Favoring rebellious heroes

Posted on October 13, 2022 by knlistman

As much as people are willing to mimic the behavior of others in order to fit in, they often secretly wish for the strength to show dissent. We admire the person who has the guts to do what we dare not do  – challenge group norms. So the heroes of novels are often the wildcards, impetuous, untamed but with a good heart. We love to cheer on these principled rebels.

They challenge both higher ups and friends, not because they are disloyal, but because they want to incite those with power to help others. In fiction the hero often sways the fence-riding group to rebel against the villain by the use of stirring altruistic words. And, sometimes the hero engages in a knock-down, drag-out physical fight, too. But what occurs in real life? In a true uphill struggle by the minority voice of dissent to influence the majority, the rebel with a cause must be consistent. Consistency is not necessarily the hobgoblin of small minds.

Group dynamics affect the challenge of being a real-life rebel with a cause. Social groups tend to seek consensus so that everybody can get along. The fact that everybody else seems to hold the same opinion provides enough validation for most people to follow a leader. Once they have committed themselves, they don’t really want to hear someone who questions their ideas. In the novel, when the hero questions the consensus, they run the risk of being excluded. This of course creates a nice plot twist. Although the hero will not change colors, those that back this character risk exclusion, too. Just as in real life, the group excludes those supporting the person who questions their authority.[1]

Persistence on the part of the minority is their major weapon. The majority group starts with the assumption that the rebel is not correct but the persistence on his or her part creates a conundrum. “How can they be so sure and yet so wrong?”[2] If the rebel view is going to have any chance of gaining a following the supporters must remain consistent over time. If sticking to their guns is seen as attention seeking, or a rigid belief rather than consistency, it will fail.

Also, the rebel with a cause does not have the luxury of both ‘winning friends’ and ‘influencing people.’ Rebels may influence others by remaining adamant in their position, but most people will not like them. And, the rebel hero must remain strong when punished by the status quo. Any attempt to gain support through appeasement may result in influence going down the drain.[2]

Basically, the uniform view of the majority is never as solid as it appears. Many people conform not because they agree with the large groups, but because they fear exclusion. However, timing is everything when trying to convert private dissenters into open rebels. This works in fiction plots as well. The hero must speak up before members of the group have a chance to act based on the mistaken majority beliefs. When people comply with a demand, and then someone criticizes that demand, they tend to take the criticism personally.

It is those waffling fence-sitters who cling tightly to their fence that are most willing to admire the person who dissents on principle.[2] When the rebel with a cause voices an opinion that they secretly hold, these secondary characters slide off the fence in his or her direction. They have a sense of liberating relief that they can now do the right thing.

 “Indeed, people may speak up and dissent from important group norms not because they want to be difficult and destructive, but because they care for the group and its future.”[3]

[1] Levine, J.M. and Vernon L. Allen, V.L. (1968) Reactions to Attitudinal Deviancy, Report from the Per Group Pressures on Learning Project. Vernon L. Allen, Principal Investigator. Wisconsin Research and Development Center for Cognitive Learning, The University of Wisconsin

[2] Nemeth, C. J. & Jack A. Goncalo, J.A. (2011) Rogues and Heroes: Finding Value in Dissent.  In J. Jetten, and M.J. Hornsey,(eds) Rebels in Groups: Dissent, Deviance, Difference, and Defiance. 2011 Blackwell Publishing Ltd[1] Monin, B.and and O’Connor, K. (2011) Reactions to Defiant Deviants-Deliverance or Defensiveness? In J. Jetten, and M.J. Hornsey,(eds) Rebels in Groups: Dissent, Deviance, Difference, and Defiance. 2011 Blackwell Publishing Ltd

[3] Levine, J.M. and Vernon L. Allen, V.L. (1968) Reactions to Attitudinal Deviancy, Report from the Per Group Pressures on Learning Project. Vernon L. Allen, Principal Investigator. Wisconsin Research and Development Center for Cognitive Learning, The University of Wisconsin

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Woman on a Tightrope

Posted on October 6, 2022 by knlistman

Recently the movie Not Okay hit a nerve by using “Unlikeable female protagonist” as one of the content warnings for its rating. What did the likability of the main character have to do with identifying the appropriate audience for this film? Nothing. This explanation was intended to be satirical, but it does point to a disparity in judging film and television characters.

