What Makes a Great Villain?

ByJohn Brown

GENUS & SPECIES

I think there are a few facets to the question posed in the title. But before we get to that, I think we need to define what a villain is.

A villain is a type of antagonist. Every story has an antagonist, someone or something that opposes the hero or heroine, even if it’s the setting as in Jack London’s “To Build A Fire” or the hero himself as in Jim Carrey’s Liar Liar. But usually the antagonist is another character in the story.

Antagonists vary in many ways. One way that’s important to the story is how sympathetic they are. The spectrum runs all the way from those who generate fear and loathing to those who generate just a little less sympathy than the hero. Note: we can never feel more sympathy for the antagonist; the moment we do, they become the hero in our eyes. The definition of the antagonist is the person we’re rooting against, the person who is working against the person we’re rooting for.

So a villain is a species of antagonist that generates fear and loathing in the reader. It doesn’t matter if they think they have good reasons for their acts. We still feel they are evil and dangerous. Examples include: Darth Vader, Sauron, the kidnapper in Mel Gibson’s Ransom, Commodus in Gladiator, or the Joker in The Dark Knight.

So here’s what I’ve noticed about effective villains.

VILLAINS & STRUCTURE

1) In a villain/hero story situation, the villain is key because the hero is reacting to the villain’s plan. It’s a total threat/danger plot.

2) So the villain has to be active. He’s the one who WANTS something. He’s the one that starts the whole story. A weak villain isn’t going after this thing whole-hog or doesn’t have the power to do it or has no urgency and will.

3) Strong villains are ruthless AND powerful. Villains also need to have some brains–we need to be worried for the hero, remember? We have to know that they’re they type of person  that will take you out if you get in their way. Even if they have a well-spun way of making themselves sound ethical. But villains go beyond other antagonists in that we fear and hate them. They are evil.

4) The hero needs to be the underdog in the relationship, meaning less powerful, two steps behind, not as easily ruthless etc.  The bigger the plan the more high stakes and high concept the story becomes. But it’s the villain’s plan that drives it. And they will be taking steps to counter the hero, will probably be two steps ahead most of the story.

5) As always, as with any character, the villain’s plan and motives have to be believable. Even if they are evil. The minute a villain becomes too far-fetched, they lose their power.

CHARACTER INTEREST

In addition to the role villains play in the story, there are a number of other things that make them interesting. However, these things are not anything new or different. They’re the same things that make any character (or person) interesting.

– Larger-Than-Life Attributes (as in experience, power, skill, success, position, or behavior)
– Eccentricities and Particularities
– Outrageousness
– Humor
– Beauty
– Surprise (as in against type details, reactions, motivations, or backstory)
– Inner Conflicts (as in the “ethical” dilemmas they find themselves in)

While danger and threat draws the attention, rouses interest, and can be sufficient to make a villain memorable, I think the factors mentioned above have a wonderful effect.

THE CORE QUESTION

The root question when considering villains is what pushes readers toward the fear and hate of others?

Of course, it’s relative. But there are qualities that engender these feelings in us. Selfishness, brutality, sadism, madness, cruelty, a complete disregard for others AND the power to carry their wishes out. It’s someone who poses huge, immediate, specific threats to me or those I care about and does it without any concern or with relish. The more intense these factors, I think the more we move along the spectrum towards fear and hate.

So people say the best villains are those who are the hero’s of their own story and with whom we can empathize. I don’t think this is accurate. The Joker in the Dark Knight was a great villain and may have been the hero of his own story, but never in a million years would I empathize with him. It’s true we can smpathize more with people who agonize and resist horrible acts. And some antagonists do show scruples. But not every story demands that type of antagonist. Sometimes what’s needed is someone who kills grandma horribly and says “so what” or “it was fun”–and engenders fear and hate.

One last point. “Villain” is a reader attributed characteristic, i.e. the reader is the one who labels the character. This means the person has to be a villain in the READER’S eyes, not necessarily a villain in the eyes of the culture in the story. For example, In Not Without My Daughter the hero subverted and violated the dominant story culture, and I cheered for her. The guy who was sustaining the moral order of the story culture was the villain.

ROOTING

From what I can tell, all rooting response is based on some innate sense of justice, of what’s appropriate in a situation. For whatever reason, we feel discomfort when undesireable things happen to good or innocent people. We also feel discomfort when desireable things happen to bad people. The reason why we root for someone is because they have a lack of happiness or a threat to their happiness AND we belive they deserve better. I can’t see anything else we based that deservingness upon except some inner sense of justice.

It doesn’t mean the deserving person is a goodie two-shoes. It just means that in the context of the story and what’s happening, we think the scales of justice tip, if only slightly, to the hero’s side.

