Tag Archives: example

Character arcs at the climax: an example in high art

This entry is part 11 of 11 in the series character arcs

Earlier this month, I presented at the LDStorymakers Writers’ Conference on character arcs. There was one question that my examples didn’t seem to address very well on character arcs at the climax. The other day, we were watching my two-year-old’s favorite movie when it hit me: this specimen of high art is a perfect example of the model of character arcs at the climax!

So I present to you this amazing, insightful analysis of character arcs at the climax featuring . . .

Kung Fu Panda 2!

My model for character arcs at the climax is very loosely based on what I remember from Michael Hague’s 1988 book on screenwriting, which I read last fall. I think. This is only one method of showing the ultimate moment of change for the character’s arc, of course, but it’s pretty awesome.

Creating the ultimate moment of change at the climax

Here’s how you can do this at home. The characters must already be following Michael Hague’s model described in his RWA workshops: the character starts off with a longing or need. They have a wound, some event in their past that affected the way they view themselves/the world. This wound led to a belief (usually mistaken), which also affects the way the character acts and interacts with the world (his/her mask). But this isn’t how the character really, truly is (or could be or should be), his/her essence.

My example is from a WIP where I’m still honing this aspect. The heroine’s wound is something bad that happened to her and challenged her faith, and she no longer believes in much of anything. Throughout the course of the book, the hero begins to show her the power of believing (in a religious and nonreligious way).

  • Set up the bad guy (internal, external, weather, whatever) the right way—align the bad guy with the mask. I set up my villain as believing belief is bad. (That’s the part I’m still working on.)
  • Show how the MC is (or has been) like the bad guy: they have this same weakness or mask. They recognize that bad in themselves, they see how it’s not working in their own life, and REALLY not working for the villain!
  • Make the MC choose—it’s all about forcing the character to make a choice to leave behind that comfort zone (the mask) and embrace the change (the essence)
  • AFFIRM THE CHOICE—because of what the character has learned or how s/he has grown—ONLY WITH THIS—are they strong enough to defeat the bad guy. This is the bad guy’s weakness, after all, that they’ve taken this to an extreme! Because my heroine has the courage to believe, she’s strong enough to defeat the bad guy.
  • Timing—the events should be in close proximity, if not simultaneous. The change happens at the climax (or shortly before/after) because that’s when the character ceases to grow and change—and be interesting.

Again, this is hard!

Character arcs in action: Kung Fu Panda 2

kfp2I haven’t seen Kung Fu Panda, but I’ve seen the sequel probably 30 times. It’s my two-year-old’s fave (“Panna,” she calls it.)

The basic premise of the movie is that Po, the eponymous martial artist panda, realizes that he’s adopted (his dad is a goose…). The villain, Shen the peacock, is threatening to take over all of China and destroy kung fu.

Often when we see this, the wounds that create the characters’ masks are very similar. Po’s wound is that (he thinks) his biological panda mother abandoned him. Shen’s wound is that, when his parents saw his psychopathic tendencies, they exiled him (even though they loved him, which he doesn’t see).

Po realizes that Shen persecuted and killed Po’s parents to try to circumvent the prophecy that Shen would be defeated by a warrior of black and white. Despite Shen’s attempts to kill Po, and the turmoil of Po’s past, Po is able to appreciate the friends and family and abilities he has now and find inner peace. With that inner peace he quite literally has the power to defeat Shen’s weapon (a firework-based cannon).

But the character arcs are even openly stated immediately after Po destroys the weapon:

SHEN: H-how did you… How did you do it?

PO: You know, you just gotta keep your elbows up and keep the shoulders loose…

SHEN: Not that! How did you find peace? I took away your parents! Everything! I– I scarred you for life!

PO: See, that’s the thing, Shen… scars heal.

SHEN: No, they don’t… wounds heal!

PO: Oh yeah. What do scars do? They fade, I guess…

SHEN: I don’t care what scars do!

PO: You should, Shen. You gotta let go of that stuff from the past ’cause it just doesn’t matter! The only thing that matters is what you choose to be now.
via Kung Fu Panda 2/Transcript – Kung Fu Panda Wiki, the online encyclopedia to the Kung Fu Panda world!.

Shen then makes his choice—to continue to fight and try to change the prophecy, to keep doing what he’s been doing. Po, having changed and grown beyond the state where Shen remains stuck, is able to escape and Shen destroys himself.

