KN Magazine: Articles
You Want Me to Spend Time with You?
For a character to keep readers invested, flaws are fine as long as they're presented effectively. This article explores how character development, contrasts, and redeeming qualities can make even the most unlikable characters worth following to the end.
By Paula Messina
We all have different measures for what keep us reading. One of mine is characters I’m willing to live with all the way to the end. The gift of a mystery got me thinking about this. Why do some characters meet my requirement and others fail?
The novel looked promising. The author had won a prestigious award. The main character is an archaeologist. I enjoy books that involve an expertise, especially one I’m not schooled in. Alas, my interest dwindled quickly.
The story is told through the main character’s viewpoint. She is miserable and self-loathing because of her weight. This was not a good sign, but I read on. Soon enough a detective needs her help on a murder case. He comes not with hat in hand. Rather, he’s downright nasty. Not only is the detective as off-putting as the main character, his approach is irrational. The characters have no history together. His unprofessional behavior is inexplicable, even cause for termination. Didn’t he learn at his mother’s knee you catch more flies with honey than vinegar?
Actually, he was terminated. I stopped reading the book.
For me to sustain interest, I don’t demand that the characters be Mother Teresa incarnate or a Nobel Peace Prize winner or even a Boy Scout rescuing abandoned dogs. It’s those one-note grumpy characters I can live without.
I’m not alone in this. After I closed that book, I read the online reviews. I have plenty of company. The negative reviews essentially said the same thing: I don’t want to waste my time on these characters.
It’s next to impossible to imagine anyone more dislikable than Ebenezer Scrooge. Dickens is emphatic that absolutely everyone avoids him. “Even the blind men’s dogs appeared to know him; and, when they saw him coming on, would tug their owners into doorways and up courts; and then would wag their tails as though they said, ‘No eye at all is better than an evil eye, dark master!’”
And yet Scrooge is one of the most enduring and, dare I say, beloved characters in English literature. Ebenezer is proof that flaws are fine. It’s how flaws are presented that makes all the difference. Characters need not be perfect. Indeed, they shouldn’t be.
Dickens pulls the reader into A Christmas Carol by raising questions. Who is Marley and why should we care that he died? Why was Scrooge “his sole executor, his sole administrator, his sole assign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole friend, and sole mourner.”?
Dickens quickly establishes Scrooge’s wretched personality. No reader would invite Ebenezer over to watch the Super Bowl, at least not until the three Ghosts of Christmas get through with him. Dicken’s delicious descriptions keep us curious about how one being could be so miserable and disliked, but delicious descriptions only satisfy for so long. Dickens could have easily pushed Scrooge into an unbearable, unreadable character.
Yet Ebenezer Scrooge endures. Why?
The answer is simple. Scrooge doesn’t tell the story. An intimate, chatty, gossipy narrator does. If Scrooge told A Christmas Carol, it is highly doubtful even the inestimable Dickens could keep readers turning the pages for one hundred eighty years.
Arthur Conan Doyle and Rex Stout used the same technique for the odd genius Sherlock Holmes and the often belligerent but brilliant Nero Wolfe. We see Holmes and Wolfe through the eyes of their friends, and because Watson and Goodwin find redeeming social value in Sherlock and Wolfe, the reader does as well.
It’s no accident that Dr. John Watson is a cheerful, friendly character, or that Archie Goodwin is only a few IQ points short of Wolfe’s genius. Archie is wittier than Wolfe, likes women, and is a great dancer. Our view of Sherlock and Nero is filtered through these immensely enjoyable narrators, and we’re willing to stick around until the end.
A narrator isn’t the only technique to make an unpleasant character palatable. We often describe our lives in absolute terms. I’ll never be anything than an utter failure. My husband never compliments me. My mother never has a kind word for anyone. There’s a name for this kind of thinking: cognitive distortion.
We humans are not a never-ending one note, miserable or ecstatic. Even in the worst of times, we laugh at a good joke, make goo-goo eyes at an infant, and enjoy the warm sun on our skin. It’s impossible to be miserable all the time, just as it’s impossible to be endlessly upbeat.