There is a list of protagonists pulling off nastier stunts than faking a kidnapping. Misanthropic and pain-killer addicted Dr. Gregory House frequently disparaged his coworkers, exhibiting almost zero sympathy. Walter White was a down-in-the-dumps high school science teacher that fought the law rather than his cancer by manufacturing methamphetamines for sale on the street. People did not accuse them of being unlikeable male protagonists.

Why is there pressure to make female protagonists more likable than their male counterparts? A male protagonist can be anywhere on the range from handsome to ugly, sly to simple, strong to scrawny, or sophisticated to blunt, and still be considered likable as long as they show strength in at least one area. The female protagonist has to walk a tightrope.

The narrowest measure is that of beauty. But, this comes with subtle indicators that affect other characteristics. For example, the female lead can be physically strong but should not look musclebound. They can be older, as long as they look young. I recall an author showing off a cover with a female character that he assumed would read as a physically strong mature female. Her expression was tough, but her physical appearance was not, and she looked all of sixteen.

According to the Reysen Likability Scale, attractiveness is a major determinant of likability for females, and people are also pickier about the quantity of a woman’s laughter. The giggles of women in movies and films are reflected in real life. Women laugh as they talk, but not because they’ve found anything funny to laugh about.  

This trend has hit close to home for me. My novella about a very intelligent, but not attractive female sparring with an attractive, manipulative male gained the comment “your female character is not likable.” One person went so far to say, “The problem is that she has low self-esteem.” My character had the opposite problem. She understood exactly where her ability lay and refused to give into playing dumb.

Finally, one person grew brave and defended her, “She reminds me of Daria Morgendorffer. I actually like her because she’s different.” As a person who doesn’t spend much time watching TV, I had to research Daria. She is a cartoon character and a teenager who is a bit pessimistic, not interested in fashion, and unfortunately, knows how to use her brain.

In film, the ideal female seems to be gorgeous and not intelligent enough to realize how good she looks. We are long overdue for characters who break this mold.

Posted in Characters, Drama and movies, Laughter and humor, Optimism and Pessimism, Self confidence, Writer's resource | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

How Does Literacy Change Books?

Posted on September 29, 2022 by knlistman

The title may seem like a curious question. However, I wanted to trace how the increasing percentage of people who could read changes the publishing business. Do the types of books favored by the public change as a population becomes more literate?

Prior to the seventeenth century many books and shorter works were self-published. The author simply paid the printer, or scribe, and distributed the books themselves. There were fewer manuscripts go around. Authors writing fiction openly borrowed characters and plots from other writers without fear of copyright infringement. However, with smaller populations and an even smaller percentage of literate people, those that did read had a larger grasp of past literature. 

Literary canons based on the best works evolved because the people that read shared a bit more in common. Authors often alluded to works by other authors. These allusions allowed the readers to rapidly understand the situation in a book or drama. Even prior to the twentieth century people who spent time reading had different expectations from authors. They were willing to deal with more subtle writing and dig for clues that were not as obvious. They desired more complex stories which meant more reading between the lines. 

Within the twentieth century came the trend towards writing in a lean manner with concise descriptions. Part of this had to do with the availability of motion pictures in which there are not descriptions of the characters or setting. One simply looks at them. Much of the story is told through dialog. Now, people write books with the goal of them becoming  movies, full of action with minimal details. However, movies taken from past classics leave out huge chunks of the complex plots found in these novels. This becomes evident when watching films based on Les Miserables or Anna Karenina, and comparing them to their respective books. 

So, how does the increase in literacy affect what is written? The number of published books has exploded. Authors expect to have sole rights to their work, but cannot prevent a person from creating another fairly similar book. Readers seem willing to consume work that is more similar and familiar, with an ending they already know. Publishers are looking for these kinds of “comps.” There is no longer a reliable canon of work that most readers know in any particular culture. Therefore, the author has to explain the allusions to other works for these to be understood.

In the twenty-first century, there are five levels of literacy most often used in assessments, but recently the top two levels have been merged because such a small percent read at the top level. Still, every so often a book is written that throws out the expectations. The scenes multiply the reader’s understanding rather than simply adding to it. In an extremely well written story, clues are added slowly so the reader has to think to catch on to what is occurring. Stories still exist that require the reader to be invested in making sense of them.