Some may argue this, but I don’t think it’s possible to root for someone or against someone without a moral judgment. It’s true that not every antagonist needs to or does act immorally. In fact, the antagonist might be doing the right thing, the moral thing, in his or her particular situation, and it just happens to oppose the hero’s desires. The key however, is that the story guides the reader to feel the hero should win at the antagonist’s expense. And that it’s right for the hero to do so. That “rightness” is based on a moral stance of what’s good and desireable in the given situation. The farther along the spectrum of antagonists we move towards villany, the more clear that moral stance becomes.

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  • Is 90% of everything really crap?

    ByJohn Brown

    Whenever you talk in speculative fiction circles about quality writing you will inevitably hear someone cite Sturgeon’s Law.

    Theodore Sturgeon, a science fiction writer, defended science fiction against critics of the genre who said that 90% of science fiction was crap by saying that 90% of everything–film, literature, consumer goods, etc.–was crap. Therefore, pointing out that 90% of science fiction is crap is ultimately uninformative because science fiction conforms to the same trends of quality as all other artforms do. So neener neener neener.

    The problem with this “law” is that it isn’t a law. It’s not something discovered through rigorous testing and careful evaluation of data. In fact, no testing was performed. It’s an opinion, but “Sturgeon’s Opinion” lacks the authoritative power needed to silence the critics. 

    Unfortunately, while citing the law may be a good way to give the literati what for, it’s a terrible way to think about books. I say this because we often mistake “poor quality” with “it wasn’t to my taste.” By doing so we mislabel diamonds as dirt.

    How can this be? The answer is in the true nature of quality.

    The business world has spent many years and much treasure trying to understand what quality is. I think writers and readers can benefit from the paths they’ve blazed. I found a great summary of quality on Wikipedia.

    Business has tried to define quality in a producer-consumer context, with the following variations:

    1. ISO 9000: “Degree to which a set of inherent characteristic fulfills requirements.”[2] The standard defines requirement as need or expectation.
    2. Six Sigma: “Number of defects per million opportunities.”[3] The metric is tied in with a methodology and a management system.
    3. Philip B. Crosby: “Conformance to requirements.”[4][5] The difficulty with this is that the requirements may not fully represent customer expectations; Crosby treats this as a separate problem.
    4. Joseph M. Juran: “Fitness for use.”[5] Fitness is defined by the customer.
    5. Noriaki Kano and others, presenting a two-dimensional model of quality: “must-be quality” and “attractive quality.”[6] The former is near to the “fitness for use” and the latter is what the customer would love, but has not yet thought about. Supporters characterize this model more succinctly as: “Products and services that meet or exceed customers’ expectations.”
    6. Robert Pirsig: “The result of care.”[7]
    7. Genichi Taguchi, with two definitions:
      a. “Uniformity around a target value.”[8] The idea is to lower the standard deviation in outcomes, and to keep the range of outcomes to a certain number of standard deviations, with rare exceptions.
      b. “The loss a product imposes on society after it is shipped.”[9] This definition of quality is based on a more comprehensive view of the production system.
    8. American Society for Quality: “a subjective term for which each person has his or her own definition. In technical usage, quality can have two meanings:
      a. the characteristics of a product or service that bear on its ability to satisfy stated or implied needs;
      b. a product or service free of deficiencies.”[5]
    9. Peter Drucker: “Quality in a product or service is not what the supplier puts in. It is what the customer gets out and is willing to pay for.”[10]

    The common element of the business definitions is that the quality of a product or service refers to the perception of the degree to which the product or service meets the customer’s expectations. Quality has no specific meaning unless related to a specific function and/or object. Quality is a perceptual, conditional and somewhat subjective attribute.

    What does this mean for writers and readers?

    It means that your audience defines quality. But your audience is never all of those that read. It’s only the narrow segment that reads for the type of experience you’re offering.

    It means that a story can be of the highest quality, but you still may not like it. You might even hate it.

    It means that Sturgeon’s Law is, no disrespect intended, crap.

    All writers should consider NY Times best-seller Tess Gerritsen’s experience writing for two different audiences.

    I’ve had too many smart and well-read friends like stories I do not. I’ve loved too many stories that others could not. I’ve seen too many stories I couldn’t read more than two pages of picked up by editors and find audiences. And the tales of editors passing up on stories that some other editor picked up and which became mega-sellers are legion. 

    Quality has never been an absolute. The truth is that while I enjoy many stories in a variety of genres, a lot of what’s published is not to my taste, but it’s still very good.  

    A more accurate statement of Sturgeon’s Law would be something like “90% of what’s out there isn’t to my taste.”

    For readers this means we need to be careful to distingush between something that doesn’t work for the audience it’s intended for and something that simply doesn’t work for us. For writers this means we need to write the best story we can and then avoid pressing it onto the wrong audience. And when we do get a bad review, we need to figure out if it’s the quality of the story or just a matter of taste.

