Mr. McGuffin’s Christmas Carol

A Romantic Hero from Mr McGuffin may be a bit vague

by Tara Sparling

It’s Christmas Eve in Mr. McGuffin’s Plot Device and Writer Unblocking Emporium, and the end of a very busy season indeed. Writers queued outside the shop for weeks to avail of Mr McGuffin’s festive offer of a discounted shock plot twist with a free happy ending.

Proprietor MR McGUFFIN is serving his last customer of the day when the door bursts open. He looks up in surprise from the magical realism remote control he is wrapping for a nervous-looking writer with an imminent deadline.

A ridiculously handsome man marches up to the counter and folds his arms. He is wearing black tuxedo trousers and bow tie, no shirt, and a fireman’s helmet. It is ROMANTIC HERO, and he’s not happy.

***

ROMANTIC HERO: A word, McGuffin.

MR MCGUFFIN: I’m sorry, I don’t think I know you, Mr—?

ROMANTIC HERO: You know damn well who I am, McGuffin. I’m Romantic Hero. You sold sixteen of me last week.

MR MCGUFFIN: Now that you say it, you do look familiar.

ROMANTIC HERO: Familiar, he says. The cheek! He’s the reason I’m in this mess, and he says I’m familiar!

MR MCGUFFIN: Sorry? What have I done?

Romantic Hero notices the nervous-looking writer for the first time, and smiles at her. She faints.

MR MCGUFFIN: Now look here, you can’t do that to my good customers!

ROMANTIC HERO: Look at me! Look at what I’m wearing! Not to mention the fact that it’s the middle of winter, and I’m bloody freezing with no shirt on!

MR MCGUFFIN: But what’s that got to do with me?

ROMANTIC HERO: You’ve been selling the same thing for years to every writer who came into this shop looking for a romantic male lead. That was bad enough, but now it’s worse, with you expecting me to be all the clichés at the same time. Last week you sold me as a firefighter and a billionaire playboy with deep family trauma and a vaguely aristocratic lineage, all at once!

MR McGUFFIN: Oh, dear.  Don’t know what happened there. I wouldn’t usually sell them together.

ROMANTIC HERO: But that’s not the half of it. Why do I have to be so two-dimensional? Where’s my character arc? My depth, my motive for falling in love? I’m sick of having all my issues pinned on my difficult relationship with my mother–slash–father, for starters!

MR McGUFFIN:  Well, you can’t deny that it works, Mr – er – Hero. Difficult relationships with one’s parents have been the driving force of 88.7% of both romantic and crime fiction plots since 1967.

Romantic Hero sulks

ROMANTIC HERO: Doesn’t make it right.

MR McGUFFIN: I myself had a very difficult relationship with my father which almost resulted in me taking up taxidermy, rather than fictional retailing.

ROMANTIC HERO: But that’s so interesting! Why couldn’t you sell a bit more meat like that in my story? I’m just so vague! I don’t even like anything in particular, I just go around scowling until I find somebody to fall in love with! And my only hobby is my job!

MR McGUFFIN: Well, I did try a line of specific narrative arcs for romantic stereotypes back in 2007, and book sales plummeted. I do sympathise. But I stand behind the products I sell. And you can’t deny that you are without question the most successful character stereotype in the market in decades.

ROMANTIC HERO: [grudingingly] I am.

MR McGUFFIN: Not to mention ridiculously handsome.

Romantic Hero grunts and rakes his hands through his hair, drawing attention to his bulging biceps.

MR McGUFFIN: I’d really like for us to continue to work together and keep this successful partnership going. And in the meantime, I promise to look out for something meaty, but not too specific for you. A dead twin. Sleepwalking. An endearing ability to make balloon animals. Something like that.

ROMANTIC HERO: And a shirt? Can you sell me with a shirt next time?

MR McGUFFIN: Why, of course! After all, you have to put one on, to take it off.

ROMANTIC HERO: Okay. Fine. But I’m warning you, McGuffin – any more lazy sales,  and I’m going to come down here and faint all your customers away.

MR McGUFFIN: Fair enough. Now, would you mind taking away the customer you already knocked out?

Romantic Hero lifts the still-unconscious writer off the floor with ease and spirits her out of the shop.

The door has barely closed when it slams open again, accompanied by the jaded notes of a slow saxophone.

A man enters. He wears a thick cable-knit sweater, trench coat, trilby hat, and wellingtons. It’s CRIME NOVEL COP, and guess what? He’s not happy.

