heroes

High Drama and Heroism

March 7, 2018 By Donald Maass

I’m no hero. Not the kind who faces physical danger, anyway. I don’t risk my life on a regular basis, unless you consider flying across the country in a commercial jetliner, seated in Business First, to be risking one’s life. (If you do, hey. I’m doing just that as I type this post.)

No, I’m no hero. Under the right circumstances, I might be. I like to think that I would. We all like to imagine that we’d respond coolly in a crisis, put others ahead of ourselves, do the right thing and face danger without flinching. Same with moral peril. We’d like to speak truth, stand up, inspire others, take action when others shrink back.

Mostly we’re not called upon to do that. Heroism falls to others. Still, we’d like to be ready. We are heroes inside. We celebrate and thank those who’ve sacrificed and fought, either with weapons or with moral courage. We hold them in the highest regard. We organize parades, erect monuments, lay wreaths, salute, hashtag, retweet, and wipe away tears.

We need heroes, not to save us but to lift us. To inspire. To challenge and remind us to be our best selves. To be brave. That is why heroes endure in literature. I don’t mean only gumshoes, sheriffs, military men and women, superheroes. There was a thousand ways to face fear, and fears to face.

Fear is the key. Facing it is what makes a hero or heroine. That means that heroism can inspire us in any novel. In yours. The one you’re writing right now. Does that sound impossible? Does it sound over the top, pulp, unsuited to your story? If so, I understand but let me ask you this: Don’t you think that right now the world needs more heroines and heroes?

Who is going to inspire the courage—the courage that we all want and need—if you do not? Writing fiction is a realm in which showing courage does not fall to others. It falls to you.

ENGINEERING HEROISM STARTS WITH SHAME

Let’s look at some ways to engineer heroism. Recently I asked a workshop full of writers what their protagonists are most afraid of. The answers fell into three categories: 1) Hurting or betraying loved ones. 2) Being emotionally hurt or betrayed oneself. 3) Doing the wrong thing, giving in, going to the dark side.

Interestingly, common fears that you might expect to arise quickly didn’t, such as physical injury, blindness, dying. Perhaps those are hard to relate to? Regardless, it is emotional peril that stirs the greatest fear. Disappointing others. Disappointing self. Giving in, going down, selling out. Failing.

Those fears are rooted in a powerful, primary emotion: experiencing shame. Thus, building heroism starts with creating fear, and creating fear starts with shame. So, considering your WIP and its world, what would most shame your protagonist? What would be the worst possible humiliation? Especially self-inflicted?

More: Whom does your protagonist least want to disappoint? Who holds your protagonist in high regard? Who depends upon him or her? For whom must your protagonist be there, strong, supporting, dependable, always doing right? You can also give your protagonists boosters and believers—perhaps one in particular—who have faith in him or her. Strengthen those bonds. Express that admiration or hero worship. Have your protagonist make a promise, one important to keep. You can also give your protagonist a code, principle, or rule to live by to which he or she steadfastly adheres.

No doubt you see what to do with those elements. Break the bond. Let that person down. Make your protagonist do—once, when it counts—what is low, contemptible, cowardly, false, avoidant, weak or selfish. In what way can your protagonist betray another? How can she or he fail to uphold the all-important code, principle or rule? How can your protagonist let down not only others but, worse, herself or himself?

In other words, establish what constitutes shame for your protagonist. Then, cross that boundary. When your protagonist goes down, we will know fear. We will understand that anyone—you or I—can succumb. We can also work our way back to the right side, of course, and it is that return to goodness, grace, honesty, integrity, right and self-sacrifice that stirs us, your readers, to courage.

Put simply, when your protagonist overcomes the worst possible shame then we know that we can all be heroic. [Read more…]

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Three Lessons Supernatural Taught me about Writing Authentic Characters

October 1, 2016 By Jo Eberhardt

If you’d asked me in January what my 2016 New Year’s Resolution was, I would have told you that it was to (finally) watch Supernatural, the WB series just going into its twelfth year. Set the bar low, right? Still, I wasn’t convinced I’d actually achieve it. I’d been hearing about how great the series was for the last eight years, and hadn’t managed it.

Forces conspired to make sure I had some extra time in early March, however, and one night I sat down to watch the first episode. Long story short, I watched all eleven seasons in a six week period. Then I fell into a bereft state, knowing the journey was, if not over, at least suspended. So I lost myself in YouTube videos of Supernatural Conventions, read articles, found other Supernatural fans to fangirl out with, and exhorted friends to watch it, just so I’d be able to talk to them about it. In June, when my obsession had died down enough to allow a few rational thoughts to bounce around my head, I started to wonder… why?