Because of what Po has learned on his journey (as prompted by external events), he is now strong enough to defeat not only his own mask and wound, but also to defeat Shen. Sometimes this works on a more metaphorical level, but in Kung Fu Panda 2 it’s very literal and very real.

What do you think? How do you handle character arcs at the climax?

Photo credits: Character arcs—Riccardo Romano

Making readers love (or at least understand) unlovable characters

This entry is part 8 of 11 in the series Creating sympathetic characters

By Julie Wright

There is a song by The Smiths where the first line is, “I know I’m unlovable. You don’t have to tell me . . .”

Sometimes we write characters like that, characters who are hard to relate to, hard to like, hard to care about.

Hi. My name is Julie Wright. I write those kinds of characters. The problem is that I never feel like I’m writing those kinds of characters. I happen to love the unlovable. I think sarcasm is funny. I think bitter people sometimes have a right to a good rant. And I think the flaws in each person—the flaws we all have whether we admit it or not—make us wonderfully human.

Jordan has been doing a blog series on creating sympathetic characters. She’s already mentioned the “street rat” and the princess. So you understand already that flawed does not have to equate to evil. But sometimes we writers forget to add the details of our thief sharing his entire meal with a few beggar children. Sometimes we writers know those details, but never get them on the page. For example:

In my novel My Not-So-Fairy-Tale Life, my heroine is horrible. She is sarcastic, bitter, angry and rebellious. She is angst personified. I love her. But not everybody loves her right at the beginning. She’s one of those characters you have to learn to love. While submitting the book in the beginning, I failed to put in those details about her past and present that made her lovable. I knew those details, but it took me a couple of edits to get them down on the page so the reader knew too. Once those details were there, even if you started out not liking her, you couldn’t help but at least understand her by the end.

To start out with someone who is reprehensible and then grow to love them makes for a fun journey for the reader as well as the character. It allows the reader access to understand other people, other motives, other walks of life. It allows the reader to grow and find compassion and comprehension within themselves.

I don’t write the unlovable as a moral object lesson for readers. I think I write them because I was so unlovable for so many years of my youth and I can relate to the unlovable. I am horribly flawed and yet I feel like I have worth—value. If I feel that way, then surely others do as well.

But how do you write snarky, ill-tempered characters and keep readers from throwing your book across the room, or worse from writing you and demanding a refund?

Daphne Atkeson, someone I know from an online writer’s group for YA novels, created what she calls a “cheat sheet” of ways to establish early empathy (not sympathy, if we feel sorry for our characters, we end up making their journey too easy) for a character. She gathered this information from several craft books by Billy Mernitt, Michael Hague, Donald Maass and Orson Scott Card.

Here is her list with her permission:

  • undeserved misfortune
  • Liked or loved by someone else
  • Good at something, has a strength
  • Trying to improve or be good
  • Wit or boldness
  • Aware of his flaws
  • Has some power
  • Has a familiar flaw
  • Shows forgiveness
  • Self sacrifice

In My Not So Fairy Tale Life, I had to incorporate a lot of these things from this list in order to make her relatable to the reader. She was violently abused and neglected as a child so much of her thorny personality was built on purpose as her way of defending herself from getting hurt (undeserved misfortune). Her brother, who is a really nice guy, loves her irrevocably (liked or loved by someone else). She is actually incredibly intelligent (good at something).

When she finds out she’s pregnant and goes to abort the baby, she recognizes she is on a path she can’t continue down so she doesn’t go through with the procedure and works hard to make sure the baby is healthy through the rest of her pregnancy (trying to improve or be good). She VERY sarcastic and has a comeback for just about everything (wit or boldness). She is painfully aware of her flaws. In spite of the abuse she learns to forgive her parents (shows forgiveness). In the end, she gives her baby up for adoption because she knows she isn’t ready or grown up enough to raise a child. And even though it hurts, she gives the baby to a family who is ready for it (self sacrifice).

Lots of books incorporate the flawed character. Janette Rallison did a smashing job with her book Just One Wish. The character breaks a ton of rules, gets into all kinds of mischief, but she’s doing it all for her little brother who has cancer. You can forgive her the lunacy because you understand the motive.