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    John guest posts about writing memorable fiction on ReidWrite

    ByJohn Brown

    Luc Reid is the author of, among other things, Talk the Talk: The Slang of 65 American Subcultures.  He is also the lizard king of Codex, which he started and of which I’m so happy to be a member. He’s always starting provocative threads on Codex, making us all think and reexamine the principles of story and the whole writing business. He recently posted some insights about what makes memorable stories. A lot of other fellow Codexians joined in the discussion. Happily, he asked me to share some of my thoughts on his site, ReidWrite. They begin as follows:

    YOU’RE MINE, DEAR READER

     Mwuhahaha.

     Okay, maybe not. But you are wired to be mine. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

    Let’s back up. Luc wrote about writing memorable. I agree with the idea that the stories that produce a strong emotional reaction are the most memorable. In fact, I believe that triggering of emotion is THE reason why linear narrative that puts us into the trance has lasted so long in so many forms and makes so much money.

    But can writers guide reader emotions? Or is it all just by accident?

    Read the rest here: http://reidwrite.livejournal.com/8331.html.

    BTW, when you’ve finished that, you might want to check out Luc’s new site, WillpowerEngine.com. It’s a place where he shares what he’s found in his research for his current book project, The Willpower Engine, on how self-motivation works. I think you’ll find a number of the posts there very interesting.

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  • Generating Story 10: Creative Q&A with Orson Card

    ByJohn Brown

    Back when Orson Card first started his online magazine Intergalactic Medicine Show, he wrote an essay in which he detailed how he developed the idea for one of the short stories he told in his Ender universe. Card’s essay is a valuable resource because he exposes his mental thought process, modeling how he approaches story development.  It’s not often that an expert takes the time to expose his mental thought process while working through something, and there’s always a lot to learn when they do.  Interestingly enough, it illustrates a number of the principles in the Story Development Framework.

    Please read How One Story Can Give Birth to Another by Orson Scott Card.

    While you are reading it, watch for:

    1. How often he uses questions as he develops the story.
    2. How story objectives influenced what he wrote.  For example, why didn’t he write from Peter’s point of view, and how did he want to portray the mother?
    3. How story principles guided his development.  For example, what were the three ways to get an audience’s interest and how did that affect the story development?
    4. What he did when his zing suggested he go another way.  Did he end up writing the story he set out to at first? (Card listens to his Spidey-sense, what he cares about and believes in, quite a bit.)
    5. What his first draft provided him.  What does this say about using drafts to help you develop the story? 
    6. How he used the four-scene “plan” he sketched of the story.  How did that outline help him?  When he had that, was he finished developing the story?
    7. How he uses improvising to continue the development as he drafts.  What did he need in order to improvise? And what was he actually doing?

    Did you notice the elements of the story–problem, character, plot, and setting?  Did you notice how his development continued while working on the text (drafting)?

    One thing I don’t think you should take away from this is that you must write exactly like Orson Card.  That you must not include much setting.  Or that your sketches of the plot, the “plan” of the story, needs to be just like his.  You may enjoy more setting than Card.  You may want more or less in your sketch.  That’s fine.  The goal here isn’t to suggest you follow his exact procedure and have his exact same objectives.  It’s to see how authors use creative Q&A to develop a story, to make it come to life.

    As a final side note, I would like to quibble with one thing Card says.  A lot of folks talk about showing and telling in writing.  The eleventh commandment is to “Show, don’t tell.”  But I would like to suggest that writers actually never show anything.  They can’t.  It’s all tell, tell, tell. 

    Showing requires the original sensory input.  So a movie can show.  A stage play can show.  Both can also provide raw auditory input.  But all an author can show are marks on a page.  Those marks guide a reader into imagining events, people, and things, but it’s telling–“imagine this, imagine that, now imagine this.”  The author can tell in scene or summary.  Both have their place.  But it’s important to realize that we’re helping the reader imagine.  I don’t have time to go into the implications of this right now, but try the idea on for a while and ask yourself what type of writing helps you imagine things more vividly.

    For more in this series, see How to Get and Develop Story Ideas

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  • Villainous Heroes

    ByJohn Brown

    If we root against villains based on moral judgments, then how is it possible to root for heroes who are not just bad boys but down right criminal, e.g. hitmen, mobsters, thieves?

    It’s a wonderful question that has a simple and revealing explanation.  We root for these bad guys because they’re really good.

    What?!

    When talking about bad heroes, what we often do is:

    1. Take them out of their context.
    2. Focus on one or two negative traits, not the person as a whole.
    3. Abstract them and miss what’s happening in real time as we process the story. We only have so much working memory and usually can only think about what’s being presented versus what we think about when we’re out of the story. What’s being presented in the story is mostly the threats to these heroes, not the consequences of their evil deeds. And if the consequences are show, it’s always modified by context (#1 and #2 above).
    4. Confuse fascination with rooting.

    When we actually look at what’s happening with the hero in the context of the story, what we find is that rooting is still based on moral judgments of who is good/right and who is not. We root for people we think are in the right (given their context) or are getting, undeservedly, the short end of the stick; we root against people who we think are in the wrong.

    Here are some examples.