Why had the show affected me so much? There are other series I like; I have favourite movies and characters, but Supernatural hit me like a ton of emotional belonging. And so I started to break it down.

The premise is right up my alley: brothers fighting supernatural monsters to avenge their mother’s death. But that’s not enough on its own. The story arcs are engaging. The soundtrack is incredibly well done — so much so that there’s a particular piece of piano music that inspires in me instant, Pavlovian sobbing. But good music does not an engaging TV series make. No, the more I thought about it, the more I realised that what makes Supernatural great is the characters; or, rather, the way the characters are written, directed, and acted. They are some of the most authentic characters you’ll find on the screen. So, even on those occasions when the meta-story wandered off and got a bit lost (I’m looking at you, seasons six and seven), the characters kept me coming back again and again.

With that worked out, I went back and watch it again — yes, all eleven seasons — and, this time, I paid more attention to the writing; to the way the characters were give deep, emotional, authentic life. These are the top three things I noticed.

Oh, one more thing: The title of this post is something of a misnomer. None of the following points were new to me, much as I suspect they won’t be new to you. So I didn’t so much “learn” them from Supernatural, as I saw them brought to life in a way that resonated with me and will, I hope, make my writing stronger. But “Three Lessons on Writing Authentic Characters that are Perfectly Illustrated in Supernatural” doesn’t roll off the tongue nearly so well.

And so, with no further ado…

1. Characters rarely say what they actually think and feel.

Sam (Jared Padalecki) and Dean (Jensen Ackles) in their Impala.

As you know, one of the most annoying types of dialogue is “as you know” dialogue, where one character says something to another solely for the purpose of informing the audience.

One of the things I love about the characters in Supernatural is that, not only do the characters not do this, they also rarely, if ever, reveal their true thoughts and feelings — at least, not until they’re pushed into it through either intense fear or anger. There are often moments where the Dean and Sam are cruising around in their Chevy Impala, both with body language screaming “I’m in pain!” or “I’m scared!”, but not a line of dialogue is exchanged. The audience knows what’s going on in each character’s head — we can see it in the set of their jaws and the looks in their eyes — but they don’t talk about it. And that tension is exquisitely, painfully beautiful.

Part of the magic of those scenes lies with the writers, and part with the actors. We don’t have the luxury of visuals when we’re writing novels and short stories, but that doesn’t mean the lesson isn’t valid. As they say, actions speak louder than words.

2. A character’s past experiences informs her present choices.

Flashback: Dean (Ridge Canipe) and Sam (Colin Ford)

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Lisa Cron over the years, it’s the above sentence. But, generally, I can’t stand flashbacks in movies or TV shows. They’re all-too-often trite, overdone and, unnecessary.

Except when they’re not.

We don’t really get flashbacks in Supernatural until season three, and, by that time, the characters are well established. The purpose of the flashbacks is not to explain who the characters are or where they’ve come from — that’s done, and done well, in the present day stories. No, the purpose of flashbacks in Supernatural is to give context and depth to the emotionally-based decisions the characters make in the present day.

So often, I’ve heard writers — and writing teachers — talk about flashbacks as though they’re the second most evil thing you could include in your story. (The first, of course, would be adverbs.) And then there’s the old chestnut about “no backstory in the front half”. But, really, the best rule to follow when it comes to flashbacks is simply: No poorly motivated or executed flashbacks. Ever.

3. Antagonists don’t think of themselves as “bad guys.”

[Read more…]

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Heroes and Villains

September 19, 2012 By Sophie Masson

Heroes and villains–they’re of course at opposite end of the spectrum, in terms of characters, but they share more than might be obvious at first glance, and if you’re in the business of writing fiction and creating such characters, it can be useful to think about those things.

Of course, the principal element that heroes and villains have in common is their function in terms of the story: it is their interaction which determines the main action of the plot. At its most basic, it is either that the hero is being specifically targeted by the villain, or the villain has general nefarious plots which the hero sets out to foil.

But a common function in the plot isn’t the only thing these two extreme types of characters share. They are leaders, not followers, and they also share high doses of intelligence, imagination and determination, all of which are neutral qualities to be used for either good or bad. (I’m talking here about major, central heroic or villainous figures, not the minor characters, good and bad, who line up behind them). And I also think of heroes and villains as blowing hot or cold. What I mean by that is that I think major heroes and villains can be each basically divided into two broad sub-categories, Type Hot and Type Cold. Of course these are only very broad generalisations; traits will often bleed into each other. But basically: [Read more…]