In Rose Madder, Stephen King gives us a Lead who, in the beginning, is weak and vulnerable—a horribly abused wife. In the prologue we see Rose Daniels, pregnant, savagely beaten by her husband. The section ends, Rose McClendon Daniels slept within her husband's madness for nine more years.
Chapter one begins with Rose, bleeding from the nose, finally listening to the voice in her that says leave. She argues with herself. Her husband will kill her if she tries. Where will she go? But she works up the courage to open the front door and take her first dozen steps into the fogbank which was her future.
Every step she takes now requires grit. Rose is unprepared for dealing with the outside world, with simple things like getting a bus ticket or a job. And all the while she knows her husband is going to be tracking her. Still, she moves forward, and we root for her. It would have been easy for King to spend
ten chapters detailing the abuse Rose took from her husband. But being a mas-ter of the craft, he knew that would have been too much "taking it."
If your novel seems to be dragging, one of the first places to look is right here, at the heart of your Lead. Is he giving up too easily? Has he been taking it for too long? Are there too many scenes where he's thinking or reacting and not doing?
Go back and put in some fight in an earlier scene. Get the Lead's dander up again. Make him take some action against a person or circumstance. Whether it's as simple as taking a step into the unknown or charging ahead into a dangerous battle, courage bonds us with the Lead.
To portray grit in action, you must prepare, then prove.
• Think up a scene early in your novel where your character must show inner courage. For example, he has to confront his boss over some company infraction. He can go through with it, foreshadowing a greater display of courage to come toward the end.
• Or the above character can back down, setting up the necessity for growth. In the Oliver Stone movie Wall Street, the young stockbroker Bud Fox is asked by financial giant Gordon Gekko to do some unethical snooping on a rival. At this crucial turning point Fox gives in, though he knows it's wrong. Fox will have to grow through bitter experience and develop the grit to confront Gekko at the end.
• Finally, play up your character's inner battle at the time of challenge. This will add a layer of depth to the confrontation. No one except James Bond goes into battle without fear.
THE LAMBERT SECRET
When my kids were young we liked an old Disney cartoon called Lambert the Sheepish Lion. It was the story of a lion cub raised by sheep. As a result, he was not a roaring lion but a rather timid and cowardly creature that the others made fun of.
In other words, a wimp.
But then one day his mother was backed onto a cliff by a ravenous wolf. The wolf was going to eat her or she would fall to her death. She cries out, "Laaaaambert!"
When Lambert hears the voice he raises his head. "Mama?"
Then he sees what's happening.
And from within, the lion that was always there ROARS! and leaps to her defense.
The wolf is scared right out of his fur and cowers. Too bad. Lambert bumps him right off the cliff.
From that day on, Lambert is the hero of the flock.
Know your character's inner lion. What is it that will make her roar and fight? Bring that aspect to the surface early in your story and you won't be hampered by the wimp factor.
Wit
In Kristin Billerbeck's She's Out of Control, lead character Ashley Stockingdale is arguing with her married and pregnant friend, Brea:
I am seriously annoyed now. "You never dated a guy afraid of commitment. You got married young, when you weren't 'bus bait.'" Bus bait is my brother's term meaning that I have more chance of getting hit by a bus than getting married over thirty. I'm thirty-one and counting. I take crosswalks seriously.
The throwaway last line is a perfect, witty counterpoint to what could have become maudlin self-pity. Ashley's wit is what helps keep her sane in the dark world of modern dating.
Wit is something everyone warms to when it's natural, not forced. An easy way to do show this is by making the wit self-deprecating. If the character has the ability to laugh at himself, wit will come naturally, as when Rhett Butler chides Scarlett O'Hara, "Why don't you say I'm a damned rascal and no gentleman?"
Wit can also make light of an overly sentimental situation. When Scarlett dances with Rhett for the first time, she teases him to say something "pretty" to her. Rhett replies:
"Would it please you if I said your eyes were twin goldfish bowls filled to the brim with the clearest green water and that when the fish swim to the top, as they are doing now, you are devilishly charming?"
Wit will enliven even a negative character. Thomas Harris's flesh-eating antagonist in The Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal Lecter, is a perfect example. Who will forget Lecter's culinary account revolving around a census taker's liver and some fava beans?
• Find an instance when your character can gently make fun of himself. Work that into a scene early in the book. This makes for a great first impression on the reader.
• Look closely at your dialogue and tweak some lines to lightly deflate moments that might be too sentimental. If you can come up with a killer bon mot, so much the better.
It
The novelist Elinor Glynn coined the term "It" for the Roaring Twenties generation. By It Glynn meant personal magnetism—sex appeal as well as a quality that invites admiration (or envy) among others. Someone who walks into a room and draws all the attention has It. (Clara Bow was the silent film actress who was called "The It Girl" for her portrayal of such characters.)
We've all known people like that, but getting It on the page can be difficult.
One way is to have the It character described either by the author or other characters. Margaret Mitchell does the former in the opening line of Gone With the Wind:
Scarlett O'Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it when caught by her charm, as the Tarleton twins were.
