“Investment of Character,” pt.1: the Hero

February will be a month of investigation. Analysis. Understanding the creation and depth of phenomenally well-developed characters. A lot of this is drawn by my obsession with several great stories, but I want to take it that extra mile because I think it may help my own ability to give life to the characters I create. That’s why writers are encouraged to study the work of others, right? To learn from those you admire to see what makes them successful.

My earlier post on J.J. Abrams’ mystery box again comes back to haunt me (in a good way). It’s full of inspiration and, combined with my recent fixation discovery of Farscape, is the foundation for this three-part character analysis. Around 12:20 in the TED video, Abrams discusses Investment of Character and how it’s not the big, well-known elements of stories that we should rip off. “Rip off the characters,” he preaches. “Rip off the stuff that matters. Look inside yourself and figure out what is inside you because ultimately, the mystery box is all of us.” That’s where I turn to my interests to analyze what it is about them that hooks me in, makes me invest my time in that character’s life for three- to four- hundred pages, or countless hours of television watching.

The logical place to begin this investigation is with the hero. Everyone loves a hero. S/he’s the centre of the story, the one who saves the world/saves the day, rescues those in danger. Basically, the stereotype we all know and love. Sure, we know the qualities that make up a hero, but what is it that makes each one unique?

Believability. A character must be real to be worth my time. Even in the realms of science fiction or fantasy, where creatures of all shapes/sizes exist, the character must be real. So what makes them real? Depth. Everyone sees the hero as the main character, the good guy. I like my heroes to have flaws. Lots of flaws. I want them to struggle, make mistakes, refuse to learn from those mistakes and fail. Honestly, I don’t think I care so much if they succeed in their designated quests as long as I can look into their souls along the way…but that’s my psychology talking.

Conflict. Specifically with characters, inner conflict. I love sharing adventures with characters who struggle with and learn about themselves. Best example on my mind again relates to Abrams’ idea of ripping off what matters. Sydney Bristow and Aeryn Sun both grew up without their mothers. As a result, each envisioned her own ideas on who her mother was, deciding at some point that she wanted to grow up just like the imagined being. During her adult life, she confronts her mother only to realize the internal creation was a childish fantasy masking the truth; the mother was nothing more than a selfish, cruel woman who claims her progeny’s existence was a foolish mistake.

Both Sydney and Aeryn have their inspiration (and their faith) shattered almost in a single moment. I’m not saying this mother-daughter conflict is a direct rip from either programme, nor do I have any sources indicating any such theft. I just think it’s a supreme example of Abram’s point. Two completely different stories utilizing the idea of a childhood delusion that comes back to torment the character at a crucial point in her development.

Morality. The universal controvery in story-telling. The expression of morality (or lack thereof) in literature will never please everyone. Essentially, however, the hero is the good guy and theoretically must always make good choices… I reinterate: Flaws are the key ingredient to character believability. While I may have certain limits as to what I will or won’t tolerate from literature, I’m a staunch believer in literary realism. It’s important that, rather than shy away from sensitive subjects, we embrace them. Discuss, debate, etc. but do something. The nature of humans, the nature of life encompasses the grisly elements as much as any amenities. As long as a subject can be used to further a story, further the development of a character, by all means use it. Don’t, however, include something just to have it in there. Be true to the characters, be true to the plot, and leave the question of morality’s involvement in the hands of potential readers. Free will can govern them.

Hm. I honestly expected to integrate more specific examples this week, but as I said, my mind’s fixated on Farscape these days and I don’t want to bore anyone with verbose, fan-based commentary. The only logical step, then, is to bring the spotlight on readers: What are your opinions on what makes a good hero? What are the moral boundaries that govern your choice of literature? Why? I personally think the reason I’m so accepting of the more gray, sensitive areas is because I’m fascinated by psychology and adore exploring the inner-workings of character development. To repeat myself again in reference to ABC’s Lost, the mechanisms of the island promote certain intrigue, but at the end of the day, my investment is more concerned with how the crash has affected the characters’ evolutionary circles.

I hold no qualms towards John Locke starting out the man of faith, with Jack Shephard the man of science, only to have them switch those roles over the course of six seasons based on the events they’ve been through. People do change like that in real life, so writing stories that way captures the essence of humanity. The stuff that matters.

Next week: villains who are good at being bad and loathed.