    DISNEY’S ALADDIN

    Thief. This one’s easy, I grant it. But it’s illustrative. I never once didn’t root for the boy. But I also never saw him as a true bad boy. He was nice. He shared the bread he stole with kids less fortunate. The guards were mean brutes. Jaffar was wicked and threatened the sultan and Jasmine who were good and innocent. was in a situation that provided some leeway for his behavior (alone, penniless).

    1. Context. He’s fighting a much greater evil, someone we are rooting against.
    2. Whole Person. He is a thief, but he’s also kind. Given his whole person, he falls on the side of good.
    3. Processing. As we process the story we’re never shown awful consequnces of his theiving. Mostly just the good and courageous things he does. And the threats to his welfare.

    THE ITALIAN JOB

    Thieves.

    1. Context. The movie starts with a heist and then a betrayal and murders by a traitor. Yes they’re theives, but we wittness a greater evil. The people they fight against are worse than they are.
    2. Whole person. Except for the thieving, he’s a likeable guy.
    3. Processing. We see few negative consequences of their actions to others, but we are constantly being presented with threats to them by guys who are committing greater crimes.
    4. Fascination. I was incredibly interested in the scam–the plans, tech, everything.

    THE PROFESSIONAL

    Mob Hit Man

    1. Context. He’s protecting a girl from other hit men. He’s fighting a bigger evil. He’s also taken advantage of by his boss.
    2. Whole Person. He’s a hitman, but more time is spent on his kindness.
    3. Processing. We see very little of the effect his hits have on others. Instead we are presented with threats to the girl and him.

    DIRTY HARRY

    Murdering vigilante

    1. Context. He’s stopping guys who are doing terrible things.
    3. Processing. We don’t focus on negative consequences of his vigilantism, but the threats from these really bad guys.

    MATCHSTICK MEN

    Scammers of the elderly

    From IMDB “Roy’s private life, however, is not so successful. An obsessive-compulsive agoraphobe with no personal relationships to call his own, Roy is barely hanging on to his wits, and when his idiosyncrasies begin to threaten his criminal productivity he’s forced to seek the help of a psychoanalyst just to keep him in working order. While Roy is looking for a quick fix, his therapy begets more than he bargained for: the revelation that he has a teenage daughter–a child whose existence he suspected but never dared confirm. What’s more troubling, 14-year-old Angela wants to meet the father she never knew. At first, Angela’s appearance disrupts her neurotic father’s carefully ordered routine. Soon, however, with his own unique spin on parenthood, Roy begins to enjoy a relationship he never dreamed of having with his daughter.”

    1. Context. Much of the time is spent his on his loneliness and issues with his estranged daughter.
    2. Whole person. He steals, but we never see huge suffering from it. We see all the other issues he deals and have sympathy for him.
    3. Processing. We’re focused on the threats to him, not the consequences of his one negative trait.
    4. Fascination. I was fascinated by the scam and this pulled me along through the first.

    CONCLUSION

    What happened in all these stories as I experienced them was that the story carefully managed my view of the hero. He was always on the better side of the antagonists. He was always more good than bad, even if only by a little. And the story focused my attention most of the time on the bad/threats/consequences flowing from the antagonists, not the bad from the hero’s deeds.

    What this shows is that you could write a story about a villain and make him the hero. In some instances it might be exceedingly difficult. For example, I think Hitler would be a hard sell as a hero, someone we’d root for. But the Neo-Nazis prove it’s not too hard a sell for some people. 

    I don’t think recognizing the fact that we can make “bad” people sympathetic means authors are “simply being clever” or “pushing buttons.” After all, to write well you must believe and care about what you’re writing about. YOU have to believe it. Nor do I think it undercuts the notion that we root for people based on a moral stance. It just recognizes the fact that moral judgments, in fact, the vast majority of appraisals of situations, happen quickly with the facts at hand, which are the ones in our working memories. The ones the authors are controlling.

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  • Generating Story 6: The Story Development Framework

    ByJohn Brown

    Folks, it’s been almost six months since I added anything to my series on how to get and develop killer story ideas.  There’s a reason it’s been so long—I’ve been heads-down trying to develop my own stories. 

    I have allotted myself only so much time for writing each day, and when things have to give, unfortunately, it’s my blog that goes first.  Actually, the social media goes first, which is why I have such a lame Facebook and Twitter presence. Of course, if anyone contacts me directly using the link in the sidebar or comments on a post, I always respond promptly.

    Anyway, I wish I had more time, but I do have a day job.  I also have wonderful wife and four daughters, and I simply can’t miss my opportunity to enjoy them while they’re here.  For example, we just did an eight-hour roundtrip trek out to Roosevelt, Utah to attend the commencement ceremonies of my daughter who is graduating with her Associates degree from one of the state universities one month before she receives her High School diploma.  Yes, you read that correctly.  It’s all part of the concurrent enrollment program we have that’s a godsend for those of us who live in rural areas.  That was also the day of my 23rd wedding anniversary to a most excellent and wonderful wife and mom, who would like to think of herself as a large cat, something like a jaguar, but who is more like a horse—sleek, beautiful, and good for something.  Nellie’s a rock. 