Here we are told by the author that Scarlett has It. But then Mitchell wisely provides some action to back it up:
But she smiled when she spoke, consciously deepening her dimple and fluttering her bristly black lashes as swiftly as butterflies' wings. The boys were enchanted, as she had intended them to be, and they hastened to apologize for boring her.
Later, at the barbecue at Twelve Oaks, Scarlett sits on an ottoman under an oak tree, surrounded by men. The scene gives us more proof of Scarlett's sex appeal. And, of course, Rhett Butler, who could have any woman, is drawn to her as well.
• Before you begin writing, hunt down a visual of your character. Go through magazines until you find a picture that seems to shout, This is what she looks like! Clip the picture and keep it for reference during your writing.
• Imagine a party where several people are chatting and your character walks into the room, dressed to the nines. How do the other characters react? What do they say about your character? Record these things for possible use in your novel.
• Work into your novel an early scene where another character is drawn to your Lead character. This can be because of sex appeal, power, or fascination. It can be subtle or overt. But this will set It in the minds of the readers.
Grit, Wit, and It. Work them into your main character, and you'll be on your way to creating truly unforgettable fiction.
Do not hesitate to give your hero lusts of the flesh, dark passions, impulses to evil; for these dark powers, fused with their opposites—the will to good, the moral impulses, the powers of the spirit—will do to your character precisely what the opposite powers of fire and water do to the sword blade.
—William Foster-Harris
ATTITUDE
Compelling characters have a way of looking at the world that's uniquely their own. This is their attitude, and done well it sets them apart from every other fictional creation.
If you're writing in first-person point of view, attitude should permea
te the voice of the narrator. Julianna Baggott's Lead in Girl Talk, Lissy Jablonski, is smart, witty, and a bit cynical. She describes an old boyfriend:
He'd been a ceramics major because he wanted to get dirty, a philosophy major because he wanted to be allowed to think dirty, a forestry major because he wanted to be one with the dirt, and a psychology major because he wanted to help people deal with their dirt. But nothing suited him.
We learn a lot about Lissy from her singular voice. One thing she's not is dull.
A third-person character shows attitude primarily through dialogue and thoughts. In L.A. Justice, we're given a look into the head of Nikki Hill, the deputy D.A. who is the Lead in the legal thriller by Christopher
Darden and Dick Lochte. In one scene she reacts to her superior, the acting D.A. He's a man of two personalities she had labeled "Dr. Jazz" and "Mr. Snide." In the office he was the latter, bent and dour, with an acid tongue and total lack of social grace ...At the moment, he was definitely in his Mr. Snide mode.
This is a quick look at Nikki's attitude toward authority, which continues to be developed in the novel.
The best way to find your character's unique views is to listen. You do this by creating a free-form journal in the character's voice. It's okay if you don't know what the voice is going to sound like when you start. Keep writing, fast and furious, in ten- to twenty-minute stretches. A voice will begin to emerge.
Have the character pontificate on such questions as:
• What do you care most about in the world?
• What really ticks you off?
• If you could do one thing, and succeed at it, what would it be?
• What people do you most admire, and why?
• What was your childhood like?
• What's the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to you?
Let the answers come in any form, without editing. Your goal is not to create usable copy (though you certainly will find some gems). Rather, you want to get to know, deeply, the character with whom you're going to spend an entire novel.
THE CHARACTER VOICE JOURNAL
Start a free-form document that is just the voice of your character, in stream of-consciousness mode. Go wild with this. You're trying to let the voice of the character develop organically. You want to be able to hear the character so he doesn't sound like any of the other characters.
Personalize and make it unique. These tools help you do that.
SURPRISES
Raymond Chandler had a little advice for spicing up a plot. Whenever the story starts to drag, he counseled, "Bring in a guy with a gun." In other words, surprise.
Why not do the same thing with your characters? A character who never surprises us is dull by definition.
Surprising behavior often surfaces under conditions of excitement, stress, or inner conflict.
Archie Caswell, the fourteen-year-old protagonist of Han Nolans When We Were Saints, is torn about his experience of the divine. Alone on a mountain he dug his hands into the ground beneath him, pulling up pine needles and dirt. He threw it at the trees. He picked up some more and threw it, too. He berates God, then asks God's forgiveness. Not something we expect from a heretofore normal, trouble-making kid.
• Go to a place in your story where the tension is high. Now increase the heat. Ratchet up the conflict.
• Make a list of possible actions and reactions for your character. Push beyond the familiar. Allow yourself to come up with possibilities you would never have considered. The more surprising, the better (usually these will come when you force yourself to keep listing, so make the list at least ten items long).
• Sit back and choose an action or reaction that seems fresh and alive. Don't fear the unknown. Work that into your scene. See if you can work others elsewhere.
Unselfishness
We care about people who care about others. We like characters who don't just think of their own self-interest all the time. A Lead who shows concern for those not as well off as himself creates a strong bond.
Compare two Woody Allen movies. In Scoop, Scarlett Johansson plays an American journalism student in London. In her first scene she gets drunk and sleeps with a celebrity to get an interview.
