Crafting the Character Arc

by Jennie Jarvis

  The best Curve I’ve ever seen developed for a secondary character came in the film The Princess Bride. Inigo Montoya’s entire curve is clear, and all of the elements are presented through backstory or on screen. In a compelling monologue only Mandy Patinkin could pull off, Inigo tells us his resting period (life in Spain with his father), inciting incident (his father’s death), goal (kill the six fingered man) and rising action up to that point in the story (become a master swordsman and try to find his father’s murderer). His goal of avenging his father motivates his every action, including helping to bring Westley back from the dead. We experience his crisis when the six fingered man gets the drop on him and almost kills him (“You’ve been chasing me your whole life only to fail now? I think that’s about the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”). When Inigo rallies and finds the strength to defeat Count Rugen, we are all ecstatic for his victory because we have experienced his entire struggle. It is because we get to experience Inigo’s entire Curve that he has one of the most memorable lines in movie history: “Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”

  Regardless of whether you want to include the entire Curve of secondary characters like Inigo or not, it is essential that all points of the Curve be included for the protagonist. When a reader or viewer opens a book or watches a film, he or she experiences the world through that leading character. This Curve does what a basic plot outline cannot do – it provides a focus on your characters’ actions that keeps the story moving, even when the plot starts to lag.

  In the next few chapters, I will break down each of these moments of the Major Dramatic Curve and give you very specific examples of how each element is used in a variety of narratives. As you read, think about how you have consciously or unconsciously included each of these elements into your own writing and see if making some small adjustments to your characters’ Curves could make massive improvements in how your writing is received.

  Chapter 5

  Resting Period

  The first element of the Major Dramatic Curve is the initial place of rest (or Resting Period) of the protagonist. By definition, the Resting Period is the character in their world before their world changes. In some circles, this Resting Period is called the Ordinary World, and for good reason. This is the time when the protagonist is going about her or his daily life. In many ways, this day should be like any other day for the protagonist, except for one huge difference – before too long, something is going to happen to change that person’s life forever. That change will wind up the being the main plot for the rest of the story.

  In order for people to experience the stories of others, they need to be allowed into the character’s world. The Resting Period is the front door through which we walk to enter that world, the introduction to the character and the world before the character’s life is uprooted.

  And yes, the character’s life should be uprooted by the events of the story. If not, then why are we reading the story? What makes the narrative time period more interesting than the year before or the year after? Why tell this particular story? Why focus on these events? If the events aren’t important enough to change the protagonist’s life forever, then they probably aren’t important enough to use as the focal point of a novel, short story, movie or play.

  Regardless of whether we are talking about a novel, a film, or a short story, when we enter the world of a narrative, we always want to start at the beginning. This might sound like an obvious and rather over-simplified concept, but many students want to argue with this simple idea. They want to begin in the middle of the story (“in medias res”), allowing the reader or viewer to immediately get thrust into the action.

  I understand why more and more students are interested in this kind of storytelling. As various forms of media become popular, they effect storytelling methods, and both television and gaming are famous for starting their stories in an action packed place. With television, it is rather common to see a television show open in a place of action – maybe an exciting fistfight or with a gunshot that seems to kill off a beloved character. Then the action will cut back in time, and the viewer learns what happened “six hours earlier” or “two days earlier.” In other words after they see the exciting event, they start the story once more, this time from the beginning. So, while it might look like television starts in the middle of the action, they don’t actually skip the beginning of the story. However, the novice writer doesn’t always realize this is the case, and they might choose to “ignore” the fact that these shows flash back to the beginning in an effort to support their own decision to eliminate the beginning portion of their own stories.

  A great example of this kind of storytelling can be seen in several seasons of the award winning AMC serial Breaking Bad. Season One opens with a pair of pants flying into the air, and then a beat up RV running over them. The RV cascades down a desert road, and viewers have no idea where it’s going or why a Hawaiian shirt hangs from the rearview mirror. The action then cuts inside where the driver of the RV is revealed. He’s stripped to his underwear and wearing a gas mask. Unconscious on the seat next to him is a younger man, also wearing a gas mask. In the back are two seemingly dead bodies. When the driver’s mask fogs, he crashes the RV. He hears approaches sirens and begins to panic. He quickly pulls out a video camera and records a heartfelt good-bye to his family. It is at this time we learn his name is Walter White, and that he is a loving father and husband. He then pulls out a gun and gets ready for the oncoming police. At this point, the audience is completely hooked. We want to see the showdown between the police and this strange, half naked man. But then the show cuts back to “Three Weeks Earlier,” and what comes next is the beginning. We get to meet Walter and his family before he ever gets involved in any kind of criminal activity. And, most importantly, we have to watch the entire season to get back to that exciting opening.