How many authors long to write a book that is more than the sum of its parts?

1 https://www.wyliecomm.com/2021/08/whats-the-latest-u-s-literacy-rate/

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Buying into a Binary

Posted on September 22, 2022 by knlistman

Writing which shows is almost always touted as superior to writing that tells. Examples of this are filled with intriguing dialog, exciting actions accompanied by descriptive detail filled with aromas, colors, and noises. On the other hand, telling explains who people are in an easy to comprehend manner and is described as plain vanilla. Some people forget that vanilla is also a spice. 

Often my romantic comedy scenes are filled with the quirky conversations interspersed with subtle movements. I include interior thoughts straight from the protagonist’s mind to inform the reader. That’s necessary because not all characters speak the truth. However, at one point in my story I switched the style to something more direct for a lengthy flashback about the leading man’s first crush. A beta reader noted a difference in the style of this chapter that she liked. There was almost no dialog and sparse details. Yet this passage related the events from a few weeks of his life in a manner that reflected the irony of the situation. I hesitated to tell her the truth about the difference but finally admitted, “I changed my style from showing to telling to cover events more quickly.” 

Of course, my confession runs completely counter to the adage that showing is preferable. Supposedly, showing draws the reader into the story and telling will pull them out of it. Some people are drawn to describing good-bad dichotomies that split anything in half, including the world’s literature. They want to create a binary down to the level of minutia to ensure that their work is unquestionably “good.” There are even lists of “telling” words.

Using “in” followed by an emotion is basically forbidden as a form of telling. The writer should say the woman clenches her fists rather than glares in anger. Which phrase is better depends on the point of view. The man standing across the room sees the glare long before he notes the marks left by fingernails digging into her palms. Also the reader doesn’t have to decipher that when a woman lifts their cheeks, curls up the ends of her lips and squints that she is smiling in glee. 

Near the top of the list of words that signal telling is “to” when used to form an infinitive.

“The man slammed on the brake to pull off the road.” — telling 

“The man slammed on the brake and pulled off the road.” — showing

What is the difference? The first sentence provides a motivation that the reader could not detect if watching the man. It explains why he slowed down. The second example only provides what can be seen. Most readers don’t even notice the difference.

 The word “realized” is also a big no-no. A realization describes what a character is thinking inside and not just what they do on the outside. The examples that I found for replacing “realized” and other “telling” words lead to an insight of my own. Replacing phrases that were told with phrases that showed doubled or tripled the amount of words. So, stories that only show (if any actually exist) are huge volumes that readers may have a hard time wading through. Sometimes, the plot needs to move forward faster, so a direct style boosts interest. Authors choose which style to use based on the desired pace. And exactly what criteria do they use to decide this? Their own gut instincts. Creative processes don’t fit neatly inside little boxes.

Posted in Creativity, Literature, Showing versus telling, Story structure, Style and voice | 1 Comment

The Lead-footed Writer

Posted on September 15, 2022 by knlistman

In movies when an event is crucial to survival (such as disarming a bomb) the clock keeps ticking away on until the last minute as the hero tries to figure out which wire to cut. He wipes the sweat off his eyes so he can see. He may drop the wire cutters and have to retrieve them. Or, he pulls a Swiss Army knife out of his pocket to use instead. By the time this scene is over, the hero manages to sever the right wire at the last second. However, if I timed the scene, I would realize that more than one minute of actual time had passed.

A book which tells events, rather than showing them in detail, covers events much more rapidly so the pace of the story is technically faster. But, it also feels more distant for the readers as if they are not really involved. Showing minute details of events in clear focus slows down the story. In fact, it slows it down so much that this treatment needs to be reserved for the more dramatic and important occurrences, such as disarming a bomb.

The way I string together words and the type of words I use also contribute to the “pace” of writing. Longer sentences with a plethora of subordinate clauses provide an intellectual sound. The reader takes more time to ponder the ideas presented, which gives the impression of complexity. This also forces the reader to slog through the work. Short sentences with direct verbs may be the antidote; however, few readers can stomach an entire work of short choppy bursts. When dependent clauses are avoided, flow is sacrificed. The trick to dealing with pace is knowing when the writing can be improved by putting on the brakes—to let the reader savor the experience of reading—or speeding up the pace for drama. Inserting a four word sentence between two long ones creates an interesting contrast.

