by Anne R. Allen
In a workshop I attended recently, several people criticized an author’s work because they didn’t approve of the way the protagonist behaved. They thought the character was morally deficient.
First, this wasn’t good critiquing. It’s not the critiquer’s job to make moral judgements about another author’s characters. A novel full of paragons of virtue would be a snoozefest. Readers are bored by perfect characters, who are derided as “Mary Sues.”
In fact, author Lincoln Michel made the argument recently that protagonist-narrators should never be morally upright, perfect people. Instead they should be weird and strange, because perfection is boring.
He feels that contemporary American literature has seen a decrease in the weirdness, freakiness, and nastiness of characters, and that makes for boring reading.
Also, characters need arcs, and they can’t grow and change if they don’t have any flaws that need changing.
Are Our Fictional Characters Ourselves?
But there was something else afoot in that workshop situation. It was obvious the author was personally hurt, and I could see her stiffen and shut down as the criticism escalated. It was as if she herself were being criticized, and it was obvious she was not benefitting from the critique.
I could relate. I’ve felt that way about some critiques. But I welcome other negative critiques as helpful and useful. I realized that happens when the criticism feels personal — when it feels as if the work is not the subject of criticism, but the author as a person.
I think when critiquers make negative judgements about a fictional character, the author feels as if they’ve been personally attacked.
Fictional Characters Take on a Life of Their Own
When I talked to the criticized author later, she said she’d felt the need to defend her fictional character, as if she were a real person — a friend. “I can’t change how she behaves,” the author said, “that’s who she is.”
I realized that’s exactly how I feel about my major characters. They are friends. This is especially true of characters in a series, I think. We live with these people in our heads for years and they become almost as real to us as actual family members.
As we get to know them, they take on their own quirks and opinions that may not be our own. We are more like actors inhabiting a character — or I suppose the characters inhabit us. But we can’t always control them.
Sometimes, I’ll need my protagonist to do something to further the plot, but she simply won’t do it. I think that’s what happened to my author friend who got the negative critiques. The critiquers wanted the character to behave the way they would. But the character wouldn’t do it. There were more lessons to experience in her character arc.
How Do You Feel About Your Protagonist?
Readers sometimes assume fiction is autobiographical. But it’s often the opposite. We’re often amused when people expect us to be like our protagonists. Comedy writer Melodie Campbell tells how she disappointed a group of fans of her Rowena comedy-fantasy trilogy when she arrived for a speaking engagement and looked nothing like the young buxom heroine, Rowena.
In fact, I’d say most popular fiction authors create protagonists who are unlike ourselves. A thriller hero is often an alienated loner with near super-powers like Jack Reacher, and a classic mystery protagonist can be a vain dandy like Hercule Poirot, or a self-effacing nobody like Miss Marple. But nobody expected Agatha Christie to be vain or a mousey old lady. And I’m sure Lee Child doesn’t pretend to have superpowers.
I myself wrote my Camilla Randall character to be the opposite of me. She’s an over-privileged fashionista with perfect manners. Throughout the series, she grows and changes as she loses her money and learns a lot about what really matters in life, but she always does so using the right fork. Personally, I’d probably use my fingers.
And yet these characters are ourselves, in a way. They come from some place inside us, so they’re like our children. We love them, for all their quirks.
In fact, sometimes we fall in love. The letters of Dorothy L. Sayers show she was more than a little in love with her aristocratic sleuth, Lord Peter Wimsey.
The Rise in Popularity of Autofiction
Author Lincoln Michel made the argument that one reason contemporary American literature has seen a decrease in the weirdness, freakiness, and nastiness of characters is the rise of “autofiction.” He thinks more of us are writing thinly veiled autobiography.
That’s what the critiquers in the workshop were expecting. They didn’t think the author’s protagonist should be so unlike the author.
But I think even when we create characters who aren’t remotely like ourselves, we still feel protective of them. We still love them, like wayward children. And I think that’s what makes readers find them likeable enough to read about.
A flawed character written with love is simply more compelling and interesting than a stereotypical character who always makes the right choices and does the right thing. Readers aren’t going to like somebody who goes around kicking puppies, but they can like a guy who rips off his stingy boss so he can feed a stray puppy.
Autofiction can create a lot of Mary Sues — boring characters who are unbelievably good.
And our goal is to entertain, so I think Mr. Michel is right that we need to create more characters who are quirky and weird, and in no way like ourselves. But we can still love them.
By Anne R. Allen (@annerallen) January 21, 2024
What about you, scriveners? Do you fall in love with your fictional characters? Do you write about people like yourself, or create characters who are totally unlike you? Do you prefer to read about morally upright characters, or ones with major flaws?