    So all that blather to say I haven’t had much time, but I am happy to announce I’ve got something for you today.  I think you will find quite helpful. 

    The Framework

    One of the problems new writers run into is that they don’t know where to start or how to proceed.  This is the same with any complex endeavor.  In my day job, I’ve been teaching some fairly complex things for a number of years, and I’ve found that when you give students a framework for learning, it makes everything SO MUCH EASIER.  Show them the forest first, then the trees.  When you give people a structure, a mental schema, it frees up their working memory so they don’t get overloaded. 

    But it’s useful for more than learning about something.  When we try to do something complex, it’s so much easier when we break the task down into its parts and outline clear objectives, guidelines, and tools for each part.

    I realized that I haven’t really done that here.  I’ve given the general framework for the three things you need to learn to write stories—(1) what stories do, (2) how they do it, and (3) how to develop them.  But I haven’t given one for development. So here it is.

    There are three parts to the framework:

    1. The development OBJECTIVES.
    2. The development PRINCIPLES for each objective.
    3. The development TOOLS you use to help you with each objective.

    Each post I’ve made about writing stories and each post I will make in the future will explain some part of the framework.  For example, the 27-part series Key Conditions for Suspense that I wrote for SFWA explains key principles and concepts for character, problem, and plot.  The post in this series on the Story Setup explains a tool that can be used to help you develop your story’s problem. And so on. What the framework should give you is a map, a guide to help you know what to do and how to do it.

    The Development Objectives

    Let’s start with the objectives. A story is made up of just a few main parts.  I’ve found I’m most productive when I keep the objectives for those parts foremost in my mind and when I keep the list of objectives simple.  Having too many objectives makes it almost impossible to move forward. Here are the objectives I have when I’m developing a story.

     

    Area Development Objectives
    GENERAL Make the story come alive in my own mind
    GENRE Define the overall type of story I want to write
    CHARACTER Develop characters who move and delight me
    SETTING Develop a setting that interests me and feels real
    PROBLEM Develop a story problem that I find compelling
    PLOT Help the reader hope and fear for my character
    TEXT Evoke the story in the reader’s mind

     

    Your job is to develop the story, making it come alive in your mind, then write it in a way that will evoke it in the reader’s mind. You do that by focusing on the objectives you see above.

    Note that I do NOT develop these areas in any special order because ideas for any of the six parts could come at any time. And because I’m focused on the objectives, I don’t get trapped into activity for activity’s sake.  I don’t do character histories because a big name author said that’s what I should do.  I don’t do outlines because everyone I know does them.  I don’t do any activity just because it’s on some list.  I work to accomplish something.  And the things I want to accomplish are listed above.

    Development Principles & Concepts

    Once we know what we’re after, we need to understand the principles and concepts that will help us develop those things.  For example, what kinds of characters “move” and “delight”?  What makes a story problem “compelling”?  What makes readers hope and fear for a character?

    If I don’t understand the principles and concepts that underlie each of the objectives, I’m going to have a difficult time meeting that objective.  So let’s add in the key principles and concepts I’ve found that help me meet those objectives.   

    Area Development Objectives Development Principles & Concepts
    GENERAL     Make the story come alive in my own mind       Focus on developing the 6 core parts of story (genre, character, setting, problem, plot, text) in no special sequence
    Gather zing: use a drag net and hunt with a purpose
    Generate my own zing
    Develop in iterations
    Practice farmer’s faith
    Write what you care about and believe in: listen to your personal Spidey-sense
    Make enough time
    Relax and have fun
    GENRE Define the overall type of story I want to write Reader expectations
    Tropes and patterns
    CHARACTER Develop characters who move and delight me Sympathy
    Deservingness
    Interest
    Types and roles
    Cast sizing
    SETTING Develop a setting that interests me and feels real   How things work
    Telling details
    What’s necessary
    PROBLEM Develop a story problem that I find compelling Hope and fear
    The 3 main types of problems
    Character goals
    Opposition
    Problems that speak to the reader (theme)
    PLOT    Help the reader hope and fear for my character     Suspense
    Surprise
    Curiosity
    The 3 phases of a story’s problem structure
    The story cycle
    Patterns
    TEXT               Evoke the story in the reader’s mind           Telling to evoke
    Clarity
    Working memory limitations
    Stimulus-response order
    The story cycle
    Scenes and summary
    Point of view
    Beginnings & endings
    Poetic devices, Sound and rhythm
    Mechanics

     

    Now let’s see how I’d use the framework.  Let’s say I want to work on developing character.  Sometimes my drag net pulls in great character ideas without much effort on my part at all.  But sometimes what I drag in needs some development.  And sometimes I don’t have anything in my net at all and need to generate something from scratch. 