I can create separate scenes that place the reader in the middle of the actions to describe each part of an event as it happens. Or, I can write exposition, which are passages that explain events by telling the story. Sometimes, I find a brief explanation of the good-bye letter from a loved one who has left to seek fame and fortune followed by the discovery of missing money from a bank account is not going to work a exposition. Both events need to be separate scenes with all the tearful and incriminating details. At other times the plot is stretching out too much. I collapse scenes into a few paragraphs, and then the story flows better.  How do I know when to do each of these? I don’t. It is a matter worked out by trial and error.  

When I drive a car, alternating rapidly between the gas and brake jerks the car uncomfortably. However, a sudden change in the pace of writing does not have the same effect as a lead-footed driver. So, the best advice on the pace of writing is to not keep it the same.

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Star Words

Posted on September 8, 2022 by knlistman

Creating a good plot is one of the most difficult parts of writing. A perfectly plotted story is going to be snatched up by readers, but so far we seem to have only produced one of these plots that most fiction writing instructors can agree on, which is the one from the original Star Wars movie. But even writing instructors can get this wrong. I heard an instructor claim that if a person was having a hard time writing a synopsis for their book, they should examine his synopsis of Star Wars. If it wasn’t that simple to write, their problem was not the synopsis, but the plot of their book. 

That was a bold claim to make, and later I realized it was patently wrong. On close examination the problem is with the plot of Star Wars. Luke’s motivation was to save a beautiful girl who sent him a message for help. He also wanted to take revenge on the man who killed his father. But, the man Luke intended to destroy was his father. The beautiful girl, which he loved at first sight, was his sister. That sort of made romance out of the question. The Jedi master, a wise old advisor, knew all of this and said nothing about it. Why?  This first movie was basically a novelette. It was not a real full-length novel that could include such a complicated subplot. After the exciting but lengthy battle scene in space to destroy the death star, the villain had to escape so the sequel could be made.

I realized the flaw in this logic during this writing teacher’s instruction on how to write a synopsis. I wanted to ask a question about it. He wanted questions, because he said he’d get back to me, but he never did. Now, when any author advises me to consider this Star Wars movie when creating a plot for a novel I would say, think again. It actually took three movies to create a plot the length of a short fantasy novel. By the third one we saw Luke again helping get the princess out of trouble along with her new love interest (Han Solo, the trickster archetype). Then, they joined the forces with the cutest furry warriors that I’ve ever seen to bring down a second “death star.” Viewers noticed the repetition. Sometimes when asked about the third film, I heard, “It’s sort of the repeat of the first with Teddy bears.”  

My take away–a  synopsis is still going to be excruciating to write for an 80,000 to 100,000 word novel, provided it does not start dragging in the middle so that part can be eliminated from the synopsis. It is easier to write one for a novella, just as novellas can be easier to crank out using a set formula than novels are. Of course, it is possible to create the synopsis of the first three Star War movies in 750 words, but it won’t sound as good. The repetition of actions will seem obvious when read in one synopsis together. 

Then, I discovered the existence of a novelization of the Star Wars movie that was the size of an average book. It had additional scenes and world building information with the new technology explained. I thought I would enjoy listening to the audio recording of this. However, all the inserted scenes and description made it slow compared to the movie. So, I never finished listening to it.

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The “Art” of Writing

Posted on September 1, 2022 by knlistman

A “one shot” print occurs when an artist creates a plate for an intaglio print by engraving or etching, and then pulls a trial print so good that it requires no alteration to improve it before making the final prints. When I was in college printmaking classes, no one ever managed to do this feat. People kept re-etching parts of plates to make the prints better. Of course, this did not destroy the essence of the print.

Writing is very similar. It is the rare case when an author composes a poem or piece of prose in one sitting that requires no changes. The longer the work, the more revision is necessary. It takes extended concentration and effort to produce quality writing for any period of time. Novels are a huge effort. When working on visual art projects, the artist periodically pulls back to view the work and get an honest view of how good (or bad) it is. The equivalent action is reviewing and revising what has already been written, an action that does not destroy the essence of the story.