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Featured image Otto Baditz, Couple in Love. Public Domain
Hi Anne,
No doubt about it, I fall in love with my characters: protagonists, sidekicks, even those who pop in for a chapter or three & vanish. Even antagonists. Perhaps by lovingly crafting flawed characters authors are modeling a healthier way to view the world. Wouldn’t the world be a better place if we could all read the news & manage to see the humanity of everyone — even the morally adrift.
CS–I guess I love my antagonists, too. Maybe I’m not “in love” with them, but it’s good to have something loveable about them. I think some authors fall in love with antagonists. Emily Bronte certainly did with Heathcliff.
Absolutely, I fall in love with all of my characters. Whether they pop in for a short period or take on entire story arcs, I love them all. One thing I do not do is write them like myself. The majority of my male characters are usually a mixture of bad@ss and Walter Mitty, while virtually all of my female characters are really composites of traits that I have admired in all of my friends, work colleagues etc. In no way, shape or form do I write them like a typical “Mary Sue”, even as a throwaway. If I’m doing a throwaway, I’ll use an exaggerated trope of the character.
Sometimes, amoral characters are the way to go.
GB–It sounds as if you really agree with Lincoln Michel, and will write more weird, quirky characters. According to him, you’re giving the reading public what they really want.
Nope. They do what I need them to do to create a great story. Period. Sorry about that. But not really. Fiction writers need to be tough minded or else they’re boring. And who needs that?
Ruth–That’s an interesting view from the other side. We need to be tough, but can we all duke it out with our characters? I’m not sure.
A comment I received from a reader of my second novel was that the two main characters – a man and a woman – sounded a lot alike. I know this can be a problem for some authors, “newbies” in particular. But this situation was partly my intent – my characters are psychically linked from birth, but never meet until they are in their 30s (which is where the story starts), and over the course of the novel, their psychic paths run parallel and then merge. In effect, they are soul twins, so of course they will share similar traits, including thought and speech patterns.
And where do some of our characters come from? Who knows? The grandfather in my first novel is a complete fabrication, and quite a character in his own right.
I wonder sometimes if characters don’t already exist in the ethersphere, just waiting for the right writer to come along to tell their stories. I know that my characters will not play with me if I try to make them do things that are out of character for them. I have to work it out with them and we must agree on the path of action before we can proceed, if we have been at odds with each other.
Who’s to say that the spirits of fictional characters don’t exist? I’m no expert. William Faulkner once explained that he wrote his stories by following his characters around and writing down what they did and said, like a scribe.
Sally–I love the idea that our characters already exist in the ethersphere, and they’re just waiting for us to come along and tell their story. That really works as a metaphor for how some of my characters came to be in my head. That’s a great story about Faulkner. When I’m “in the zone” that’s how I feel. I just write down what they say. I’d say that critique you got was from somebody who didn’t get the premise of the story. If they were two halves of the same entity, they would have to sound alike. I have the same problem with readers who don’t understand that my books are comedies. “She makes terrible decisions and has awful taste in men.” they say. Well, yeah. That’s kind of the point. 🙂
I think we have to love our characters to do them justice. We get to know them, warts and all, down to their very soul. If we don’t love them it comes through in the writing.
I agree they have to have flaws in order to grow or change perspective. Sometimes that relates to what a character wants vs what they need. It brings the internal conflict to a story.
I like a character who’s inappropriate at times according to societal norms. It can add humor or a chance to get out of the hot water they just stepped into.
Perhaps we all model our characters after people we’ve met. The snob, pretender, salt of the earth, the kind and not so kind. It adds a touch of realism.
We often have to love our antagonist or at least understand them, not for what they do but their reasons for doing what they do, no matter how delusional.
Side characters need some love too. It’s kind of nice when a reader says they love so and so, but they want to know more about a side character. It’s an opportunity to write another book.
In real life, a goody goody person is boring. And not usually well liked. And also in RL, girls fall for the bad guy. I guess it’s a throwback to instinctively wanting a strong man to protect the family.
My characters aren’t like me, but many are as I would like to be. Strong, feisty, or wise. Or all three.
Vivienne–You’re right. “Perfect” people are boring in real life as well as on the page. And oh, boy do women like bad boys. I fell for an amazing number of them in my youth. That’s the one thing my sleuth Camilla and I have in common–an affinity for Mr. Wrong.
The male protagonist of my two Just Lucky novels is the person I wish I was, except for his major physical handicap. He is taller, better-looking, athletically gifted, and more diligent than I.
His girlfriend in college was my ideal woman, physically, emotionally, and intellectually. I loved her. But I had her murdered, and horribly. When asked why, I answered, (shrug) “That’s what happened.” I knew even as I created her that she would be killed, and how and why. But I couldn’t change it. It was like the story was already written, and I was just recording it.
Fred–Oh, isn’t it sad when we have to kill off our most appealing characters? I try not to get too fond of the murder victim. I don’t want readers to be mad at me when I kill them off.
