Three essential traits of the non-AlphaHole hero

 

There has been a lot of talk in the romance writing community of late about dark heroes and whether they are ‘AlphaHoles’ (alpha male arseholes) that are setting a poor example. The conversation usually revolves around main male characters (MMCs) as they appear in F/M romances, but of course AlphaHoles can be gay, or they can be of any gender. In this article, I’ll be talking predominantly about MMCs in F/M romance, but the principles apply in other situations too. The popular examples I give at the end aren’t even from romances. Because of course, what we learn of character from romance can apply to other genres.

Personally, I prefer a gentle MMC. Think butler or scholar vibes. It’s what I write, and it’s what I prefer to read (though as a writer, I often read outside my comfort zone). But in gay romances, even when there is one gentle MMC, the other one is often not so gentle for contrast (think A Rake of His Own by AJ Lancaster).

Also, despite my own preferences, I have a policy to not ‘yuck someone’s yum’, so when I sat down to think of three traits of a non-AlphaHole hero, I thought of traits that could be applied equally to gentle and, er, more forceful heroes:

They are aware of the personhood of other people, particularly their romantic partner

A non-AlphaHole hero knows that everyone is a person with their own wants and needs. He knows it’s not all about him. He remembers his love interest’s likes and dislikes, and he respects their commitments to the other people in their life. If he is pushy, he checks first to see if it’s OK to apply that pushiness in new situations (e.g. the bedroom). This knowledge may be something he has a handle on from the beginning of the story, or it may be something that develops over time as part of his character development.

If the MMC is forging ahead with only his own plotline and other characters have to fit their own stories into the gaps around him, he might just be an AlphaHole.

They know how to use their power for the sake of others

A non-AlphaHole hero will, at some point in the story, put his own goals aside for a while to act on behalf of someone else. This may be something he is actively choosing to do if he is aware of how his power affects others, or it may be something he instinctively does, and then along the way he learns about his influence.

If the MMC continues to draw all the other characters into his own plotline and use them for his own ends throughout the story, he may just be an AlphaHole.

They reject toxic masculinity and decide for themselves how they will ‘be a man’

A non-AlphaHole hero may be masculine, but he’s not ‘toxic’. The exception may be for some toxicity to appear at the beginning of the story, but for the hero to learn how not to be toxic and to be a man on his own terms, in a way that doesn’t hurt those he cares for.

If the MMC acts even remotely like an internet incel after act 1, then he is an AlphaHole.

Put these three traits together, and you’ll see that you can have a very dark, very dangerous hero who is nonetheless not an AlphaHole.

There’s a reason that recently in SFF TV, the beloved ‘daddy’ of scifi is Pedro Pascal’s Din Djarin in The Mandalorian, and everyone’s favourite fantasy hero is Henry Cavill’s Geralt of Rivia in The Witcher. One is a masculine, arse-kicking man who has dedicated his life to looking after a lost infant, and one is a masculine, arse-kicking man who has dedicated his life to looking after an orphaned girl. Each one has made choices about how to live his life that take into consideration the needs of other characters and uses his own power for the sake of others in a way that is the opposite of toxic masculinity. It has been wonderful to see men in protective caregiving roles get so much love and attention. Their popularity as hardened warrior characters is because of their attentive care of these children, not despite it.

A non-AlphaHole doesn’t have to be looking after children, but he does need to look after someone, and let himself be looked after in turn. Because it’s that reciprocity that shows us he remembers that he’s still human, no matter what dark turns his fate has made.

Calanthe Colt (pen name) is a SFF romance author from Aotearoa New Zealand. She writes romantic books that balance exciting adventure or tense situations with the quieter moments of life. Her stories usually have magic, almost always have cooking or gardening, and definitely always have sweet romances that, no matter the heat level, are comforting, like a snuggly blanket and a mug of hot chocolate on a rainy day.

Her debut book Goddess Found, a standalone fantasy romance with cosy vibes, is out now. 

Find her at: www.calanthecolt.com

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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.

Three Traits of Jeffe's Kind of Male Protagonist

 I'm teaching a worldbuilding master class in Portland, Oregon on August 4, if you're in the area or want to be! Check out the Willamette Writers Conference here. 

This week at the SFF Seven, we're talking about writing male protagonists and how to avoid creating an "alphahole." For those not in the know, an alphahole is an ostensibly alpha male who is actually an asshole, or is perceived as an asshole by the reader. This is a more complex issue than it seems on the surface. The alpha male hero is a popular trope, particularly in Romance, but in other genres, too. The alpha male is a leader, bold, confident, a protector. In some ways, he is often the idealized male. Some readers don't like this trope or have greater sensitivity to certain aspects of the typical characterizations. 

I tend not to take this too seriously. Personally, I like my alpha male heroes like I like my fiction: no relationship to reality required. 

That said, I don't really write alpha males very often, largely because my books almost always center the female protagonist and her journey to complete the quest, etc. The classic alpha male hero doesn't intersect well with that kind of arc. Though I do love to have two strong, determined leaders butt heads and find common ground in love, learning to lead together. 

Three traits of a guy like that?

1. Enough self-confidence not to be threatened by a competent woman.
2. Secure in his masculinity so he doesn't need to "prove" it to anyone.
3. Integrity and compassion that allow him to adhere to his principles and lead with care for his followers.