    When it’s time to develop character, I’ve found that if I focus on the key things that trigger my sympathy for someone, my feeling that they deserve reward or punishment, and my interest in them, it’s much easier to develop a character that rocks, one that moves and delights and thrills me.  It also helps me to think about the roles my characters play.  So I’ll apply the principles one way when developing a sidekick and another when developing a villain.  Finally, there are only so many words in a novel. I need to manage my stage time.  If I have too many characters, I might not have enough stage time to develop any story in a satisfactory way.  If I have too few, I might run into problems with structure and plot.

    Let’s say I want to work on my story problem.  Well, I’d focus on the things that make readers hope and fear for my character.  I’d brainstorm options for the three main story problem types.  I’d make sure my I knew what the goals were for my protagonist and antagonist.

    Do you see how this works?

    Once you get enough material developed in each of the story categories (character, setting, problem, plot, and text), the story will come alive in your mind.  And then it’s just a matter of finishing the text so that it evokes the story in the reader’s mind. 

    Some may wonder why I included text as part of development.  Don’t you develop the story first and then translate it to the text?  No.  A lot of development happens as you write the text.  For example, it’s hard for me to get my character’s voice and attitude without putting him or her on the page.  

    If you go back and look at the list again, you’ll see that the principles and concepts supporting the objectives for genre, character, setting, problem, plot, and text have a lot to do with how story works.  On the other hand, the principles supporting the general objective of having the story come to life in my own mind focus on how we develop stories.

    In this series, I’ve been focusing on the principles of how we develop stories.  But you’ll also want to continue to enlarge your understanding of how stories work.  For more on the principles for character, problem, and plot, see my 27-part series I wrote for SFWA on the Key Conditions for Suspense.

    Development Tools

    Now that we’ve identified what we’re supposed to develop and the principles that support those objectives, it’s helpful to see the different types of tools we can use to help us meet our objectives.

    A tool is just that—something we use to accomplish some objective.  Chimps use sticks to help them fish termites out of holes. Bakers use beaters to help them mix batters. Mechanics have tools to help them turn screws and nuts. Writers have tools to help them do what they need to do.

    I’ve listed the tools I’ve found useful. I know you may not know what a number of them are. That’s okay. In the series I’ll explain what each is and how to use it.  For now just look over the list.  And because I can’t figure out how to make my blankety-blank tables look snazzy with the WPress template and controls I have, I’ve provided a PDF of the framework here instead. Click on the link below to download it.

    John Brown’s Story Development Framework v2012-05-12

    Did you notice that for each set of tools I also list “Other . . .” That’s because there are many tools that authors find useful.  Try them.  Keep the ones you find productive and toss the rest.  This isn’t an exhaustive or mandatory list.

    And remember that the key thing isn’t the tool.  The objective is.  The tool is simply a means to help you meet the objective.  And so you don’t have to use all the tools.  You don’t have to use any of them.  Because the goal is NOT to use a tool.  The goal is to develop the story.

    For example, if you already have a rocking problem, there’s no need to use a tool to get one.  If you’re doing a character history and suddenly hit gold, you don’t have to finish all the prompts in your history document.  You don’t have to because this is NOT about filling out forms.  It’s about making the story come alive in your mind.  Sometimes you need only a little development to get the ideas, sometimes you need a lot.

    Bottom line: focus on the objectives.  Keep developing material until you have enough in each of area that the story is bucking and kicking in your hands.

    And, again, don’t worry about developing the objectives in a certain sequence because there isn’t a best sequence.  With one story you might start with a little character, then a bit of setting, then some text, then more character, then problem, then plot, the back to character, then setting again, then something else, a bit here, an idea there.  On another story you might start with a scrap of text or something somebody said and go to plot then character then genre and then back to each one again and again, building up line by line in some other way.

    There is no golden development sequence!  Just keep the objectives in mind, and keep your eyes open for ideas that you can use to meet each objective.

    Where to start

    Having laid the framework out, I know some might be wondering where to start, especially after I told you it didn’t matter where you started.  You’re wondering this because the fact is that it IS nice to have some guidance.

    And because it really doesn’t matter how you meet the objectives, and because most ideas come when you’re on the move, then there’s a great benefit in simply starting with any method you have at hand.  So let’s not fall prey to an attack of dithering brought on by option overload.  If you don’t know where to start, try this.

    1.    Take Stock

    First, identify a number of slots this week and next when you can work on your story. Try to get at least ten hours each week. You may find your slots in the morning, during breaks, at lunch, late at night.  Just find some times that work for you.

    When that first time slot comes, take stock of the ideas you have right now, the zing you’ve gathered or generated to this point, and make a rough summary.  Do you have any bits of character, problem, or plot?  Have you delved into your setting?  Do you have an idea of the story genre?  Do you have any inkling about the type of story this will be, e.g. is this going to be a story about cyber security, love, friendship, vampires, spies, World War 2, two old fisherman and the mafia?

    Summarize what you have in just one or two pages. Or maybe you only have one line. That’s okay too.  Write it down.

