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.
