Character Growth: The Point of the Story

 Is it necessary for a protagonist to continually gain power/ability/expertise as a series progresses?

For my book it's imperative the protagonist, at a bare minimum, grows emotionally. They can grow, break, and rebuild over the course of the series. The "break and rebuild" is useful if a series that was intended to be seven books suddenly becomes wildly popular with enough demand to justify continuing the series (hey, I'm allowed to dream, right?). However, if there's no character development internally and/or externally, then the series is Same Shit, Different Monster. That's no fun for me to write. If it's no fun for me to write, then it's no fun for anyone to read. 

Regular visitors to this blog know I'm a planner. I plan the series arc and how many books will be in the series before I begin Book One. By having a predetermined end of the series, I avoid giving my protagonist too much power too quickly, thus robbing her of risks and challenges, which deny her character growth and make the story dull. 

It is absolutely possible to over-develop a protagonist and have them grow too much too fast. Average Joan leveling up to an omnipotent undefeatable world-creator overnight is a trap that happens often in series that aren't pre-planned. The character has no space to grow. They have no believable opposition. They have all the gizmos, all the magics, all the knowledge...and the character fizzles. They're no longer compelling. Readers become bored and abandon the series. 

Yes, there are series with 25+ books holding firmly in the Best Seller lists that have zero character growth. The books are as formulaic as the characters. Obviously, those stories aren't character-driven. Obviously, the audience for those books enjoys the comfort of predictability. Obviously, I'm not dunking on a dedicated fanbase for liking a style that's not mine. It's one of many reasons why there are few hard and fast rules in writing. Most everything is recommendations based on "what works for me. YMMV."

For me, my protags have to evolve over the course of a book and a series. Otherwise, what's the point of the story?

Two Types of Character Deaths

 This week we’re talking about killing off characters and asking is it necessary. It’s not a new debate among authors or even readers, as Jeffe mentioned, and so far this week my fellow SFF Seveners have given opinions from both sides. 

KAK made a good argument that we, as consumers of entertainment that’s filled with death and dying, are numb to it. Vivien made the point that to make a character death, MC or secondary, worth it you’ve got to make the character earn it by showing growth. 

And that’s my answer to the question: Both! How can I choose both? Because for me, there’s two types of character death. 

The first type of character death: mass casualties. The kind that pile up as you’re slicing your way through a game like Heavenly Sword or reading a Gridmark. I believe we, people in general, are inured to this type of death. It isn’t personal. We’re capable of separating ourselves from it—be it in the media or in real-time death toll numbers that flash across our screens—because it isn’t personal. 

Depending on the type of book this kind of death is part of the story. When I wrote The Mars Strain back in 2015 the Ebola outbreak was maintaining a death toll. It wasn’t even close to our current pandemic’s tracking, but it was reality. So I knew I needed that piece of reality in my fiction and I wrote in a high casualty rate. Devin Madson wrote a great post about trad and indie publishing and near the bottom is an excellent, little section about The Pitfalls of Gridmark (it’s a great read, check it out!). Devin talks about the difference between character development and suffering, and that there is a difference, even in a genre stuffed with death. I translate Devin’s point about Gridmark to: don’t kill a bunch of people just for the sake of killing. Have a reason, be intentional.

Which brings me to the second type of character death: the immediate death. Not as in fast, but close proximity—usually a beloved secondary character. This is the one that hits you in the heart, the one that makes you cry, and the one that changes the main character’s trajectory. I have a couple close proximity deaths in The Mars Strain and I spent a lot of time debating if those secondary characters really needed to die. In the end I came to the conclusion that yes, they did because only with their deaths could my main characters make the decisions that they do that result bring about the climax of the story. Intentional, very intentional.

Nope, I’m not going to give away any spoilers here and name names.

And there you have it, my take on killing off characters and how I believe the two kinds of character deaths—mass casualties and close proximity—are needed for some tales. But I will stand firm with Vivien on the furry friends. Don’t touch a single fluff on the four legged characters (I’m looking at you I AM LEGEND by Richard Matheson who made me bawl). 

How about you? How do you handle writing character deaths or reading character deaths? And please, don’t ever tell me Kevin Hearne killed off Oberon.

Making it Personal: Backstabbing Best Friends

 

Our topic for the week is all thanks to the Ides of March and legendary backstabbers. Who's the best backstabber in fiction?

Dear people, I give you Fernand Mondego.

What a jerk, right?

I have ridiculous love for The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas. I've been taken with the tale since I was a teen and am currently working on a fantasy novel inspired by it. When the movie with Jim Caviezel and Guy Pearce released in 2002, you can imagine my delight. Though the story and characters had been changed pretty drastically, the essence of the original work remained. And I LOVED IT. Still do. I will never turn down an opportunity to catch a viewing, and I'm re-reading the book this year, too.