Woody Allen plays a third-tier magician who gets Johansson as a volunteer one night. In the disappearing chamber she is visited by the ghost of a famous journalist who gives her a scoop on a serial killer.
She enlists Allen to help her track the suspect.
But we don't care.
Why? Because all we know about the Lead is that she is a woman of questionable morals and ethics with a nice bod. Her sidekick holds no
particular interest for us, either. He isn't doing too badly, apparently, even with his less-than-impressive shtick.
What was missing here?'
Now consider one of Allen's more successful films, Broadway Danny Rose. Here Allen plays a very similar character to the one he played in Scoop, a fast-talking but unimpressive Brooklynite. Yet we care deeply about Danny Rose. Why?
Because Danny is a talent agent to those without a chance, like a blind xylophone player and a one-legged tap dancer. He genuinely cares about his charges, and that's the key: We like characters who care about others.
• Is there a minor character in your story your Lead can care about? If not, create one.
• Your Lead doesn't have to be a saint about this. He can have inner conflict or annoyance about his caring. It's his actions that count.
• A useful technique is the "pet the dog" beat (see pages 224-225).
The Secret Ingredient: Honor
Honor can be defined as strong moral character shown by adherence to ethical principles. It is an inner quality that motivates right action, even in the face of terrible odds.
In High Noon, Will Kane (Gary Cooper in an Oscar-winning role) is the retiring marshal of a small Western town. He's just married a Quaker woman (Grace Kelly), and they're about to ride out to start their quiet lives together.
Then Kane gets the terrible news: The killer he helped put away has been pardoned. And he's announced he's coming to town on the noon train to take care of Will Kane once and for all. And he's bringing three other gunmen to help him in his deadly task.
Maybe he should stay, Kane says. But the townspeople herd him and his wife onto a buckboard and rush him out of town.
A half-mile later Kane pulls up the horse. He tells his wife he has to go back. If he doesn't, the killers will hunt them down. The two of them will be on the run for the rest of their lives.
But it goes even deeper than that. The really important theme is that Kane knows he won't be able to live with himself if he runs, let alone with his wife. He's a man who cannot live with dishonor, because to do so is
worse than death. He has to go back. And for this he risks losing Grace Kelly. Grace Kelly! Talk about a virtue holding sway over a soul!
The key moment in the film occurs just before Act III and the climactic shoot-out. Kane has tried unsuccessfully to gather a posse. The town he had served so well has let him down. He is alone, and four gunmen will soon arrive to kill him. He will almost surely die.
In the livery stable he begins to crack. What has he done? He's given up a wife and a future, for what? For honor? Is that worth anything?
He sees a horse and saddle and wonders if he should just get on and get out.
In walks Harvey (Lloyd Bridges), the young deputy who has bristled under the shadow of the great Will Kane. A coward at heart, Harvey wants nothing more than to have Kane leave town so he can take over his role as the big man. He's even tried to take Kane's former lover for his own, but she now holds him in contempt.
Harvey sees immediately what Kane is thinking and happily starts saddling the horse. "No one'll blame you," he says. "Sure, this is what you've got to do."
And in that moment Will Kane sees what he'll become if he leaves. His dishonor will turn him into Harvey. His life will effectively end, even if he stays physically a
live.
Kane refuses to get on the horse. This angers Harvey so much he tries to knock Kane out. They fight, and Harvey is the one who ends up on the ground.
Kane stays to face the killers, and you'll have to watch the movie to see what happens.
But it is that one moment, that interior reflection, where Kane fights the most important battle. As the essayist Michel de Montaigne put it, "It is not for outward show that the soul is to play its part, but for ourselves within, where no eyes can pierce but our own."
Honor is found in another literary classic, Herman Melville's Moby-Dick, in a most unlikely place. Ishmael is astonished when Queequeg, the cannibal harpooner, risks his own life to save a young greenhorn from drowning. The astonishment comes from Queequeg's nonchalance about it all. He accepts no congratulations and seeks no reward, just some water to wash off the brine and a place to smoke his pipe. Ishmael seems to peer into the native's mind, catching the thought that we are simply all in this together, and we have to look out for each other. That's just what people do.
Who a character is comes out in those moments when, under moral stress, he has a choice to make. Will it be honorable or dishonorable?
When Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart) gives up the love of his life, Ilsa (Ingrid Bergman), in Casablanca, it is a transcendent and perfect ending. Blaine has made a sacrifice because to take another man's wife, even though she is willing, is too much dishonor to abide. They may not regret it now, Blaine says to Ilsa, but they will soon, and for the rest of their lives. In this way, the anti-hero Blaine becomes a real hero and shoves off with his new friend, Louis (Claude Rains), to rejoin the war effort.
Contrast that with An American Tragedy, the Theodore Dreiser classic that was magnificently made into the film A Place in the Sun. Clyde Griffiths starts with one dishonorable act that leads to his inevitable downfall. Early in the novel, goaded by some of his fellow bellboys to visit a brothel, Clyde has a choice to make. He's curious but a little scared, because of his background. His parents were staunch Christians and brought him up that way.
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