42 Common Mistakes Novelists Make
By Paula Berinstein
The Writing Show
2012
You know your story isn't working, but you can't figure out why. And now you're stuck.
This list can help. As a story consultant, I see the same problems in manuscripts over and over. If your novel doesn't seem to be coming together, chances are it's suffering from one or more of these common maladies. Eliminating them should improve your work dramatically.
I've divided the list into seven categories for easy reference:
Protagonist
Other characters
Structure
Reader engagement
The Market
Mechanics
Other.
Protagonist problems
1. The Tease. You get us all excited but don't follow through. There are two ways this problem can manifest itself. Either you promise a payoff and then disappoint, or you gloss over the good stuff rather than taking your time with it. Some people do both.
Many writers put their heroes in jeopardy only to resolve the crisis before it's begun. Don't just show the threat. Ratchet up the tension and turn the threat into action.
For example, let's say your protagonist is relaxing on a lonely beach and decides to go body surfing. She gets caught in the undertow and nearly drowns, but a passerby dives into the water and saves her. He wraps her up in a towel and drives her home, and she never sees him again.
What is the purpose of that incident? Unless your protagonist contracts some deadly disease or develops a mortal fear of the ocean, there's none at all. The passerby doesn't complicate her life. The near drowning doesn't harm her. The whole incident comes to nothing. But what if this incident were just an introduction to the rescuer, who then became an important character in the story? Or if the experience gave the protagonist a phobia to conquer or brought in an unseen a witness who went on to make trouble? By letting the scene go to waste, you're missing opportunities to advance the story.
Another thing writers do is quickly tell us how the protagonist solved a problem rather than taking the time to show the struggle. Rather than saying, "While he was on the lam, he encountered a few cops but managed to evade each of them," show us your character noticing the cop and tracking his every move, then attempting to sneak around so as not to be noticed, only to come face to face with the cop and have to think fast to evade him, then to see the cop realize his mistake two minutes later and come after him. That kind of moment-by-moment action should go on for pages while your readers bite their nails wondering whether your hero will be captured or killed.
2. The Ego Trip. Your protagonist is too much like you. Yes, you're supposed to write what you know. But you can overdo it. Your character may have traits in common with you, but he isn't you. Do not put your words in his mouth. Instead, make him larger than life. Give him experiences you've never had, actions you'd never have the guts to take. Make his dialogue more to the point, more purposeful, more clever and commanding of people's attention. Use your experiences and feelings as a jumping off point, then build on them to make the character more so. Throw in some traits that aren't you at all.
How can Meryl Streep successfully play Margaret Thatcher, Sophie Zawistowski, Karen Silkwood, and Julia Child? She can't be like all of them. Maybe she isn't like any of them. She becomes them the way Method actors do: by digging down inside herself and finding a way to feel the emotions her characters would feel. This is what you must do too. (I say that as if it's so simple. Of course it isn't. Novel writing is hard work!)
3. The Cartoon. You don't give your protagonist an internal problem.
By "internal problem," I don't mean character flaw. There's a difference. An internal problem is a personal demon. A character flaw is a failing. You can be haunted by the fact that your parents didn't really love you. That's a demon. But if you act out that problem by becoming a pathological liar, that's a character flaw.
If your protagonist does not have an internal problem, something that's making her life untenable, she will come off as a one-dimensional character. Protagonists without demons just aren't that interesting--at least not in this day and age. Maybe Miss Marple doesn't have any internal problems, but if Agatha Christie were writing today, she'd have to make Miss Marple a closet drug addict or a kleptomaniac or something that would threaten to derail her while she's fighting her external problems, i.e., criminals.
Internal problems not only make your protagonist more interesting, but they also help us identify with the character because like us, they're vulnerable. In addition, an internal problem gives you plot possibilities beyond just racing against time to stop the bad guys. If there's a chance your protagonist can sabotage herself, she's all the more interesting to watch. And the satisfaction we get at the end of the story is intensified because she triumphs not only over her enemies, but also herself.
4. The Drip. Your protagonist isn't likeable or sympathetic. Most of us want to read about someone we can cheer on. But even if your protagonist isn't the most admirable person in the world, we need to see something about her that makes us care. That means she has to do something generous or show some vulnerability.
The key is to present little moments that highlight your character's vulnerability and/or generosity. The late story guru Blake Snyder, author of the Save the Cat! screenwriting books, recommended creating "save the cat" incidents. He felt that you can make your protagonist sympathetic by showing him or her doing something generous early in the story, like saving a cat. Of course, your characters don't have to run around literally saving animals from oncoming cars. All they have to do is something that shows they have a shred of nobility or at least demonstrate the possibility for redemption. Even a mafioso can be nice to children, for example. In this way, you'll get readers and viewers on the character's side. Then, no matter how badly they behave from that point on, we'll know that they could turn out better than they started. We engage early and stay connected because we want to know whether the character will live up to his or her potential.