    2.    200 Words

    When you’ve finished step one, ask yourself what genre of story you’d like to write.  Maybe you have two or three genres you’re interested in.  Maybe you want to write some mix—a cowboy science fiction, an epic fantasy comedy, a romantic thriller.  Think about what kind of story you would like to read.  Think about the kind of characters, plots, and settings you enjoy.  The kind of experience you would love to have when reading.  Write two paragraphs summarizing your thoughts. 200 words or less.

    3.    ID Some Patterns

    Third, identify two or three other stories that are kind of like the one you think you might want to write.  Write the titles of these stories down even if they’re only vaguely in the ball park. Now answer these questions about them:

    1. Size

    • How many words or pages was in each book?
    • How many chapters?

    2. Characters

    • How many main characters did each have?
    • How many points of view?
    • What did you like about the characters?
    • What would you do different with the characters?

    3. Problem & Plot

    • What was the protagonist’s main problem?
    • What did the antagonist want?
    • What were the cool plot points or surprises?

    4. What else was cool about the story?

    Now go the extra mile and outline the plot in two pages or less.  Just do little bullet points.

    Did you get any ideas for your story from this?  Anything you want to copy or twist?  If so, write it down.

    4.    Go Zing Hunting

    Fourth, identify the main character, setting, problem, or plot ideas that are drawing your interest.  Decide to go hunt some zing with a purpose.  Pick one of the ideas you think will be a big part of the story, go to the library, and get some books on that thing.  Start with books for juveniles if they have them, then work into more hefty tomes.  Identify some documentaries or films on the subject.  Check them out.  Or get them on Netflix.  Read and watch, keeping your eye out for ideas that might work for your six core story objectives.

    Is there someone you can talk to who has first-hand experience with this thing?  If so, call or visit them and ask them some questions.

    Can you go experience it first hand?  If so, do it.

    Did you get any ideas for your story from this?  If so, big or small, write them down.

    5.    Review

    Fifth, review the zing you’ve captured to this point.  Note anything that pops out to you.  Can you write your story concept down yet (the character, the setting, the goal, and the main opposition and obstacle he or she will face)?  Give it a try.

    If not, no biggie.  Review the seven development objectives to fix them in your mind.

    6.    Generate Some Character and Problem

    Sixth, flip a coin.  Heads you’ll start generating character.  Tails you’ll start generating story problems.  Review the principles for the part of story the coin toss determined you’d work on, then begin generating as many options as possible for that part of story.

    If you’re generating character ideas, list all the types of characters commonly associated with the big idea you’ve been researching.  Try to get at least ten on the list.  Maybe you’ll include some specific people you ran across in your research.  Then list a bunch of types of characters not commonly associated.  Maybe throw in a few people you know who might be fun to base a character on.  Identify characters from each list you think might enjoy writing.  Generate a few more.  Let’s say three.  Don’t be afraid to be wacky.  If you have to, include Chuck Norris as the last one.

    If you’re generating problem, list the threats, opportunities, and mysteries commonly associated with the topic you’ve been researching.  Get at least ten.  Make sure you include some big, significant ones that really speak to you.  If you’re going for comedy, add in some smaller ones.  Think of your favorite comedy show, e.g. Jerry Seinfeld, and ask the types of problems those characters might run into here.  Now list problems that are not commonly associated with this idea.  Try for at least ten.  Identify problems from both lists you think might be fun.  Generate three more.  Don’t afraid to be a bit wacky.

    Now switch.  If you did characters first, do problems and vice versa.

    Did you get any ideas for your story from this?  If so, write them down.

    7.    Generate Some Plot

    Finally, think about the type of problem your character is facing.  If you have a couple of problems you’re deciding between, or perhaps a story where a character has a couple of story lines (maybe an inner one and an external one), choose one to work with.  You can develop the others later.  

    Write up the character’s goal in 50 words or less.  Now list out the steps people like your character would usually take to solve the type of problem you are working with.  Try to avoid having your character do dumb things.  Let them be smart.  If you have no idea how anyone would go about solving that type of problem, go do some research.  Talk to someone who might know.

    Once you’ve sketched out those general steps, generate a list of at least 12 disadvantages, obstacles, conflicts, or surprises your character could run into that would make it really hard to solve the problem and reach his or her goal.  Some of the items on your list can be small; others might throw the character for a major loop.  Again, if you can’t think of any obstacles or quickly run out of ideas, go do some research.  Talk to someone who might know.

    Now look at this from the antagonist’s point of view.  What’s his goal?  Write up the antagonist’s goal in 50 words or less.  What are some common steps a smart and determined (maybe ruthless) person like your antagonist would take to go about removing the problem the hero is causing? 

    Did you get any ideas for your story from this?  If so, write them down.

    And Now?