CRIME NOVEL COP: You are Mr McGuffin?

MR McGUFFIN: Well deduced, sir. How can I help you?

Crime Novel Cop takes a battered notebook and pencil from his pocket and flips through the pages with maddening slowness. Mr. McGuffin sighs, and counts. Sure enough, Crime Novel Cop stops at page 53 and reads for a moment before speaking again.

CRIME NOVEL COP: I have reason to believe that on three occasions last week, you sold stock characters for crime fiction novels which were identical in every respect.

MR McGUFFIN: What? I never!

CRIME NOVEL COP: [reading] Names of Sven Karaktersson; Antonio Motivelli and Paula Lamurdaire?

MR McGUFFIN: They’re mine, yes. But I strongly disagree they’re identical in every respect.

Crime Novel Cop raises a sceptical eyebrow at Mr McGuffin before turning back to his notebook.

CRIME NOVEL COP: Sven Karaktersson, 45. Weary detective on a Scandinavian peninsula. A single parent, navigating a fraught relationship with his teenage daughter, whilst single-handedly dealing with an inconceivably large number of murders in his remote corner of the world.

MR McGUFFIN: Very popular guy, Sven.

CRIME NOVEL COP: Antonio Motivelli, 49. A weary detective living in one of New York’s least gentrified boroughs. A single parent navigating a fraught relationship with his teenage daughter whilst dealing with an inconceivably high number of murders involving people he actually knows.

MR McGUFFIN: Exactly. No resemblance whatsoever to Sven!

CRIME NOVEL COP: And then we have Paula Lamurdaire, 39. A weary detective, once based in Paris, but now crossing an inconceivably large number of European country borders to investigate jurisdiction-defying homicides. Paula has a fraught relationship with her young son, who wants to live with his rich father and his uncomplicated and attractive new wife.

MR McGUFFIN: What could you possibly have against Paula?

Crime Novel Cop stares Mr. McGuffin straight in the eye and blinks, slowly.

CRIME NOVEL COP: I have nothing against any of them, McGuffin. The question is: what have you got against us?

MR McGUFFIN: Us?

CRIME NOVEL COP: Crime Novel Cops. We have brains, don’t we? To solve cases with?

MR McGUFFIN: Of course!

CRIME NOVEL COP: And we have problems, too. Families. Addictions. Insomnia.

MR McGUFFIN: There’s a lot of that around, yes.

CRIME NOVEL COP: Many of us have hidden talents. I myself can recite Aristotle, Cicero and Confucius.

MR McGUFFIN: Very impressive. But I don’t see where you’re going with this.

CRIME NOVEL COP: Surely there’s scope to sell crime novel cops with a bit more originality?

MR McGUFFIN: I beg your pardon. All my crime novel cops are 100% original.

CRIME NOVEL COP: They are not, McGuffin, and you know it.

MR McGUFFIN: But – but – Paula’s a woman!

CRIME NOVEL COP: Not enough, McGuffin. A gender switch in the name of token balance isn’t sufficient for originality. Besides, almost 30% of fictional detectives are women these days.

MR McGUFFIN: And Sven! Sven lives in Scandinavia!

CRIME NOVEL COP: Location doesn’t define a character any more than dress does. I should know. What the hell is my outfit supposed to be? You can’t mix Scandi noir with 1950s classic! And what are these wellingtons supposed to represent?

Mr McGuffin is a little ashamed

MR MCGUFFIN::British cosy mystery.

CRIME NOVEL COP: [darkly] I should arrest you for that alone.

MR McGUFFIN: Not my finest hour, I’ll admit.

CRIME NOVEL COP: Listen to me, McGuffin. I admire you for sticking to your story, but I want you to imagine for a moment that you are appearing in front of a jury.

MR McGUFFIN: [curious] Okay.

CRIME NOVEL COP: You’re on the stand, and you’ve been sworn in. The most important question in the entire case has just been asked. And that question is – can you prove that these three characters are not so similar to each other as to be almost indistinguishable?

MR McGUFFIN: May I ask one question first?

CRIME NOVEL COP: Fine.

MR McGUFFIN: What was it that Confucius said about gaining wisdom?

CRIME NOVEL COP: [thinking] That wisdom may be learned in three ways. First, by reflection, which is noblest; second, by imitation, which is easiest—

He pauses for a moment

— okay. I see what you’re getting at.

