Stakes and the inner arc

I've read a few YA novels recently that left me a little cold. As I thought about why, I realized one aspect of all the stories was underdeveloped or nonexistent--the inner journey or emotional arc.

All three protagonists wanted something. On the surface. That desire drove the plot arc. But the inner need behind that desire wasn't addressed. There was no emotional arc.

What's the difference, you might ask. I turn again to one of my favorite resources for these sorts of definitions--Les Edgerton's Hooked.

Edgerton says that a novel develops around two major components, the "surface problem" and the "story-worthy problem." The former is generally a bad situation or quandary that is introduced at the beginning of a novel. The kidnapped sister. The business collapse. Impending bankruptcy. Serious illness. Infertility. That sort of thing. The story-worthy problem is the deeper psychological need that is challenged by the surface problem. The need to feel competent. Worthy of love. Generous rather than grasping, or confident instead of fearful.

The story-worthy problem adds emotional stakes to your work, so that what happens to your characters and the decisions they make actually changes them deeply. If you only work on the level of surface problem, you'll have a surface story. Quality writing puts characters through an emotional growth process that is cathartic and healing for the reader as well.

You find story-worthy problems, Edgerton says, in "that dark place we all have inside and try hardest to deny and ignore" (64). These are areas of vice or weakness that need to change for a character to achieve goals and fully blossom into his or her best self.

Here's an example:
In Sense and Sensibility, Elinor and her family become impoverished after the father dies. The best hope of solving the problem is a wise marriage. But Elinor is so "sensible"--practical, wise, following every rule of propriety-- that she comes across as cold to men. In other words, her virtue has a dark side. She learns to risk loving, even in the face of what seem impossible odds. Hope might not be sensible, but in taking risk, Elinor becomes a more fully human person.

What are some other examples you can think of? How might this distinction help your writing?

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How I Create and Develop Characters

by guest author Tyrean Martinson 

“Shadow Girl” - Photo Credit: Anna Martinson

1.      The character pops into my head, usually after I’ve asked myself a “what if” question about something:

·         What if the victim of bullying is bullied by shunning because of something dangerous he did as a child? (“Seedling”)

·         What if a young swordswoman becomes the unexpected recipient of a blade of power that others think should belong to them? (original prompt for Champion in the Darkness)

·         What if a reluctant young bride has woven protection for herself into her traditional bridal gown? (Current WIP)

2.      The “what if” question creates spin-off questions for me:

·         What did the bullying victim do to be shunned? What if he wanted to change?

·         What if the swordswoman’s country was attacked before she received the blade of power?

·         Why is the bride reluctant? What if she’s being “sold” into a polygamous marriage? What if her wedding party is attacked by bandits?

3.      I start to create character profiles. I don’t worry about getting everything down, but I want to know these areas:

·         Name

·         Family “status” and who their family members are, if that’s important to the story

·         His/her place in their society

·         His/her strengths and at least one weakness

·         His/her heart’s desire in the scope of the story

·         I work on the physical attributes next, but this one stumps me sometimes because my descriptions seemed to start sounding alike from character to character.

As I write the story, I add to the character profiles.

4.      I pick images for my character. I look for:

·         Facial features that stand out

·         Outfits that my character would wear

·         Weapons they might or might not carry - briefcase, backpack, musical instrument or sword?

·         Vehicle they might drive/fly/own/want

“Sunbeam” Photo Credit: Tyrean Martinson

·         General images that might capture how the character sees the world

“Through the Fence” - Photo Credit: Tyrean Martinson

For all of these, I use pinterest and take some of my own photos. I know I’m not great at physical descriptions, so this step has huge importance for me, and I often create collages that I print out and stick to my wall above my desk.

5.      If I’m struggling with a character, I write “out of book” scenes that take me back to his/her childhood, or take me to a scene that would never actually happen in the book. I ask myself more questions along the way:

·         Why does this character hate the color orange? Did that come from a childhood incident of some kind? What other ways did that incident change this character?

·         OR What would a sword-wielding fantasy heroine do if she landed in the local McDonald’s or Starbucks with her best friend? What if she landed there with her enemy? What would she do there and why?

Other variations on how I create and develop characters:

1.      I find a picture first and start asking questions about the person in the image.

2.      I watch a few movies in the same genre and listen for dialogue pacing. (This is an area I hope to expand on in the next year or so since I struggle with creating dialogue.)

  

Tyrean Martinson

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Books (Link goes to Amazon)

Latest Book: Flicker: A Collection of Short Stories and Poetry is an exploration of many characters and their views of the world. 

How do you create and develop characters?

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Escalation: The key to avoiding melodrama

Melodrama. It might make for addictive daytime TV, but it tends to drive readers crazy.

It's a long, slow ride to the top (Photo by kconnors from morguefile.com)

Consider the following melodramatic scenarios:

• Eyes lock across a crowded room and the hero will now spend 300 pages risking his life for a woman he has never spoken to.