    At this point, you should be well into the development of your story.  It’s up to you how to proceed.  Maybe you want to write an exploratory draft of a few chapters to get the character’s voice and start defining the setting.  Maybe you’ve discovered you need to research a bit about something specific like sharks or Cessna airplanes or the tactics of Napoleonic armies.  Or maybe you feel it’s time to sketch out a general outline of the plot.  Or maybe you want to review the principles and concepts of one of the story parts.  Or maybe it’s not that at all.  Maybe you want to watch or read some stories in your genre to see how they did it.  There are a lot of things you could do.

    Pick something and do it.  There’s great power in simply getting to work.  Continue to develop the various parts of your story.  And if you feel ready to start writing a draft, then start writing the draft, even if you peter out after only one scene. 

    Remember the objectives.  Keep working on them.  Sooner or later, I guarantee you, the story will open its eyes and look up at you.  It will not come to you fully fleshed out.  But you’ll have enough to switch your focus to drafting.

    When I get to that point and my mind is juiced with some interesting characters in an interesting and compelling situation, I usually capture the essence of the story by writing some form of the Story Setup.  Then I write a simple working outline, which is nothing more than a bullet point sketch of how my character runs into his problem, his response, some of the obstacles he faces, and the results of that action, which leads to trouble, which leads to more action, etc.  It also includes the same for my antagonist.  This is story cycle stuff.  I might include a few key details I need for the scenes I’m listing out.  Or not.  Furthermore, I might be able to envision the whole thing at this point and write an outline that reflects that.  Or I might see only the first few scenes clearly and have to be satisfied with a general sketch of what happens later.  That’s not a big deal because development continues as you’re drafting.  The key is that the story is alive in my mind, and I know in general what it’s about and where I’m going.  It’s enough to begin.  And so I begin to write chapter one (if I haven’t written it already).

    Good luck!

    In the next post I’m going to explain how to generate your own zing using Creative Q&A.  Hopefully, I’ll get to it before another six months has passed :O

    For more in this series, see How to Get and Develop Story Ideas

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  • Advice to new writers

    ByJohn Brown

    Recently a fellow writer brought up this post by author Kameron Hurley. He has a lot of interesting things to say (and some cool covers in his sidebar). A Steve Martin quote features prominently: “Be so good they can’t ignore you.”

    That sounds like excellent advice, doesn’t it?

    Until you start to think about it.

    Are there authors out there who strive to be just okay? That set goals to be mediocre?

    “Marge, keep the kids away! Bring me no lunch. Because today, do or die, I am determined to write a middling tale about lukewarm characters with a so-so plot!”

    !?

    I believe our writer of measley aspirations just might just be a strawman.

    Be good enough they can’t ignore you, Martin says.

    Wow, sounds good. Except let’s test it out. Let’s take some of the least-ignored authors of our day.

    For millions of readers J. K. Rowling is NOT a great writer. And neither is Harper Lee. Or Steven King. Or Orson Card. Or Brandon Sanderson. Or Lee Child. Or Nora Roberts. Or whomever. Insert whom you will–the vast majority of the reading public ignores or eschews them.

    The vast majority of the reading public is not moved by them in the least.

    Stephenie Meyer is a great writer for some. She gave them such a moving experience they dress up and relive it all at balls. She’s a horrible writer for others. Most people haven’t read her or gone to see her movies.

    The Bible is THE most life-changing, most moving book that millions have read. For others it’s a piece of trash.

    It seems that following Martin’s advice is a really good way to lose a lot of time galavanting after shrubberies only to then have your throat ripped out by the Rabbit of Caerbannog.

    Woe is me, for I should have stayed home with my lovely wench and lovely children and eaten more peas and read about sparrows. Zounds, but the blood my mother gavest me, at nine-month cost, now flows silently onto the sterile rocks. . .

    You can create great product, stuff made with extraordinary skill, and still not be Great because you’re earth-shattering stuff speaks to and shatters only a small portion of readers.

    I say forget greatness!

    Just sing. And revel in the singing. And the new songs your voice can carry as your skill grows. And share that reveling with all who enjoy such singing.

    Because it’s not about greatness. It’s about the song.

    And then go home and enjoy the laughter and coversation of the woman/man at your hearth, the children/cats at your feet, and the lovely taste of the fresh green peas.

    (Dear me, I believe I just equated children with cats. And yet, does it not sound just right?)

    John, you ask, what about goals? What about being all you can be? Are you saying it’s okay to schlub your way through life and writing?

    You must choose your own path. But I would never say don’t have goals. Nor would I say don’t try to write the best book possible . . . for the particular type of story you’re trying to tell.

    I think we all benefit by singing our types of songs to the very best of our ability and then trying to enlarge that ability as much as we can.

    That generates more joy in the giver and the receiver.

    But the quest to be Great so some amorphous “they” (who is they?) can’t ignore you seems foolish. It disregards the idea that it’s impossible to write great books for all audiences. But that’s not its only problem. It also seems to be all about the writer, and not the sharing. Me-me-me is, ultimately, such a hollow prize.

    It seems to me that it’s so much better to quest after singing, not to be noticed, but to deliver a service that I and the reciever can both rejoice in together. And then to increase that joy.

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