time part way through act two where the story no longer benefits from the momentum of the inciting incident, but also hasn’t reached the point where it is drawn forward by the climax. This sag in tension is a dangerous time for any story as it allows the reader to put the book down. Therefore, deciding how to draw your audience through the middles is an essential part of any plotting.

If you ask a dozen authors how to best navigate the middles, you will often get fourteen answers. In truth, the “best” method depends on what sort of story you are trying to tell and what are the strongest emotional draws for your audience. Rather than listing all the possibilities, I’ll focus my discussion on four techniques that I think can be used in a variety of different stories.

Many thrillers and action/adventure stories will bridge the middles with a series of explosive scenes. By doing so, the author simplifies their task to propelling the reader from scene to scene rather than from initiating event to climax. As the reader progresses through the story, the duration between action sequences should shrink. This gives the illusion of accelerating right up into the climax.

Consider as an example the action/adventure film John Wick. The introduction and inciting incident occur in the first fifteen minutes of the movie and the climax occurs at roughly one hour and fifteen minutes. Taken at a very high level, what happens during the hour between those two points? First, there is a period of milieu and character work to establish the character of John Wick and the rest of the world. Then there is a beating delivered by the big bad and the big bad’s first try/fail cycle to resolve the issue without violence. This is followed by a gun fight, a short period of world exploration, a gun fight, a brief pause for recovery, a fist fight, a briefer pause for a few wise cracks, a gun fight, a yet briefer pause in which John Wick sets some stuff on fire, and once again a gun fight that ends in a capture sequence. John then escapes captivity and dives straight into the climax of the movie. The tension is not allowed to slacken for a moment because John is near constantly either in danger and/or kicking some ass.

Though the thriller model is effective, it won’t work universally. After all, mystery audiences won’t be satisfied by explosions and flying fists. Instead, they are looking for intellectual stimulation. However, it isn’t enough to simply give them a puzzle. As the story continues, they need to feel as if they are coming closer to the solution. The key here is to ensure that each new answer they find along the way complicates the puzzle by being either incomplete, misleading, or raising yet more questions. The best, recent example I can think of to illustrate this style of plotting is the movie Arrival. Don’t worry about spoilers. Unlike John Wick (2014), Arrival (2016) is still new enough that I will only speak in broad strokes.

I believe that the story of Arrival works as well as it does because everyone goes into a first contact story expecting an overt conflict between humanity and the aliens. However, twists this trope on its head, which is intriguing in and of itself. The main story is a mystery driven by the question, “What do the aliens want?” Along the way, we the audience are given pieces of the puzzle in such a way that they don’t all come together until the very end. This plotting structure latches onto our fundamental human curiosity and pulls us forward with the illusion of progress towards getting an ultimate answer.

Where action/adventure plots seek to satisfy a sense of physicality and mysteries work to stimulate intellectual curiosity, romances play on the human need for connection. Will our point of view character be able to woo their paramour? Can our protagonist choose between two appealing, yet opposing romantic interests? How will our two (or more) romantic leads be able to overcome whatever forces hold them apart and end the story together? No matter the details, the drive is still the same. Will our protagonist(s) be able to achieve their need for connection? As such, we writers need to maintain tension by repeatedly denying our characters, and by proxy the readers, the connection they desire. We can do this in two major ways.

First is by introducing conflict internal to the relationship. By giving the romantic interests compelling personal conflicts and reservations, you allow them to stand in the way of their own happiness. It’s important to note that the reasons holding your characters apart need to be fundamental to their character, something substantial enough that it can withstand several try/fail cycles and significant enough that it poses a legitimate threat to the relationship. An example of this technique can be found in the early relationship between Eve Dallas and Roarke in Naked in Death by JD Robb. During her investigation of a sensitive homicide, Lieutenant Dallas meets Roarke and sparks fly. She feels conflicted because she can’t eliminate him as a suspect in her case, but also increasingly can’t deny her developing feelings for him. Her gut tells her that Roarke is innocent, but she can’t prove it. Robb draws us through the romantic arc by having Dallas’ blooming feelings clash with her sense of duty.

The second option is to introduce some element of external conflict, where your romantic interests strive together to try to overcome a barrier from outside the relationship. Again whatever the threat is, it needs to be big enough to possibly end the relationship. Twenty three books later in Innocent in Death, Robb introduces one of Roarke’s old girlfriends into the storyline to give Eve an extra emotional complication on top of her homicide investigation. The ex-girlfriend’s presence causes friction between Eve and Roarke and in so doing threatens their, by then well established, relationship. In both cases, the emotional distance between the characters drives our readers forward; they want to make sure that Eve and Roarke end up together.

It is important to note that though all the techniques I have described are different, they all appeal to the readers’ emotional draws. Ultimately, we need to ensure that our readers are always having fun, even when the momentum slows. Lucky for us, writers start their careers as fans of their genre. We know what fun is for the genre and our own enjoyment can serve as a metric for how well we are achieving that goal. Granted, this doesn’t hold true for the twenty seventh edit where you brains are leaking out of your ears. Rather, how much fun are you having in the moment of drafting? How much do you enjoy reading your story after letting it rest for a time? If you as the writer aren’t having fun, chances are that your readers will feel much the same way.

So if you ever find yourself drafting your manuscript and just slogging through a slow section, take a moment to step back and reevaluate. Why aren’t you having fun? Is there something about this scene you can change to make it more appealing? Does this scene really need to be here or in the book at all? You don’t always have the luxury of changing or dropping a scene. Sometimes you just need to power through it and fix the problem in editing. However, writing should be a joy. If you aren’t having a good time, it’s okay to take a step back and find ways to make your story more awesome.