• The heroine's boyfriend sees her touch another man's shoulder in a conversation, A page later, he strangles the rival and disembowels him, then sends the organs to the heroine.

• A knee-replacement patient wobbles during physical therapy and has a crying, screaming, furniture-tossing tantrum.

• A destitute single mother receives a million-dollar check from a philanthropist she never met.

What do you notice is a common thread among these scenarios?

Suddenness. Instantaneous action. Emotionally going from 0 to 60 m.p.h. in two seconds flat.

In other words, what tends to convert a dramatic moment into a melodramatic one is lack of preparation.

Consider how each of the above scenarios could be converted from melodrama to drama with some preparation.

Scenario 1

Eyes lock across a crowded room and the hero will now spend 300 pages risking his life for a woman he has never spoken to.

~Eyes lock across a crowded room. That woman looks so much like his dead wife, the one he couldn't save. He'll do anything to atone for his failure on that mountainside.

~Eyes lock across a crowded room. That woman looks so much like his missing sister. Could it really be her? He'll do anything to find out, and to keep her safe.

~Eyes lock across a crowded room. He knows she's had nine drinks so far, and he won't let her out of his sight. Not like he did with his college roommate who didn't live to see graduation.

Backstory, parsed out at key moments, can give some preparation for a character's radical actions.

Alternately, you can use nonlinear narration to give us this moment that seems out of the blue, then gradually reveal how this character's reaction is inevitable, based on previous experiences. 

Finally, you can ratchet down the emotion, so it's not no connection to "die for you" in seconds. More on that with the next scenario....

Scenario 2

The heroine's boyfriend sees her touch another man's shoulder in a conversation. A page later, he strangles the rival  and disembowels him, then sends the organs to the heroine.

The heroine's boyfriend sees her touch another man's shoulder in a conversation. That's her brother, right? he thinks. No wait, who is that guy?

He ponders whether she tends to touch shoulders of anyone she converses with. He gathers data, watching her talk to women, children, men old and young. He notes that she rarely touches anyone but him.

He casually brings up the shoulder-touching incident in conversation with her, not mentioning the touch. "Who were you talking to the other day?"

When she gives an innocent spin on the story, he fears she is lying, and presses back. "You seemed awfully friendly."

Her protestation confirms his fear. The lady doth protest too much, as Hamlet's mom says. My girl is definitely lying.

He becomes fixated on learning more about his rival. Is he married or in a relationship? How long has he known my girlfriend? In what capacity? He asks friends' opinions of the rival.  Googles the rival. Stalks his Facebook page. Any data that confirms his suspicions will be worried over, repeatedly rehearsed.

When the heroine will next be put into contact with the rival, her boyfriend  tries to convince her to change plans. When she refuses to do so, his anxiety increases more. He will try to control her appearance, suggesting she wear more modest clothes, less makeup.

He asks a friend to keep tabs on her while she is in contact with the rival, and to call him if anything seems out of line.

While his friend is spying, the boyfriend torments himself. He imagines the heroine in passionate embraces, hotel trysts, a Vegas wedding chapel. He wonders what he did wrong in their relationship that would drive her to cheat. He re-imagines every happy memory they ever had together and looks for signs that she was somehow unhappy or deceptive.

When the friend reports back that he saw the heroine and rival whispering together in a corner, the boyfriend ups his game once again and begins stalking the heroine, the rival, or both.


I can probably pause here, as you likely see where this is going. Jealous rages do not come out of nowhere. They start from a small suspicious action that is misinterpreted and gradually magnified. The jealous one will work every possible angle to either disprove or prove his suspicions, depending on how trusting vs. insecure he is, or how healthy vs. narcissistic.

Likewise, jealous rages do not become homicidal in nature until the one cheated on slowly but inevitably comes to the end of his rope. He will try all kinds of other methods to part the lovers or protect his own feelings before he will resort to murder.

Skipping the long arc of emotional escalation will always feel unrealistic and melodramatic.

Your MUST slow it down. Think escalator, not bullet train. The increase in "height" (intensity) should be gradual. 

Dissect the emotion. Think through how suspicion becomes worry becomes paranoia becomes jealous heat becomes anger becomes rage. 

Too fast emotional escalation is one of the key problems I see in beginning writers. If you want to improve your craft, make it your mission to understand HOW emotions escalate. 

• Study books and films that do it well and analyze how they did it. 
• Read psychology books and self-help books that analyze emotion.
• Observe emotional escalation in those around you and make notes about what you see and hear. 
• Listen to your inner voice when your emotions are stirred. How does it feel to become gradually more angry, for example, or more hopeful?

Exercise

Take one of the remaining melodramatic scenarios above and consider how to rewrite it either by properly preparing or by slowing down the emotional escalation.


Do you struggle with melodramatic scenes cropping up in your story? How might you better prepare for dramatic actions?

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