  Season Two of the show is similar, although it opens with a simple image of a pink child’s toy in an otherwise black and white pool. At first, we only see the eyeball of the toy and assume it’s a human eyeball getting sucked into the pool filter, but then the camera dives deep into the pool where we see the rest of the child’s toy. For anyone who watched season one, we know that Walter’s children mean everything to him, and so we are anxious to see whose child might be dead. Again, it takes us the rest of the season to find out since the action then cuts back to the final scene of season one. Here, we are able to find out how Walter’s life is going to be thrown off balance once again.

  The motivating factor behind this popular way of opening television shows is obvious – it results in more viewers. Before the days of DVR and On Demand viewing, television stations had one opportunity to catch viewers – in the first five minutes of their show. They needed to hook viewers right away or lose them. If a viewer didn’t like what they saw, they could easily switch the channel and see what they could find that looked “more interesting.” In those days, you could only watch one thing at a time, and so you made your choices carefully. Now that viewers can record multiple shows or watch one show live and then catch another On Demand, viewers don’t have to be so choosey. However, there are now so many choices out there, TV writers still need to grab a viewer from this start of the show to ensure that they keep watching. But notice, on shows with good writing, you will always get to jump back to the beginning to complete the whole story.

  The trend of starting in medias res can also be found in the video game world as well. When a player starts a game, they will usually be thrust, headfirst, into some kind of conflict. This is because… well… it’s a game. The player wants to play the game, not just sit back and get a bunch of set-up information like backstory. Often, the first gameplay will be a bit simplistic compared to the rest of the game so the player can learn the game mechanics (A button equals jump, shake the remote to make his spin, etc.). As the player learns more skills, the challenges will get more difficult. Because the player wants to jump directly int
o gameplay, the game writers will often start in the middle of the story in order to maximize the action.

  Usually, the “beginning” of the story (backstory, character details, etc.) will be delivered in one of two ways. The most obvious way is through text or “exposition dumps.” Basically, the player will encounter either a dialogue exchange or a cut scene (small cinematic scenes embedded within the gameplay) that tells him about his past. A great example here is Harvester, a point-and-click game from the late 90s, but which has recently been re-released via Steam. In this game, you play as Steve, a man who has woken up in a strange town with no memory of his life. Over the course of the game, we meet his family and his fiancée, and in a dark twist, find out Steve is actually a serial killer responsible for much of the gore seen throughout the game. Other characters convey this to the player using very explicit dialogue.

  A more subtle way of conveying backstory can be via non-dialogue gameplay mechanics such as perks or stats. In other words, what your character starts off with gives us a sense of who they were before the game began. A great example of this can be seen in Dominion 3: The Awakening. In this game, the characters’ weapons, magic types and equipment slots serve as nods to who the characters were before the game began. Also, subtle choices, like having a character “blind in one eye” nods to a history without explicitly stating the details of the history. We get a sense of the characters’ beginning without having to actually experience it.

  That’s not to say that all games have to start in the middle of the action. Some very well-written games open at the beginning. Epic Mickey may as well open with the words “Once Upon A Time.” It starts with a cinematic of Mickey sneaking in the workshop of Yen Sid (the wizard from Fantasia), who is in the middle of creating a magical cartoon world. After accidentally creating the evil Ink Blot, Mickey escapes the workshop undetected. But shortly afterwards, he gets kidnapped and pulled into the Cartoon Wasteland by the villain he created. Similarly, The Last of Us begins on the night that a mutant fungus sweeps through the United States. This fungus attacks its hosts, turning them into a form of zombies. The player’s character Joel tries to escape the city with his brother and his twelve-year-old daughter, Sarah. During the exodus, Sarah is shot and dies in Joel’s arms. The game then jumps a full twenty years into the future.

  While Epic Mickey and The Last of Us are great examples of games that obviously start at the beginning, there have been too many games that either reference a beginning or ignore it all together for the sake of gameplay. While this method of storytelling can work very effectively in gaming, it has encouraged writers of other mediums to try to start in the middle of the action instead of starting at the beginning.

  So why is it important to begin at the beginning? Well, if we want to ignore Aristotle who encouraged us to always have a beginning, middle, and end, then we may want to ask ourselves these questions: Why do we begin reading a book on page one? Why do we show up before the start of a movie? What is the benefit of seeing a play from the opening scene as opposed to taking a seat at intermission?

  For me, the answer is simple: I want to know why I should care about the story. Starting in the middle, at the end, or with a later action scene is a gimmick to hook the reader’s/viewer’s curiosity rather than doing the harder work of hooking/engaging the reader’s/viewer’s empathy. There are other ways to use curiosity as a hook without having to flash forward/back to another part of the story. For instance, the first episode of the first season of The West Wing opens with all the characters receiving an urgent text and dropping whatever they are doing to deal with it. Allison Janney’s character ‘CJ’ even falls off the treadmill. Only when the final character is introduced (and leaves a beautiful woman in bed to go to work) do we learn what the text says: The President of the United States has been in a bicycle accident. By the time we learn this and our curiosity is satisfied, we have been introduced to a unique set of characters. Now, we want to see how each will handle this public relations crisis when the diverse group meets at the office, which just happens to be the White House.