MR McGUFFIN: Not everything has to be difficult, is what I’m saying. Sometimes, we learn best from what’s most familiar to us.

CRIME NOVEL COP: You do have a point.

MR McGUFFIN: So how about we make a deal. I’ll try to sell more quirks and individual talents – the Confucius angle is working well for you, isn’t it? And you try to make more of them. Because most of the time, it’s about how the character behaves, isn’t it? Not who the character is.

CRIME NOVEL COP: You know, you’d make a great lawyer.

MR McGUFFIN: Now that’s another story.

CRIME NOVEL COP: We have a deal. Enjoy your evening.

Crime Novel Cop leaves, whistling.

On the way out he bumps into CHICK-LIT HEROINE, causing the contents of her handbag – most of which are embarrassing in some respect – to scatter all over the floor of the shop. Still, this doesn’t dampen her customarily bubbly mood, because Chick-Lit Heroine is never truly unhappy except very briefly on pages 273-275 (when she’s lost everything, but unbeknownst to her, her entire life is about to turn around, giving her everything she ever wanted).

***

CHICK-LIT HEROINE: Oh, my stars!

MR McGUFFIN: Oh, my God. I can’t take much more of this. [running to help her] Are you all right? Wow! That’s a lot of chocolate wrappers and champagne corks.

CHICK-LIT HEROINE: [giggling] I had a bit of a snaxccident on the way here. Ate my entire daily calorie allowance in six minutes. [rushing to qualify] Not that I have an eating disorder. That would be a bit too rich for my blood.

MR McGUFFIN: So how can I help you? Please don’t tell me you’re annoyed with your character too.

CHICK-LIT HEROINE: Not at all! In fact, I’m here to thank you.

MR McGUFFIN: Pardon?

CHICK-LIT HEROINE: In fact, I want to thank you for putting me back in fashion.

She holds up her Louis Vuitton handbag and points to the various other designer labels adorning her curvy and yet simultaneously slender form.

Literally!

MR McGUFFIN: Really?

CHICK-LIT HEROINE: Yes! You sold so many of me last week, I’ve never felt so validated, or loved! I’m having a ball. Plus, I basically own Hallmark Christmas movies now.

MR McGUFFIN: You’re not here to complain about stereotyping, or a lack of depth?

CHICK-LIT HEROINE: Nope.

MR McGUFFIN: You don’t want better development, more originality, or different clothes?

CHICK-LIT HEROINE: Are you kidding? In these threads?

MR McGUFFIN: And you’re not annoyed with the same storylines?

CHICK-LIT HEROINE: Nah. You know, people constantly underestimate me, which is kind of my superpower. And I’ve always been super-savvy when it comes to business.

MR McGUFFIN: True.

CHICK-LIT HEROINE: I might be fixated on my small town origins at times, but with a few clever tweaks in my troublesome job or the family circumstances of my hilarious best friends, most readers don’t care I pretty much have the same story all the time. I make them feel warm and fuzzy, and that’s all that matters.

MR McGUFFIN: Agreed.

CHICK-LIT HEROINE: Not to mention I’m also genuinely funny too, at times.

MR McGUFFIN: Well, you always were one of my favourites.

Chick-Lit Heroine runs to him and plants a kiss on his cheek.

CHICK-LIT HEROINE: So I just wanted to wish you and your writers and readers all a very, very Merry Christmas. May all your labels be designer, and may you all live happily ever after.

MR McGUFFIN: [brushing a tear from his eye] And the same to you, my dear. You’re the reason I’m here, after all. God bless us, everyone!

Chick-Lit Heroine leaves in a tinkle of silver bells, bubbles and hiccups. Mr. McGuffin stays right where he is… which is where every writer needs him to be.

THE END

by Tara Sparling (@TaraSparling) December 12, 2021

What about you, scriveners? Have you ever shopped at Mr. McGuffin’s emporium? Have you read any books recently that seem to have been purchased from Mr. McGuffin? What are your pet peeves when it comes to cliched tropes? 

And check out Tara Sparling’s post on why you shouldn’t live with a fictional romantic hero during a pandemic. 

About Tara Sparling

Tara Sparling writes fiction and screenplays, and lives in Ireland. Her blog explores bestselling book statistics and trends, and humour with a bookish angle, including literary genre and character stereotypes (just like this one).

She has won blog awards for being new, being bookish and being funny, and her fiction has also been shortlisted in several national competitions. Besides her blog, she can be found hiding (poorly) behind @TaraSparling on Twitter.