Humans experience ups and downs throughout a day, a year, a lifetime. Characters do as well. Good characters are complex. They enjoy life one minute and complain in the next. They lament about their weight, then promise to diet tomorrow.
In the mystery mentioned, a little levity, for example, would have made the character’s self-loathing tolerable. An explanation and an apology would have made the detective’s initial bad impression understandable and relatable. In other words, mitigating circumstances make an unpleasant character more lifelike, but even mitigating circumstances only carry a reader so far.
Sherlock’s genius makes him impatient with lesser mortals. Wolfe has a dark past that is never explained. It possibly involves a bitter betrayal by a woman. Dickens shows us Scrooge’s descent into a spiritual wasteland through a series of flashbacks while also showing Scrooge’s journey to reclaim his soul. It is those flashbacks that make his redemption on Christmas Eve believable. His goodness was always there to be brought to life. We know in our hearts that Ebenezer Scrooge does become “as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world.”
It’s not flaws that are off-putting. A character without a flaw is malformed. It’s how those flaws and foibles are presented that makes the difference. A main character can be stubborn and uncooperative. Supporting characters can goad the protagonist into a better disposition. Archie Goodwin is a master at this. Introduce a humorless character to a cutup. Dr. Watson on the page isn’t the bumbling Nigel Bruce, but he does lighten Holmes’ intensity. A dour woman populating pages needs to meet a ray of sunshine. Conversely, that main character who insists on imitating Pollyanna is just waiting for someone to burst her bubble.
Contrasts work wonders. Characters bring out different aspects of the main character. Best-selling author Barbara A. Shapiro says different friends bring out different aspects of our personalities.
Think about it. You discuss politics and solve the world’s problems with one friend. You’re a veritable joke machine with another, and a third has you discussing how to grow mushrooms and make kimchi and sauerkraut. Scrooge interacts differently with Bob Cratchit than he does with his nephew Fred. Scrooge moves from disbelief, to insolence, fear, and finally to submission as he travels with each ghost.
This works both ways. No human is always bubbly and positive. Characters aren’t either. What my friend Marilyn says of life is also true of fiction. “If you don’t have a problem now, wait two weeks.”
In the novel I’m writing, Donatello, my main character, is essentially a good guy, but he vents his fury on his parish priest. The priest deserves the drubbing, but Donatello believes it’s a sin to scream at a priest. He screams anyway. Donatello would be a weak character if he ignored the priest’s nastiness.
Donatello’s anger serves another purpose. It displays Donatello’s determination to reclaim his life after an accident robs him of his dream to pitch pro ball. Donatello’s anger says he’s not giving up. No one’s pushing him around, not even his parish priest. This anger intensifies Donatello’s commitment to find his sister’s murderer.
When I pick up something to read, I want to be carried along in a story filled with characters I’d invite to share my life for a while. They can be a pompous Sherlock, a ton of immovable flesh a la Wolfe, or a Scrooge so nasty even dogs avoid him. But I only keep reading if those negative traits are balanced by positive ones. In short, for this reader, how a writer presents his characters is vitally important.
As for the kvetchers, the malcontents, the one-note nasties, I’d rather not even open the book.
Paula Messina lives near America’s first public beach. When she isn’t sloshing barefoot through the Atlantic, she’s writing short stories and essays. Her humorous caper, “Which Way New England?” appears in Wolfsbane, Best New England Crime Stories 2023. “Science for the Senses,” an essay, is in issue 7 of Indelible Literary and Arts Journal. You can listen to her reading works in the public domain at librivox.org.
The Magnificent 7: Universal Story Plots and the Twelve Archetypes
Explore the seven universal story plots and twelve timeless archetypes that form the foundation of compelling storytelling, and learn how to apply them to your own writing.
By Martha Reed
I was asked by a curious fan how I built my stories. Not where my story ideas came from, but about their actual construction, their underlying, underpinning architecture. Writers already know how to use the basic three-act structure, but are there other options in our writerly toolbox that we should be using to lure our readers in?
The answer is ‘yes.’ Human beings have certain story expectations bred into our bone marrow. Developed in pre-written history, seven universal plots and 12 archetypes have successfully survived into our modern era, crossing multiple cultural divides. That’s not to say writers should rigidly follow a static and unwavering formula or create stale and hackneyed characters. Those would instantly turn an avid reader off. But do the following inherited plots and archetypes still have something to offer?
