How to Not Write a Jerk

Fiction isn’t reality. Most of us are clear on that. When we look at romance novels or any story with a romantic element, we aren’t dealing with any kind of reality. We’re dealing with fantasy. The kind seen in ancient mythology where the gods descend as golden motes in a ray of light. Romantic fiction engages the older brain wiring, the part that needs to be romanced and adored by someone or something more than human. I suspect that’s part of the appeal of the so-called ‘alpha hero’. No shade. They just aren’t my cup of tea unless they’re either getting taken down a few pegs or shanked by the heroine. The problem, in my mind, is that alpha heroes go too far and cross the line into abuse. The trope, as a whole, hasn’t aged well as social media has peeled back the curtains on women’s experiences with men in real life. Our line for what’s acceptable behavior from potential partners has shifted. Our male protagonists need to shift, too. I have an internal list for how to walk the fine line between a capable, confident leader and a spacious-walk-in ash-hole.

1.       Biology – Recognize that the biological concept of an ‘alpha’ is deeply flawed. The initial notion came from a wildlife biologist observing the behavior of wolves in captivity – not in the wild. The concept of alpha came from disordered behaviors brought on by unimaginable, unremitting stress. We could call it toxic, even. It’s also at odds with how wolves behave in their natural habitat. Recognize also, that it isn’t a gendered behavior. Any gender can act as an alpha, whether the disordered version or the soft, gentle, collaborative version.

a.       Opportunities: You can leverage this dichotomy in a protagonist, turning them into alphaholes in a moment of extreme stress. BUT if you don’t want a complete jerk in your book, that shift into ‘I’m the boss of you’ behavior must make the stress/danger worse. Assuming it’s our hero slipping into toxic masculinity in an ‘oh shit’ moment, any self-respecting heroine must push back and call him out. Or simply walk away.

b.       Position: Alpha can be useful. It can be worthwhile using disordered alpha behaviors to show up a protagonist’s flaws and to give the other protagonist a chance to draw a line in a relationship. Lots to explore. It’s okay to be an alphahole *for a little while* and so long as that alphahole gets schooled and subsequently changes.

2.       Psychology – understand that in humans, hard shell alpha behavior from any gender (and no gender) is a mask. It might sound trite, but that mask is a cover for trauma. Disordered alpha behavior stems from an attempt to control one’s environment to the point of needing to control others which stems from soul deep distress. Again, it sounds trite, but if you pry beneath the dominating behaviors, you’ll find terrible wounds. The person with these wounds is rarely consciously aware of them. The alpha mask is a coping mechanism meant to armor the person both against the wound and against anyone else perceiving the wound. Because this mask was likely put on early in life, it feels integral to the person’s being, but it’s a desperate attempt at protecting oneself that, when taken to extremes, does untold damage to self and to others.

a.       Opportunities: If your hero is a dominating alpha, you can let your heroine and your antagonist glimpse the wounds beneath the mask. The antagonist will use the wound against your hero to destroy him. The heroine can work on bringing the wound to light so it can scab over. It might not entirely heal, right? Wounds leave scars, but better a scar than a wound seeping poison everywhere (and that a bad guy can leverage to manipulate you.) Look for ways to turn the trope – I love showing up alphaholes as either the cowards they are underneath, or the deeply wounded, flawed people they are underneath.              

b.       Position: nobody gets to be a jerk for long on my watch. I don’t mind using the convention for a little while, but no hero is going to get to be a jerk in a heroine’s presence without having his metaphoric ass handed to him by her. I do love the process of a heroine unmasking a hero and holding out a hand in offering to help heal him. His first step is swallowing the massive stone of ego to get up and meet her halfway.

3.       Character arc: No alphaholes without change. No jerk goes unchallenged. Or unalived. Characters must change. If they refuse to change, they do not survive. It’s the tale of our species. Adapt or die. Somewhere wrapped up in the genome are memories of watching the inflexible die in the far distant past. Stories play on that unspoken, unexamined racial memory. The road to change starts somewhere, though. And I’m willing to bet that our distant ancestors adapted because of love – love of children, love of partner, community, life, learning, curiosity – whatever it was. The drive to survive and adapt comes from having a why.

a.       Opportunities: Soft spots. Weaknesses. Alpha heroes need a soft spot or a weakness for something or someone. They need a line they will not cross (and then, of course, you make them cross it in one minor-ish transgression that brings them up full stop wondering who and what they’ve become.) A current hero I’m working on has a massive, do-anything-including-die-for-her soft spot for a woman who isn’t his heroine. It provides the heroine a chance to get in under his armor and find out he isn’t what he pretends to be.

b.       Position: This is me again, questioning the alpha premise by turning ‘alpha-ness’ into something the heroine wields against the hero and exposes the alpha mask as a weakness. Her promise to him is that by unmasking and integrating his wounds, he’ll be stronger, happier, and freer. And just to subvert the trope even more – you can reverse the whole thing. Heroines can be alphaholes, too, those most readers just say ‘wow, she’s a bitch.’

Whew this got loooong. Sorry. Didn’t realize I had this whole big thing in my head about character power dynamics and personalities.