Never forget motivation. Motivation is the driving factor behind everything we do. Along with motivation, a character must have:

  1. PURPOSE—most important—what he wants, must be specific
  2. CREDIBILITY—believable
  3. EMPATHY—not sympathy, don’t feel sorry for him, identify with problem.
  4. COMPLEXITY—inner conflict, more than one side, surprise us with unseen aspects, contradictions and quirks

To the degree that your character feels passionately invested in his own life, the reader will feel invested, too. We need to be able to root for the character, to care whether or not the character wins the prize. To do so, we need to make sure the character DESERVES to win. In the original movie Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory, we realize that even though Charlie stole a little Fizzy-Lifting Drinks, he still deserved to win because he was a good kid.

The reader also needs to know what is at stake. For Janette’s character in Just One Wish, her brother’s life was very literally at stake. In the book The Hunger Games, the main character’s own life was at stake. She needed to get all of her primal needs met (food, shelter, means of defending herself). In the book Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow by Jessica Day George, the life of her beloved is at stake.

Something has to be on the line and it has to be a big something. Your character needs to stretch and grow and they cannot accomplish that if they have silly, paper-thin conflicts to deal with. When you inflict pain and trouble on your hero, you reveal him for who he is. You learn what motivates him, what is important to him. When you inflict pain and trouble on your hero, you discover what exactly it is that makes him the hero.

About the author
Julie Wright is extremely busy as a wife, a mother of three, a rural grocery store owner, and an author of or contributor to six novels and books on writing craft. She blogs at Scattered Jules and Writing on the Wall. Her latest book, Eyes Like Mine, is available for pre-order now.

Creating sympathetic characters – techniques in action

This entry is part 7 of 11 in the series Creating sympathetic characters

Can I tell you a story?

Once upon a time, there was a young man who was a habitual thief. Even though his family was perfectly capable of providing for him, and even though he was perfectly capable of working to support himself, he stole everything he owned and stole from anyone he could. He even subjugated innocent animals to make them steal for him.

In the same kingdom, there was a beautiful princess. Rich, powerful, handsome, kind men traveled from all over the world at the mere hope of winning her hand. Her doting father gave her everything she could ever want, and all he asked was that she marry, so that he could rest assured that she would be taken care of when he was gone. (Well, okay, he also would have liked to play with his grandkids before he went, too.) But the princess spurned and humiliated every suitor that came her way and simply refused to marry.

I know exactly what you’re thinking—you can’t wait for these two to get together for their happily ever after, huh? (Well, you have to admit, this does sound like it could be a prequel to The Great Gatsby, and then they could retreat into their money or their power or whatever it was that kept them together. . . . Anyway.)

But I’ll bet that you know and love a story with highly similar characters. This princess and this *ahem* street rat got a few new attributes in this retelling to make them a little less sympathetic. But in the hands of masterful character builders, by the time you know all the characters’ names, you’re rooting for them to find one another and fall in love.

How do we make these wretched people likeable? Here’s how it was done in the story I drew this from:

  • Start off with a framing story to set up how important the hero is, how legendary he is, and hint that great things will happen to this “diamond in the rough.”
  • He steals out of necessity—he’s an orphan, and he has to steal to eat.
  • He is persecuted—the city’s guards catch him stealing quite regularly and chase him through the streets.
  • He is smart and charming, and evades the guards through trickery.
  • After working hard to get away with a single loaf of bread (and sharing with his animal sidekick), when he sees two hungry orphans he gives them his whole meal.
  • A rich, haughty guy tries to tell our hero off completely without justification, and the crowd laughs. But our hero will have none of that and throws haughty guy’s words back in his face.
  • But rich, haughty guy gets the last word—he says to our hero, “You are a worthless street rat. You were born a street rat, you’ll die a street rat, and only your fleas will mourn you.” Then the palace doors slam shut, making sure our hero can’t retort and reinforcing just how destitute he is—and in his heart of hearts, we can see he worried that rich, haughty guy is right. (Very like Scarlett.)

And that’s the first seven or eight minutes (and I didn’t even mention how he saved the orphans’ lives). The heroine, of course, wants to marry for love, and all her suitors are only interested in power and money. Her father could easily be cast as a bad guy—the evil tyrant forcing her to marry against her will—but in this treatment, he keeps those nice sentiments that we gave him before.

Okay, if you haven’t guessed it by now, I’ll just tell you: our hero is Aladdin from the Disney animated film. And yeah, it’s a kids’ film, so the characterization can be a little . . . well, strong. (How do you convince a five-year-old that the guy stealing on screen is actually the good guy?) But at the same time, it’s done fairly (or at least relatively) believably.

What do you think? What movies or books do you see good characterization of otherwise yucky characters?

Photo credit: money grabber—Steve Woods