First, let’s look at definitions:
The basic story question is: “What happens next?”
Plot happens next. It’s the sequence of events inside the story.
An archetype is a story element like an idea, a symbol, pattern, emotion, character type, or event that occurs in all cultures. Archetypes represent something universal in the overall human experience. (I’ll share an example. The international movie, “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” used so many common archetypes that I found myself repeatedly wondering if I’d seen the movie before.)
In 2004, literary theorist Christopher Booker wrote “The Seven Basic Plots: Why We Tell Stories,” basing his premise on the following seven plots:
Overcoming the monster – An evil force is threatening the hero/heroine and their world. The h/h must slay the monster to receive a great reward.
Rags to riches – The h/h is insignificant and overlooked by others. Because of a trigger event, they are revealed to be exceptional.
The quest – The h/h sets out on a long, hazardous quest, overcoming all obstacles until they reach their goal.
Voyage and return – The h/h travels outside of their comfortable world into the unknown before returning to the safety of their home.
Comedy – A series of trigger events involving mistaken identity or a fundamental misunderstanding that results in hilarious chaos.
Tragedy – A story without a happy ending that ends in loss or death.
Rebirth – The h/h falls under a dark form of control before breaking free and being redeemed.
Regarding archetypes, psychologist Carl Jung theorized that we use such symbolism to grasp complex concepts more easily. He stated: “There are forms or images of a collective nature which occur practically all over the earth as constituents of myths and at the same time, as individual products of the unconscious.” Jung maintained that these archetypes remained unchanged and recognizable and that they exhibit personality traits that are commonly understood.
The 12 archetypes are:
The Innocent – Seeks to do things the right way in harmony, free of corruption or influence.
Everyman – Seeks connections and belonging. Supportive, faithful, and down-to-earth.
Hero – On a mission to make the world a better place.
Outlaw – Questions authority and breaks the rules.
Explorer – Inspired by travel, adventure, and risk.
Creator – Imaginative and inventive, driven to create things with real meaning.
Ruler – Creates order from chaos. Typically controlling and stern, yet responsible and organized.
Magician – Makes dreams a reality.
Lover – Inspires intimate moments with love, passion, romance, and commitment.
Caregiver – Protects and nurtures others.
Jester – Uses humor, irreverence, mischief, and fun to bring joy to the world.
Sage – Thoughtful mentor or advisor bringing wisdom and deeper insight.
Taking this information, try these exercises to tighten your creative focus:
Name a book or movie that uses each one of the seven plots.
Name a character from a book or a movie that fits each of the 12 archetypes.
Using your current work in progress, which of the seven plots fits your story? If you discover some overlap, which plot is stronger? What happens to your storyline when you focus only on that one?
Identify an archetype for each one of your characters. Next step: which archetype do they think they are? Do the two choices match? What happens to your focus and your character’s motivations when they do?
Martha Reed is the IPPY Book Award-winning author of the John and Sarah Jarad Nantucket Mysteries and of “Love Power,” her latest mystery set in the spellbinding city of New Orleans featuring Gigi Pascoe, a transgender sleuth.
She’s an active member of the Florida Gulf Coast and Guppy chapters of Sisters in Crime, a member of Mystery Writers of America, and in a moment of great personal folly she joined the New Orleans Bourbon Society (N.O.B.S.)
Her stories and articles have appeared in Pearl, Suspense Magazine, Spinetingler, Mystery Readers Journal, Mysterical-e, and in “Lucky Charms – 12 Crime Tales,” an anthology produced by the Mary Roberts Rinehart Pittsburgh chapter of Sisters in Crime. Her story, “The Honor Thief” was included in the 2021 Bouchercon anthology, “This Time For Sure,” edited by Hank Phillippi-Ryan.
Martha adores travel, big jewelry, California wine country, and simply great coffee. She delights in the ongoing antics of her family, fans, and friends who she lovingly calls The Mutinous Crew. You’re invited to follow her on Facebook and Twitter @ReedMartha.
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