And That’s How I Survive(d)

Bullies, peer pressure, parents, academics, nagging bosses. Stress exists in many forms. Equally various are the ways in which to deal with tough situations. I used to think my imagination was merely a mechanism that further separated me from my classmates. With several psychology classes behind me, the more logical answer is that my imagination became my shield.  My method of survival relies solely on that which gives me life.

Maybe I waste too much time with my head in the clouds, refusing to grow sessile in the place we deem “reality.” The reasons aren’t as important as the efficiency. It is because of my imagination that I conquer the challenges life deals me. In elementary school, the problem was bullies and lack of confidence in myself. Being the avid reader that I am, I buried my soul in the books that fed me, pretending the problems my favourite characters faced were the same problems I had to face. One example comes from the children’s sci-fi series Animorphs. In the first book, the five main characters discover their world is being invaded by Yeerks, a parasitic alien race. It was rare to distinguish if another human was being controlled by the aliens, but one thing that helped was any unusual behaviour from the characters’ friends or family.  Where does this play into my elementary education, you ask? Well, I told myself that my bullies had no choice in their actions; they had Yeerks in their brains. I admit that confessing this sounds a bit pathetic, manifesting E.L. Doctorow’s quote that “Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia” and therefore writers merely channel the disease through a creative filter. But it worked. Besides, isn’t that the point of books? To carry us away to other worlds where others confront difficult situations that result in changes and growth so that by the end of the book, we’ve changed as much as any of the characters involved by allowing ourselves to share said experiences.

This defence mechanism probably more deservingly fits into the thespian category, given how it utilizes the traits of others. I like to think the commonality of actors and writers is the chameleon skin we wear. Honestly, what other careers exist that allow a person to literally do whatever or be whatever they could imagine (and beyond)? They’re the two “best” careers because, within them, every other occupation is achievable. I can wake up tomorrow and decide I want to be a lawyer. Do a bit of research, come up with a story, and I’m there. But I’m not stuck there if I decide next week to vacation on Coruscant, Middle Earth, or Alagaësia. Painstakingly, they’re also among the “worst” careers (what art isn’t?) because of the precarious dedication required to succeed.

I guess I’m trying to convince myself that I’ve chosen wisely in my pursuit of writing. Here I can survive because it is my oxygen, my blood. My soul.

Thoughts? Advice? Shrink recommendations?

Red, White and Aussie

I was sixteen when my nomadic uncle invited me to visit him and my aunt in Sydney for a few weeks. It was 2003 and the events of 9/11 still loomed vividly in everyone’s mind, but travel has long enthralled me, and going to another country surmounts all else in my mind.

BridgeClimb tour

So I hopped my first commercial flight, solo, to California and then Australia.

The experience provides a foundational shift into my adult self, as much of my writing (both fiction and non-) reflects, but it also created a homely sort of love in my soul for the country. This and other reasons (my insanity, perhaps?) can somewhat explain why I often slip into a mixed British/Aussie accent, why anything relating to the place automatically piques my interest regardless of what it is, and why I enjoy discombobulating people with my half-adopted slang/spelling choices.

I have one novel-in-progress right now that takes my experience, combines it with my imagination, and runs wild with it. It’s a trademark of writers, I believe, that even the smallest, random, most insignificant details can trigger a huge story idea. That’s what happened on my trip Down Under. I remember plain as day: we were in the grocery store and a young male cashier was handling our transaction. My aunt later asked me if I thought he was cute. Innocent, insignificant. Yet what comes of it? A story about a girl who becomes best friends with a guy on her holiday in Oz. I promise there’s more to it than that, but as I’ve only finally made it through its first rough draft (thank you, NaNo!) these six years later, I’m still tweaking the finer points.

the image I wrote about

In the meantime, Oz continues to captivate me with its existence and its cultures. Australia Day is celebrated on the 26th—which technically is tomorrow, but over there tomorrow is today… confused yet? O_o As I said, my trip to Oz inspires much of my writing, and it’s because of a class in composition that I learned about the holiday. The assignment: describe how a chosen photo represents patriotism. Typical me, I wanted to avoid anything 9/11-related because I knew the whole class would do that and I wanted to be different. From there came the idea of combining my interests with my academics to show that Americans aren’t the only ones who display patriotism, and the term doesn’t always coincide with war. So I found a photo of Aussies being patriotic…and now I want some vegemite.

http://www.askoxford.com/concise_oed/discombobulate?view=uk