  That opening segment of the story – the Resting Period – is a chance for us to get to know the character in a way that we wouldn’t know him or her if we started in the middle. Was that super hero just like me or has he always been strong? Was she always so confident or did she have to learn how to love herself? The resting period is a chance for us to see the protagonist as a real life, just-like-me human being before the amazing obstacles land in her path. If I can’t see her as a regular human being, then I can’t identify with her.

  The 2012 film Chronicle is a great film to look at when it comes to creating identifiable protagonists. Chronicle is interesting because we see the rise of a super villain, but we see it from the villain’s side and not the hero’s. The protagonist, Andrew, is extremely relatable when we first meet him. He is the social outcast who never quite feels like he has a place. His father abuses him, and he has purchased a camera to get proof of the beatings. His cousin Matt is his only friend, but even Matt thinks he needs to change himself in order to be more popular. Once they encounter the strange meteor rocks that give them special powers, we are already rooting for Andrew. We want him to grow and succeed because we have already accepted him as our equal. After he accidentally kills Steve and takes a turn towards darkness, we are still rooting for him. At the end of the film, where we realize that our super hero has become a super villain, we feel pity for him and not fear. We hope that Matt will fly in and save him from himself.

  Andrew is relatable for two reasons: for one, he has a good heart. We see him meaning well but never quite succeeding. He loves his mother and wants the best for her, but his alcoholic father keeps him from being present for her as much as he would like. The accident that scars half his body and lands him in the hospital comes as a direct result of his trying to steal money to obtain his mother’s medications. While Andrew’s father is out looking for his missing son, his mother dies. Andrew has lost everything. While Andrew kills quite a few people in his pursuit for helping his mother, his intention comes from a positive place. This makes audiences relate to him, even if they think his actions are extreme.

  Andrew is also relatable because he is an underdog. As a race, humans are often big fans of the oppressed. We want the downtrodden to fight back and come out on top. Bullies make fun of Andrew at school, and his father beats him up at home. He can’t win no matter where he goes. This makes us want to see Andrew fight back and stand up for himself. As humans, we have all felt oppressed at some time, and it is easy to relate to someone else in that same position.

  If we didn’t relate to Andrew, then his story would be much different. We would see his monologue about the “apex predator” as terrifying instead of invigorating. Once he gets his powers, if we didn’t identify with him, we would immediately want him to be stopped, not for him to succeed. That’s why it’s extremely important for us to get a sense of who he is before he gets his powers.

  The Resting Period is the place in any narrative where we get to see that pre-powers aspect of any character. Who are they before their world is thrown out of whack? Why should we care about them? Why are they just like us? When a writer opens a story after the protagonist has left their Ordinary World, then we don’t really get to learn this information.

  Here are a few other famous protagonists and their Resting Periods:

  Protagonist: Mikey – The Goonies

  Resting Period: Mikey in his home, reluctantly trying to accept that he will have to move. He’s a good kid with strong loyalty to his friends, who has a kind yet taunting relationship with his brother.

  Protagonist: Frodo – The Lord of the Rings

  Resting Period: Frodo in the Shire, loving both his life and his uncle. He’s innocent and carefree, and the disappearance of his beloved uncle causes him great sadness.

  Protagonist: Libby Day – Dark Places

  Resting Period: Libby has never really gotten over the murders of
her past. She labels herself in a way similar to the way others label her – as a victim.

  Protagonist: Harry Potter – Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s/Sorcerer’s Stone

  Resting Period: Forced to live in a cupboard under the stairs, Harry receives constant abuse from his aunt, uncle and cousin. As an orphan, he is a boy without a real home or sense of belonging.

  Protagonist: Nicholas Angel – Hot Fuzz

  Resting Period: Nicholas is the top police officer at everything he does. It’s clear he is, by far and away, the best PC the London Metropolitan Police Department has ever known.

  Protagonist: Dorothy – The Wizard of Oz

  Resting Period: Dorothy can think of nothing more boring than life on the farm. She dreams of growing up and living life in a more exciting place, far from the livestock and the Mrs. Gulches of the world.

  Each of these characters all lack something when we first meet them, and the main events of the story help to fulfill that inner need. We can’t truly appreciate what they lack unless we see them before they begin their pursuit of their main goal.

  Crafting Your Place of Rest

  Think about the protagonist of your story and write out a paragraph summarizing who he or she is in their Ordinary World. As you create this section of your story’s Major Dramatic Curve, consider the following tips:

  1. Never underestimate the power of a great opening. Whether it’s a great first line or a strong visual image, the first thing we see in a narrative helps define the story as a whole. Similarly, what a character is physically doing when we meet them – their defining action – will also tell us a lot about a character. For example, let’s say our protagonist is a well-dressed businessman. If he snorts cocaine when we first meet him, that tells us a lot more about him than if you open your story with him waking up and getting ready for work. As the saying goes, you never get a second chance to make a good first impression, so make sure your protagonist gives a well-defined first impression to your readers/viewers. What would your protagonist’s defining action be?