In my opinion, The Count of Monte Cristo is one of the best revenge tales ever written--if not THE best. However, the betrayal in the film felt even more severe than in the novel. How? Why?

Because Fernand's character received an excellent revision, IMO.

In the film, Edmond and Fernand are best friends. In the book, the young men are merely acquaintances (Fernand is Mercedes' cousin). Because there's no personal history between the men in the book, the knife of Fernand's betrayal, though still buried deep, doesn't strike the reader's heart quite so sharply. 

Until I prepared for this blog post, I'd known the villain in my novel was missing something, some detail, some WHY for his dastardly behavior, but wildly enough, even given how much I adore The Count's tale, both film and book, I couldn't put my finger on the issue. Last night, the answer hit me.

The deception is awful, but it's not personal enough. It doesn't cut to the bone.

I even recalled some old writing advice I'd read and stored in the cobwebby corners of my mind: MAKE EVERYTHING PERSONAL. MAKE IT HURT. The stakes, betrayals, loss, etc. will affect our characters and readers much more if raised to that next degree--the emotional degree.

It was like a lightbulb went off in my brain, though I felt dim for not having seen the answer before. Thus is the writer's life, I suppose. Betrayal hurts more when committed by someone we believe loves us, or at least a person who possesses some level of loyalty and familiarity. This also affects the villain/protagonist relationship across plot points, because the game totally changes when a character is up against someone they know well--or thought they knew well. There's soooo much writers can do with this type of conflict, so many twists to explore. It's FUN, y'all!

So, if you're wondering how to amp up the conflict in your tale or if something feels off, examine the emotional layer. Is the conflict personal? Can you revise and dig deeper? Don't be afraid to try.

Remember: If Dumas can benefit from a revision, we all can ;)

On My Mind: Protagonist Age

On my mind this week are thoughts about determining the appropriate age for the protagonist(s) of a new high fantasy trilogy that's up next in the writing queue after I finish Bix Book 7. It stems from frequent forum discussions about why there are so few women age 40+ starring as protagonists. It's not to say that there aren't any books that slot that need; it's that women of a certain age remain atypical protagonists.  

Is it an issue of the ease of fallibility? The younger they are, the more we forgive stupid decisions. Stupid decisions allow for characters to end up in high-stakes situations far more often and easily than mature characters who know better. After all, brains aren't fully developed until the mid20s.

Is it an issue of fewer responsibilities? Quests are a lot easier when the only responsibility you have is to yourself. As you age, you amass things, people, relationships, and obligations. Responding to an inciting moment for a 40+ carries greater weight than a barely 20 something, yet it's easier? more palatable? more acceptable? for a young adult to cut ties to 'find themselves' or to shirk responsibilities because they can't prioritize?

Is it an issue of implied permission for selfishness? Youth is inherently selfish. The world of a teen/young adult revolves around the individual. Even if they're obsessed with a romantic interest, it is only because they believe that interest will somehow "save" them from whatever ills. If a 50-year-old pulled the same self-centered stunts, they'd be shamed, ridiculed, derided. They wouldn't be heroic, they'd be assholes.

Is it an issue of youthful romance being hot and passionate, where midlife love is dull, tame, boring? Let's face it, as a society, we're conditioned to believe that bedding the hot, young (above the age of consent) thing is a laudable goal regardless of the age difference. But what if a 60-year-old protagonist doesn't want the plaything? Training wheels are tiresome. The drama of youth is tedious. What they want is someone established and content with who they are. They want the butterflies of new love without the angst youthful insecurities. Too blah? No meaty story there?

Is it an issue of a happy stable relationship being a character flaw?  Whatever shall a writer do about romantic tension if their protagonist is in a long-term loving relationship? Default to justifying a cheating scandal? Less heroic, unless they're the one being cheated on, in which case being the victim is trite and overdone. Kill off the loved one as motivation? Again, cliche. It requires more creative effort to show that love can be constant and still have challenges that don't mock or threaten fidelity. 

Is it an issue of the ease of inexperience? Imagine, if you will, a youthful protagonist who wasn't an instant expert. Who wasn't in a position of authority because they hadn't earned it yet. Because, gasp, the old folks with tons of hands-on experience were in charge and not inherently evil? Imagine the protagonist in a position of leadership has to quell another uprising of privileged, entitled youths who can't conceive of the world beyond their limited experience. Is that as interesting as the story of rebellion told through the eyes of the youth?

Is it an issue of mass appeal? Since every adult has been young and precocious in their own way, does it make a story more relatable to the masses if the protag is also young? Does having an older protagonist limit reader enjoyment because of conscious or unconscious ageism? Is "she's too old to do that" a fault of reader perception or author creativity? 

Obviously, I don't have answers. I'm still working through the tradeoffs of an older versus a younger protagonist. Opinions? Considerations? Tell me about them in the Comments!