There are differences between creating a piece of art and writing a book. An intaglio plate can be over-etched, or a drawing overworked. There is no salvaging it. The artist can only start over again with a new printing plate or piece of paper. No novel is a complete disaster. There may be large sections that have to be cut or rewritten and improved. But at least part of it is salvageable, even if there is not enough to make a complete work until more is added.

When I taught art, I would attempt to keep students from making mistakes and filling the trash can with ruined assignments. This required outlining steps to complete assignments. Typically they were assigned to use a medium with three or four criteria to fulfill for a specific piece. The limitations that I put on their work actually took stress off of the students. If they met the criteria, they would receive a passing grade. Gradually their work became more creative because they felt the liberty to innovate and not just imitate the work of someone who had made a good grade before.

However, there was a student who produced this stunning piece of art that did not completely fill one of the four criteria. Breaking my limitations actually made the work better. He was already the best artist in the class and knew how to compose his art and create effects that others did not. I could give him a high grade, but not a perfect one, and explained to him why. I also told him it was an excellent piece that should go into his portfolio.

Putting limits on my writing goals lets me work within a framework. I don’t feel the pressure of perfection. Each step to a goal is one toward getting something accomplished with my current work in progress. I do not use a word count to measure my progress. Rather I gauge it by the amount of content I have created. Sometimes, after working within limitations I find that I must toss them aside to create something better—a piece of literature that breaks the mold.

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The Fable of the Hook

Posted on August 25, 2022 by knlistman

Readers seeking excitement prefer a story starting with the main character fleeing down a dark alley, reeling from an initial enemy strike, or near the edge of Niagara Falls. This immediate danger creates an adrenaline rush. Even if the reader knows nothing about the character, they will have time to get to know the protagonist later. If they are not stopped cold by one of the many pitfalls of a dramatic beginning.

The exciting beginning is a promise of continuing drama. If the situation turns out to be a false alarm such as a dream, or a computer simulated war exercise or a simply-solved hoax, the readers will feel cheated. I know I do. Generally, I never read a book by that author again unless there is an excellent reason for that deception on which the rest of the story depends. 

If the danger is real and recedes too quickly  I will wonder what kind of too perfect protagonist I have just encountered. On the other hand, if solving the problem is put off by shifting back to a prior time to introduce the character, I am tempted to skip the intervening backstory. I will skim ahead until I find how this character is going to escape such a deadly dilemma. If it is more than a few chapters later, I must truly be invested in the character to not give up and stop reading. But, often my patience is running thin from an overflow of backstory.

If readers want mystery, a dead body in the first page should keep their attention. Won’t they continue until the end to find out who did it? Not necessarily. I recall reading a few mysteries in which one death kept the investigation going. The suspects were introduced, and clues unfolded so that the thrill continued at a reasonable pace. However, I’ve heard mystery writers say that when the pace starts dragging in the middle it is time to drop another body. Whenever I find a clumsy mystery in which the author waits until the end to reveal the entire story, I just skip to the ending. If the investigators require a number of bodies before they figure out what I already know, there is no need to skip to the ending, or to continue reading.

Often having a likable or sympathetic character should hook the reader. But sad tales to get me to take the side of the protagonist leave me feeling as if I missed something when problems dissipate into thin air. Sometimes the solution is so easy because the character had a secret ability that the author simply wasn’t letting me know.

I may stay longer in a novel that does exactly what authors are told not to do. Describe the weather, the scenery, or the city around the main character. In those cases I am still hoping to have some action happen. But, I am willing to go through some nicely written world building, even if I am not reading a science fiction or fantasy story. I don’t even mind a brief history of the past before the main characters appear on the scene. But, the main character is still under pressure to be involved in a conflict that draws me in. I expect the drama to continue to build up from that point.

How do surefire hooks backfire? The scene that instantly grabs the reader only works if the book continues to engage the reader. The beginning should lead into events in the book and not be a detached incident that is only there to grab the reader’s attention. The existence of a hook so strong that it will compel the reader to finish the book is nothing more than a fable.

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The Teenage Genre

Posted on August 18, 2022 by knlistman

When a library placed a book in the young adult or YA category that used to mean two things: The book was within the reading level of 12 to 18 year-olds, often a sixth to eighth grade level, and the content would contain nothing objectionable for a 12 year-old reader.