Interesting that you have that experience Faulkner talked about. The story is already there. You’re just the scribe writing it down. I only get that feeling some of the time. But it’s wonderful to be “in the flow” like that.
I agree with everything in this post. I had someone read the book I just finished writing and she didn’t like the way one of the characters acted in her abusive relationship because she didn’t leave the guy immediately. I tried to explain that I wrote the book with a character who was trying to get “out” of her abusive relationship and that thousands of women unfortunately find themselves in this position. Instead of rooting for the character when she tries to extricate herself from the situation, my reader was irritated that she was in the relationship in the first place. Oh well … sorry not every character is perfect … I try to introduce flawed characters because that’s the way of the world.
Patricia–Oh my. That’s the worst kind of critique. Anybody who knows about domestic violence knows women (and sometimes men) stay in relationships that are dangerous. That’s reality. Good fiction is descriptive, not prescriptive. Books about perfect people with no problems would be snoozerific.
The female lead character in my practice novel grew into someone I cared about. She fell in love with a new man after her husband died and it led to all kinds of drama with her family and friends, including a major falling out with her daughter. I put her through a lot of bad stuff and it really made me care for her almost as if she was real.
Rich–We are pretty awful to our characters, aren’t we? But that’s how you get a story. That practice novel character may resurface in another book. I’ve had that happen. A familiar character just strides in and I have to deal with her.
Hi Anne – thanks for the mention! I still smile at that confrontation. One of them said, “You don’t look anything like your protagonist.” So I said to her (and the audience) “Sweetheart, not only that, I don’t look anything like my author photo!!” That got a laugh. I have found, over 30 years of teaching, that most new writers put themselves into their books as the protagonist. But after a book or two, the fun, I tell them, is to write about someone else! Put YOURSELF into the skin of a character that isn’t like you, and write their story. You get to experience a different life than your own! I do this again and again, and love it.
Melodie–I think you’ve hit on something. Beginners write about themselves, and as we become pros, we learn to write about other people. My career didn’t take off until I wrote Food of Love, where one of the main characters is a religious conservative of a different race from mine and the other is a beautiful model-turned-princess. Not exactly me. 🙂 But I learned a lot writing them.
So we have to wonder, do good girls look for bad boys, or do bad boys prey on good girls. That is, do bad boys offer something girls are longing for… attention, thrill, escape?? Without effort they (bad boys) beacon attention from those fascinated by soulful adventure.
Love your post..
Londie–I have been asking myself that question for years! Did I attract bad boys by being a people-pleaser? Or was I drawn to them because they were so different from me? And yes, I know I was seeking adventure.
This totally resonates with me. I love the characters in my first novel and really identify with them. I’ve just got some beta reader feedback which commented that there is too much of myself in the characters – I’m shamelessly in the two main characters plus a few minor ones.
Perhaps that’s the way it goes with your first novel – there are so many personal quirks that you’ve been living with for years that they can’t help but burst out onto the page and into your characters. I’ll try to tame the worse excesses of that in subsequent drafts.
Tim–Thanks! I think you followed the pattern Melodie Campbell talks about with beginning novelists. You put your whole self into those characters. Some people make the mistake of creating characters that are perfected versions of themselves, and the end up with Mary Sues, but putting all your own personal quirks into a character can make for fun reading. Later we learn to put other people’s quirks into our characters. 🙂
Having these two characters’ “storylines” or personalities come together was some of the toughest writing I’ve ever done. In the end, they remain separate entities, of course (this wasn’t fantasy, although obviously there are paranormal facets here), but their mindsets are in tune with each other. In some ways, like the Corsican Brothers, one of whose thumb hurts when the other strikes his with a hammer.
Sally–That’s an interesting challenge to take on. If you have made it believable in the context of your story, it sounds like a great premise.
I can’t say I’m in love with my characters, but I do like them. A lot. I admire many of them, laugh at some, and pity others. But they all have one characteristic that amazes me: they say and do things I didn’t expect from them. I think my best writing happens when the characters take over the story, and like Faulkner, I follow them around and write down what happens.
Kay–I think that’s when writing is the most fun. When the characters take over.
I absolutely fall head over heels!! I’ve only recently learned to make them less perfect, load them up with flaws and self-doubt, like the rest of us. That’s when the fun starts.
Yvonne–Yes! That’s when the fun starts–for the reader as well as the author.
I think, there is much truth in fiction. 🙂
Good fiction is founded on truth. That’s why we read it so avidly, so we can learn different ways of learning life’s lessons.
Debby and Sally–I think there’s often more truth in fiction than nonfiction. The author usually isn’t trying to make a point or persuade people. We just tell stories the way they come to us.