If you don't want to show the noble side of your character, give us a glimpse of her vulnerability: a moment of self-doubt, a history of abuse, personal tragedy. If we see that she is able to feel pain, we will soften toward her. We may not want to be pals, but we'll begin to understand where she's coming from, and we'll follow her.
5. The Loser. Your protagonist has too many problems. Give your protagonist one or two internal problems from the get-go, but don't get carried away and give him so many that he comes across as pathetic. A little bit of trouble will get you a long way by multiplying and taking different forms throughout the story. If J.K. Rowling had made Harry Potter not only an orphan living with hideous relatives but also crippled and poor and repulsive, she wouldn't have created a viable hero. That fact that Harry is an orphan carries him through seven books, but he's never pitiable. That's why we not only stick with him, but also love him.
6. The Stick-in-the-Mud. You don't send your protagonist on a journey. If your protagonist doesn't go on a quest of some kind, you won't have a story. The journey is the story. The quest doesn't have to involve a physical journey, but there must be seeking, and there must be obstacles that arise to prevent the protagonist from finding or gaining what he's seeking. Trying to get a new job is a quest; attempting to make a sale is a quest; pursuing a love interest is a quest; attempting to exact revenge on an enemy is a quest; attempting to save your family's money is a quest; trying to get a criminal incarcerated or an innocent man out of jail is a quest. Making idle chitchat with other characters isn't a quest. Sitting and waiting to be rescued isn't a quest. Lying in bed dre
aming isn't a quest. Story is all about purpose and striving.
7. The All Talk and No Action. You don't demonstrate the protagonist's internal problem and flaws by what he or she thinks, does, and says. In other words, you don't follow through.
It's all well and good to say that your protagonist is vain or afraid of not being liked or worried about becoming violent, but if you don't demonstrate that issue throughout the story, there's no point in mentioning it in the first place. We need to see the character being less than perfect. Showing us the flaw in action not only makes your character believable, but also makes us feel his pain. When we see the trouble he's causing for himself, we engage with him and care what happens to him. Then when the character resolves his problem, we'll see the difference between the "before" and the "after."
8. The 50-year-old High School Football Hero. Your protagonist isn't transformed at the end of the story. With the possible exception of detectives in mysteries, by the end of the story, your protagonist should have confronted and resolved the internal problem that was presented at the beginning. This principle holds true whether your story is comedy, tragedy, or something in between. Even if your character dies at the end, or seems to lose his battles, he must be transformed and his problem resolved, as happens with Michael Henchard, the mayor of Casterbridge in Hardy's eponymous tale and Nate Fisher, Jr., the undertaker's son in "Six Feet Under," who loses his battle with a serious brain condition. Both of these characters die, but when they do, they're vastly different people from their earlier selves. Their struggle has changed them. The mayor has gained a kind of redemption after realizing that he's led a selfish life, and Nate has at last decided to extricate himself from his destructive relationship with his wife, Brenda.
Another word about Harry Potter here. Characters have one-story arcs and series arcs. Harry doesn't truly resolve his internal problem until the last book in the series. However, within each book that makes up the series, he does come to some kind of preliminary terms with it. For example, in The Prisoner of Azkaban, he stops expecting his dead father to swoop in and save him from the dementors when he realizes that he himself has fought them off. That realization is a step in his personal journey and enough of a resolution for that particular book.
Other character problems
9. The Piece of Cake. You don't have an antagonist. If your protagonist goes through life winning some and losing some but doesn't struggle against a consistent "enemy," you don't have an antagonist. You should.
An antagonist doesn't have to be a person--it can be an internal demon, nature, society, a great white whale, but your story will probably be more effective if it is. I recommend that you select a person as your antagonist so readers have someone to hate, fear, or pity. You can be angry with nature or an unfair society or a cracked sidewalk, but a human antagonist is more vulnerable and possesses the potential to be conquered. A human antagonist can also speak and reason and interact with the protagonist on an intellectual level.
10. The Pass the Buck. Someone other than your protagonist defeats the enemy. It's okay for your protagonist to get help from his friends and allies, and it's fine for the other team members to be instrumental in winning important battles. But in the end, if all the work is done for the protagonist, he won't be a satisfying character. In other words, in The Lord of the Rings, Gandalf may fight the Balrog, but Frodo is the one who must throw the magic ring into the fire and save Middle Earth.
11. The Fast Cut. You head hop. This problem has to do with point of view. Remember, every story is told by a narrator, who may or may not be the same person as a viewpoint character. The narrator tells the story, but we see events through the eyes of the viewpoint character.