I recall picking out Cry the Beloved Country from the YA section. This book sprang from the authors personal experience with the attitudes that would lead to apartheid in South Africa. Most of the language was around 8th grade level. There was a court scene with some legalese and it did contain a few Zulu words for titles and terms of respect. The major challenge was that there were no dialogue tags. So the reader had to keep track of who was speaking by the way characters addressed each other.

The story revolved around an old man’s alienation from two family members drawn to Johannesburg. He had to face the pain of discovering his son had murdered a good man, the son of his neighbor in the country. The villain was not an individual but the city that drew the Africans to corrupt lives. The content was appropriate as far as lack of violence for a 12-year-old. Therefore, Cry the Beloved Country was in the YA section of the library. The concepts in this book still may have been too difficult for some 12-year-olds to comprehend. A few of the students in the AP English literature course, assigned to read it in high school, struggled to understand a world so unlike their own.

Publishers have been trying to change this definition of a YA novel and some authors are willing to follow their lead. Not only do the majority of the characters have to be the age of the intended reader, but they also have to be the ones solving the problem. That may be one of the reasons that fantasy is taking over as the most prevalent subgenre in YA. The plots present problems that are unrealistic for inexperienced young adults to solve unless they have magic on their side. These books are supposed to be aimed at their age group, and one that an adult may wish to read. The vast majority of these novels are written at the 6th grade level, have a happy ending, and avoid philosophical musings, even though they are allowed to show more graphic violence and sex than in the past.

Recently, I tried to help a friend find current comps for her coming of age story for this age group. There seemed to be a smaller percentage of these being produced in the last decade, and even less in the last five years. Are all teenagers looking for books in which problems are completely solved and whisked away with a dramatic wave of the wand? Is growing into maturity and taking responsibility in a world that is not a fairy tale no longer no longer an acceptable plot? I recall a little over five years ago, when I was still in a high school classroom that I overheard students discussing a story they found intriguing—a tragedy written by Franz Kafka over 100 years ago. Some adolescent readers who want something different and challenging are digging up old classics again.

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Who’s the Real Villain?

Posted on August 11, 2022 by knlistman

As a legend Robin Hood represents the kind of principled nonconformist on which many heroes are based. We love to read about people who confront government wrong-doing even in a criminal manner as he did. But, if a similar character existed in real life, he would not be any more popular than a government agency attempting to redistribute our wealth. The majority of people would probably condemn him.

Rumpelstiltskin is an excellent fairytale that could be rewritten from the opposite viewpoint. Many characters on the poor peasant girl’s side seem as bad as the deformed old man who knows how to spin gold. The braggart father and the irrationally demanding king are the real villains who need to be defeated by the end of the story. But, they live happily ever after.

How do you parry the strength of the protagonist against the antagonist in a plot? Common wisdom says that the strength of the hero and villain need to be similar in order for the conflict to engage the readers. Therefore, authors create increasingly strong and vicious villains with the idea of making the protagonist look larger than life.

We only have to look at the very popular superhero comics and movies to see this occurring. A clean cut honest good guy hero like Superman comes from a wholesome family background and normally chases villains who are mildly destructive, maybe they want to spend their money to buy themselves power, but they are not trying to destroy humanity. Lex Luthor is nowhere as depraved as the Joker. But, the hero that must defeat the Joker is Batman, a vigilante with a vendetta and not necessarily a law abiding citizen.

Speaking of vendettas consider “V” the strange protagonist who conceals himself behind a Guy Fawkes mask. He is one of the most questionable anti-heroes. He does have the challenge of bringing down leaders of a corrupt society, but he has similar terroristic qualities to the person behind whose mask that he hides. “V” goes so far as to temporarily imprison the heroine. She must have a taste of the struggles that formed him to ensure she won’t turn him in to the corrupt authorities.

Compare “V” to the antagonist of Les Miserables. The police inspector is not a corrupt person. However, he believes he is chasing a criminal, perhaps a vicious one. When the villain realizes his error he destroys himself. The hero of the story, Jean Valjean, never raises a hand against him.

My conclusion? Be careful with creating a great evil to make your hero shine. Heroes are similar in strengths to villains and one of these is morality. So a hero chasing a very depraved villain is more likely to cut corners and break laws in order to catch that bad guy. The ideas that mold a more evil antagonist will often result in a hero bending our ideas of what is right. The hero will shine dimly as morally gray, or not shine at all.

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