I love becoming invested in the characters, as a reader and newbie writer. And yes, sometimes I do fall in love, co-dependently I’m sure, as that’s my style. 🙂
Ellen–I guess some of us do become co-dependent, enabling our characters to make those bad decisions. 🙂
I don’t fall in love with my characters, but I do know them like friends. Psychologically damaged friends, yes. But that’s where they need to start the story in order to grow.
Deborah–That’s the thing–To grow and change, a character needs to have some qualities that need changing!
Man, did you nail it with this post, Anne! I am so in love with my anti-hero. My husband knows it too. A while back, he said, “If Mayhem walked through the door, would you sleep with him?”
Didn’t even have to think about it. “Hundred percent.”
I’m not alone. Many reviewers make comments like, “Never thought I could love a killer, but here we are.” LOL In their defense, he’s killing poachers, trophy hunters, and animal traffickers. Do they count?
Sue–Ooooh it sounds like you’ve created a Dexter-like character. That’s good writing, when you can create a character who’s doing bad things, but the reader is still rooting for him.
I don’t think I fall in love with my characters, but I do come to love them as friends. (Maybe not the villains. Even they pull on my heartstrings once I know where they’re coming from.)
After receiving an insightful comment from one of my beta readers, who said that I’d made my main character ‘too good,’ I began to realize that part of my problem was the sense of attachment I felt towards them. What to do?
I discovered that much of the answer lay the flaws I invested them with. Well chosen flaws can lead the character into trouble in an almost organic way. I don’t feel as if I’m being ‘mean’ to them. They’re doing it to themselves.
As a SFF writer, I do fall in love with the worlds I create. When a book is finished, I long to get back to that world. Maybe that’s part of why series exist.
I can totally empathize with the critique group writer you spoke of. I’ve been that person, too. I bet we all have. It took me a long time to realize that not all critiques are made equal, and that not every critique is a skillful one. (And that maybe I should ask for the type of feedback that I think would be most useful, rather than leaving it up to the group.)
A woman in my town started up a critique group in late 2016, when she discovered a significant lack of such a group in our area. We are a bit too far from both Boston and Lawrence to be convenient for local authors to attend groups in those cities regularly. This critique group has been very successful, because my friend was very careful to establish the ground rules from the very beginning. And no dues!
A few of our regulars joined us after having been burned by one of the Boston critique groups, where the leader ruled with an iron fist and a nasty temperament. Participants there were privileged to pay dues for the abuse. This leader, also a visual arts artist, even fancied herself a book-cover designer, and when one of her victims saw the morbid designs the woman had come up with for the victim’s joyful book, the victim cut all ties with that group. I met the victim a short time later and we have become fast friends and critique group partners. (She’s also coordinating our senior writing workshops in our town and a neighboring one.) When she described her experience with the nasty critique group leader and her grim designs, without naming names, I knew exactly who she was talking about! I offered to play with some designs for her book cover (I have Adobe Photoshop) and came up with one she liked very much. My pay for the work? The canvas tote bag she had with lighthouses printed on it – I have lots of lighthouse-keeper ancestors.
Relationships and respect are often of far more value than cold cash.
Sally–“An iron fist and a nasty temperament” are not good qualities in a teacher of anything. I tend to be skeptical of writing groups that charge money. If the teacher isn’t a successful, well-known writer, they can act like tyrants to show their “authority”, which should come from credentials, not attitude. You’re so right that good relationships and respect are what matter in establishing a career.
Linda–You make an important point here: ask for the kind of critique you want. Often people have their own agendas or triggers that make them give an unhelpful critique. But it sounds as if your beta reader was very helpful. I know writers who face the “mean” problem all the time: they’re so fond of their characters they don’t want to be mean to them. So you’ve put it in the right context–the character’s flaws make them do it to themselves.
I like my characters. It seems like most of them have a slice of me in them. But it’s not autobiographical. My protagonist is a woman. She’s a singer (I can’t sing). She’s wealthy (sigh). She cavorts with aliens (alas, I don’t).
Yet she and I share one key trait: insecurity about our creative passion. She’s afraid to sing in public her songs that are most meaningful to her. She scoffs at her own talent. I’m like that with my writing. Over the course of the stories, she regains the passion for her singing. And of course I’ve done that by writing the books.
Mike–Even though most fiction writers aren’t writing “autofiction” we do put our “issues” into our writing, because it’s a very good way to process them. Plus a problem processed and solved provides readers with the kind of satisfactory ending they want. You’re processing your creativity wound through her singing. Very healthy and it probably makes for good reading. I think the “only write what you know” people can steer you wrong. I honestly don’t think Tolkein knew any hobbits, but he wrote about them vividly. Maybe because he knew all about wanting second breakfasts and elevenses because that came from a hungry little part of him.
Thanks, Anne. “Only write what you know” is a bad rule for me, since I write science fiction. My challenge is portraying various aliens so they’re not like a human with a monkey suit on.
I did a good bit of research on the trials and tribulations of musical artists and worked those into my heroine.