If you're writing in third person limited point of view, be consistent about who your viewpoint character is within a scene. Do not "head hop," that is, switch from one character's point of view to another's. It's okay to vary your viewpoint character from scene to scene and chapter to chapter, but if you jump around within a section, the effect will be jarring. If you want to show some action from two characters' viewpoints, create a scene for each one.
For more detailed information about point of view, see my Kindle article "Point of View in Fiction."
12. The Desert Island. You have too few characters. It's almost impossible to sustain an entire book with only a couple of characters. Your cast acts as foils for each other. They cause other characters to behave in ways we might not see if they didn't exist. They also express opinions about each other that give us insight. A mix of personalities creates variety and conflict and helps propel the story forward. Make sure you have enough characters to perform those functions.
13. The Mob. You have too many characters. It's okay to have a lot of characters in your story as long as each serves an important function and your readers can keep them straight.
There's no rule of thumb about how many characters is too many. Charles Dickens tended to overpopulate his stories without ill effects. J.K. Rowling does the same. If you want to use lots of characters, just make sure they're distinct and identifiable enough that we don't get lost, and be sure they serve the story. (Remember the guy who rescued the body surfer I referred to previously? He doesn't belong in the story.) If they don't, lose them. If you really like them, you can always use them somewhere else.
If you think your cast is growing two fast, try introducing the characters over time. That way we can get used to one group before going on to the next.
14. The Passing Acquaintance. You don't know enough about your characters to make them interesting or believable. The secret to building a rounded character is knowing him so well that you can hear his self-talk. You know what he thinks and the words he uses inside his own head; what he wants and needs; how he reacts to what's going on around him; what bothers him and why; what he would do in almost any situation because that's always how he behaves; the seminal and trivial events of his life; what his daughter said to him this morning and his boss did to him last week. You need all this information to create an effective first-person narrator or third person limited viewpoint character so they can reveal their thoughts to us throughout the story. If you do not know enough about your characters, you run the risk of making them vague and potentially inconsistent.
15. The Milquetoast. Your antagonist is weak. If your protagonist wins his battles too easily, you won't build the tension necessary to keep readers engaged. Make sure your antagonist is a worthy adversary. He must be capable of defeating your hero. Sherlock Holmes needs a Moriarty. If he were to match wits with Inspector Lestrade or Dr. Watson, the stories in which he appears would lack tension. The antagonist needs to be strong enough to have a realistic chance of winning. Then we'll wonder whether and how the protagonist will prevail.
16. The Mustache Twirler. Your antagonist is one-dimensional. Your antagonist needs to be just as deep and capable of stirring our sympathy as your protagonist. It's one thing to hate a cartoon villain. It's quite another to feel moments of sympathy for the devil.
The character of Londo Mollari in the television show "Babylon 5" is one of my favorite examples of the complex villain. At first, Londo is selfish, arrogant, and vain. But later he develops sympathy for his enemy, the Narn G'Kar, and against the wishes of his imperialist government, helps G'Kar escape from captivity. When Londo shows a moment of compassion, we see that he can be generous, even if immediately afterwards he reverts to his old self. And in fact, as we keep watching, we are rewarded with more moments of generosity from Londo, who by the end of the series becomes a pitiful slave. At that point, his transformation is complete, and we were riveted the whole time, just waiting to see that happen.
If Londo were simply bad--always thwarting our good guys--the story would have devolved into an us and them situation. But as we begin to root for and even identify with him, we become highly engaged and care about what happens to both the good guys and the bad guys. The irony is that when the bad guys get the comeuppance we've been
hoping for, we no longer want that for them.
After previewing this article, a friend of mine said that with a tweak here and there, a great antagonist could easily become a protagonist. He's right!
17. The Butterfly. Your characters are inconsistent. Be sure your characters' actions make sense in the context of what we know about them. Don't show us a character who is paralyzed with grief one moment and gaily planning a bridal shower the next. It's true that a person who is bipolar might act that way, but if you must show a character acting inconsistently, make sure we know, or at least suspect, that there's pathology involved.
Structural problems
18. The Quitter. Your story doesn't have a beginning, middle, and end. Your novel should include these elements in this order:
Beginning
Protagonist in his untenable "before" state
Catalyst shakes him up
Question what to do
Middle
Start the quest
Face a series of obstacles
End
Come up with a new approach
Final struggle with the antagonist
Resolution.
Middles are said to be difficult to write. I think a lot of writers find middles difficult because they don't understand structure well enough. If you are having trouble with the middles of your stories, pick up a copy of any of Blake Snyder's Save the Cat! screenwriting books, which work just as beautifully for novelists. Read them voraciously and heed what Blake has to say.
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