Writing Advice: What Is A Protagonist? (Part 1)

And more importantly, how do you write a good one?

The first thing to note is that the protagonist of a story is not always the same as the viewpoint character, or even the main character. They can, of course, be the same character (like in The Hunger Games), but not always. Often these three terms are confused and defined synonymously, but there is a subtle difference between them.

The veiwpoint character is the one who is telling the story, regardless of whether it is told in first-person or third-person, while the main character is the character the story is focussed on. In the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Watson narrates the story, making him the viewpoint character, while Holmes is the main character. In George Orwell's Animal Farm, there is no viewpoint character at all - the POV is omniscient, as if the author is narrating the story - and the main character is Napoleon.

The protagonist, however, differs in one significant way: it is the character who possesses the most willpower. He must have a strong and conscious desire, more prominent than any other character's, that drives him to act throughout the story - although, sometimes, the desire causes the protagonist to be inactive.

In the Greek tragedy, Antigone, by Sophocles, the main character of the story is Creon, the King of the city Thebes, as it focusses on his downfall. The protagonist, however, is his niece, Antigone, who desires to bury her deceased and treasonous brother (thus showing his memory respect). As it happens, Creon is also the antagonist of the story, because he is the one who gets in the protagonist's way.

So. I'm glad we have that sorted.

One thing to remember about writing a protagonist is that he must always have the capacity to pursue, and then obtain, his object of desire. He does't have to reach his goal, but he must be able to. The reason for this is that a reader will not connect with a character who doesn't have any chance of succeeding, because no-one wants to believe that their own desires are unachievable. We carry hope until the end. In this way, a character with impossible goals is not empathetic. And, plus, why would we waste our time on someone who is literally hopeless?

This, among many others, is one reason why I dislike Holden from The Catcher in the Rye. His desire is impossible: to cling onto his childhood forever and help others to do the same. While this goal shows insight into his character, it frustrates me in terms of story, because he would never actually to be able to achieve it. And even if he could, he probably wouldn't do anything about it (because, hey, it's Holden Caulfield).

In short, a protagonist differs from other characters because he or she has a desire that is achievable prominent in the development of the story.

Stay tuned for part two. ... (Oh, and you may have noticed that I am posting again after a much-too-long hiatus. I know, I'm awesome.)

Writing Advice: Inspiring Dialogue

Have you ever come across dialogue that is meant to be inspiring, but just isn't?

Whether it was in a novel, film, play, TV show, short story, or whatever, you found yourself cringing. The line (or monologue - which is even worse) was supposed to be wise and motivational, a deep insight into life, but the way it came out made you think, Puh-lease, this is so lame. No one would ever say that in real life - it's so cliché!

I'll give you an example from Eragon by Christopher Paolini (and this is one of the few criticisms I'll make of it because it's one of my favourite books). This monologue comes from Eragon's wise-guy uncle:

"First, let no one rule your mind or body. Take special care that your thoughts remain unfettered. One may be a free man and yet be bound tighter than a slave. Give men your ear, but not your heart. Show respect for those in power, but don't follow them blindly. Judge with logic and reason, but comment not. ..."

And that's only half of it.

Of course, these are all great messages that Paolini expresses, profound and true. But do they connect with us? Not really, no, because this kind of self-aware insight is rarely found in real life. No-one I know would ever speak like that, and if they did, I'd have to stifle hysterical laughter.

So how does a writer express his or her ideas, viewpoints and life lessons without stating them blatantly? Through story. Through events and turning points and character responses. Every time we write, we are showing the reader what we think life is like. "This is my perception. This is my vision of the world, and the nature of the people who inhabit it. This is what these people would do under these circumstances for these reasons."

Story is a metaphor for life. It's a vessel through which readers become emotionally attached to an idea. You could tell someone of the repulsiveness of teen violence, or they could read the Hunger Games. Which do you think would leave them more convicted? You could have a character say, "There's always hope," or you could show it by having your protagonist achieve his or her goal despite the immense odds stacked against them. Again, which would connect to the reader more?

When it comes down to it, it's a question of showing or telling.

And of course, there is a place for telling. There is a place inspiring dialogue - JRR Tolkien was especially good at using it. But if you use it too much, or in the wrong way, it ends up having the opposite effect.

So, as a rule of thumb, let telling dialogue compliment your showing. Express yourself first and foremost through events and character - and if you need dialogue to finish the job, go for it.

Writing Advice: Making Change Meaningful

I'm studying The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger in my English class at the moment, and one of the things that annoys me about the book is that there's not plot. Nothing. Zip, zilch, nil. The whole thing is made up of the ramblings and insight of a delusional 50's teenager as he goes about his life.

Sure, it's packed with fantastic symbolism and great characterisation, and there's even a chain of events. But the story is so lacking that I wouldn't dare call it a story at all.

Truth is, a chain of events does not make a story, and nor does simply change. There are changes all through The Catcher in the Rye, for example when the protagonist, Holden, runs away to New York from his prestigious boarding high school (which he hates). But this change isn't meaningful, and nor are any of the others - which is a problem considering that it is meaningful changes that create story.

For a change to be meaningful, it must be expressed in terms of a story value. Story values do not refer to virtues or morals, although they include them. Robert McKee writes in Story* that, rather, they are "the universal qualities of human experience that may shift from positive to negative, or negative to positive, from one moment to the next."

This means that one or more themes, if you like, must switch to their opposite. For example, freedom/captivity (positive/negative) is a story value, and can be used to create meaningful change when a character's experience moves from one side of the coin to the other - when they are freed from captivity or captured from freedom. Love/hate is also a story value, and so is justice/injustice, loyalty/betrayal, peace/unrest, hope/despair ...

... You get the picture.

So, if we look back at the change of Holden leaving his school, what story value switch(es) could we possibly apply? Loyalty to betrayal? There was never loyalty in the first place. Self-righteousness to guilt? He's always felt guilty about his lack of motivation in school. Captivity to freedom? Holden probably sees it this way, but reader doesn't buy it. After all, Holden's cynical perspective is not exclusively directed towards his school, but rather towards the whole world. So while he remains within his own mind, he'll never be free.

Hm. No meaningful change there.

The point is, in every scene of every good story there will always be a reversal in one or more story values. If not, why is the scene there? What does it achieve? Like all the scenes in The Catcher in the Rye, it may be exposition and character perspectives. But these can be worked into scenes that involve meaningful change. It may be difficult, but it's not impossible.

And finally, I'll leave Robert McKee with the last word, because he is pretty much a whole bunch of awesomesauce rolled into a ball of more awesomesauce: "No scene that doesn't turn. This is our ideal."

*There's a reason why I mention this book so often in my posts. Seriously, it's the best $35 I've ever spent.