So, hi.
I’m going to try this whole blog thing. See what it’s about. There’s been a lot of fuss at work lately, and I know a few folks who are making side-bucks writing blogs for the professional people who are too busy (and can’t string a sentence together to save their souls). So, I thought, I have thoughts folks might be interested in. I am capable–most times–of stringing sentences together. And I have this great new purple netbook. Let’s see what we can get going on, already.
The first point I would like to make is about character. I don’t think you can really call a story good (and I’m speaking story generally and inclusively, here) unless the characters are solid. And I think a solid character is someone who is ordinary in almost every way. For me to connect with them, I have to think that I could meet them on the bus. They have to be the guy in line behind me buying a sammich for lunch. Otherwise, I just don’t really give a damn about what’s happening to them.
That’s the other part of the equation, of course. Something extraordinary has to happen to them. Because, of course, although I want him to be the guy in line behind me buying a sammich, I don’t want to read about him buying a sammich. I can just go to buy my sammich if I want to see that.
So there we have the essence of story: Ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances.
My problem here, recently, is really a very common one. Common mostly for first timer writers. But when I see it in established authors, it just makes me grind my teeth. I’ve read a couple of horror books by this supposedly well-established author (no, not Stephen King, I adore him. Okay, most of him). I’m not going to name names or titles, I don’t want to start a writer pissing match, I want to talk about story.
Anyway, this author obviously has a lot of issues with sex and women. That’s his cross to bear, if you will. I see it, and I can kind of get past it. As long as it can reasonably weave into the story, I can cope. But all of his characters–with very few notable exceptions, which we’ll talk about in a minute–are perfect. They have perfect bodies, perfect hair, dress perfectly, and everyone wants to be with them always. There is never a man who doesn’t have every woman crushing on him; and never a female that doesn’t have every man crushing on them, always. Do you know anyone like this? Seriously? Even the incredibly gorgeous folks I know do not have EVERY person crushing on them EVERY time.
Further, do you want to read about someone like this? Does a person that damn perfect interest you? Can you relate to them? I can’t. They’re just not real. And, if they’re not real, then what happens to them doesn’t matter. Because that’s not real, either. Sure, I know a story is not real. But there has to be a chance that it could be real, in order for me to care.
His exceptions are the other end of the spectrum. They are the bad or undesirable characters. They are, without fail, fat. They are uncouth. They are without a saving grace. They are gross. His disgust for these characters oozes out of every adjective. And they are usually the villains. Do you know anyone like that? Me neither. Can you care about or relate to or even reasonably be concerned about someone like that? Nope, not me.
So, in closing, so I can get my tired old bones to bed and finish off my work week tomorrow, make your characters average. Love them with the patience and wisdom of a grandparent. Never, ever, try to make a perfect character. At least, not if you want your story read.
G’night, all.
