Hero vs Everyman

Let’s say you have a character, Jane, who is having some problems in her marriage. You might have Jane sitting at a cafe, sipping her latte and ruminating over her divorce. At the next table, she overhears a bickering couple. What happens next?

Jane’s reaction to the bickering couple will depend on where her character stands on the Hero/Everyman spectrum. Orson Scott Card discusses this in his book on Characters. As readers, we want to identify with a protagonist. The protagonist has to be human enough, ordinary enough, that we can relate to him and his hurdles. At the same time, we want the protagonist to be someone whom we admire, and to whom we can aspire: someone like us but a little bit better than us. A hero.

If Jane is living in a literary novel, she’s likely to be as “ordinary” and “real” as possible, which means she probably won’t even remark on the couple’s conversation. The author will slyly allow the reader to make the connection and comparison to Jane’s situation, but Jane herself will be oblivious. It’s called subtly or something. (I know this only by rumor, never having tried it myself.)

If Jane is a tad more Hero than Everyman, she will not just overhear the bickering couple, but take action. Possibly, their conflict gives her insight into her own troubles. She’ll have an epiphany about her relationship with her late father and make a decision about the divorce. This could still leave her safely in literary territory, but it means she’ll have to be a more observant and insightful person, by nature, than our first, rather more self-obsorbed, Jane.

If Jane is a little further on the Hero side of the scale, she won’t just listen to the couple. She’ll turn to them and say something, something brilliant and insightful, that somehow helps them have an epiphany about their relationship. A true hero helps others.

And if Jane is even more of a Hero, she’ll stand up, pull a gun out of her back jeans and start shooting the disgruntled employee who just came in to shoot the couple and everyone else in the cafe. That’s right. She may or may not solve their marital disputes–or her own–but she’ll SAVE THEIR EFFIN’ LIVES.

That’s a hero’s Hero.

Traditionally, fantasy used to be the bastion of the hero’s Hero. That’s all changed, though, with the rise of postmodern and literary fantasy. (There’s also a whole plethora of anti-heroes, who avoid helping others, just on principle.) Postmodern fantasy prides itself on “realistic” characters, which is usually code for behaving like an ass. Ursula Le Guin’s new fantasy series, supposedly Young Adult (because these days even Ursula Le Guin is told to write more like Harry Potter), is not at all heroic. Her characters, though not buttheads, are Everymans to the core.

To determine where a character is on the non-heroic/heroic scale, look for hints and clues:

Mona Gray in An Invisible Sign of My Own? Not heroic.

Hint: She is so frightened of human interaction, she eats soap to avoid dates.

Katness Everdeen in Hunger Games? Heroic.

Hint: She uses a crossbow. On people.

Yeah, yeah. That wasn’t even challenging.

Both the Hero and the Everyman are hard to do well. But I’ll be honest. It’s easier to write a shoddy heroic tale and still get away with it than it is to write a shoddy Everyman tale. That’s because when an Everyman is written poorly, all you’re left with is a despicable and/or boring character. A Hero might come across as shallow, yet if he is good and brave and blows up a lot of crap, we will forgive him and go along with the story anyway.

There are three reasons for that.

One, we all think we are slightly better than we are. So we have little patience for characters as weak and fearful as ourselves, unless the author can overwhelm our reluctance with exquisite compassion of vision. Only a gifted author can trick us to empathizing with a character who is as deeply flawed as the average human being.

Two, even if, deep down, we suspect we aren’t all that heroic personally, we crave heroes. Fiction is not just an exercise of our imaginations, but of our aspirations. Studies have found that pessimistic versus optimistic fiction influences our ability to take control of our own futures. So, all you folks out tempted to write unhappy endings to your novels (you know who you are), just be aware you could cause the downfall of civilization. No pressure.

Three, the authors of successful Everyman characters CHEAT. They build up a world where going on a date and not eating soap becomes…an act of courage. So you end up rooting for the heroine to look at that bar of soap and not stick it in her mouth! And when she finds the ability to do this for herself, you know she’s overcome a greater challenge for her, than a yacht full of machine-armed bikini babes would be for James Bond. In a sense, then, you respect her even more than Bond, in this context, because what is easy is not awe-inspiring. If Bond doesn’t break a sweat, it really doesn’t matter how many bad guys he kills. It can’t compare to overcoming your own phobias.

An everyman is who we usually are; an hero is who we aspire to be. Write either one. Just watch out for these pitfalls:

If you are writing a character closer to the Everyman side, remember to build up the everyday obstacles to your character’s existence until overcoming them becomes a heroic act. Just don’t write an everyman and expect people to aspire to it.

If you are writing a character closwer to the hero’s Hero, just remember, even Superman needs his kryptonite. If everything is easy for your Hero, he’s not brave anymore, no matter what he does. This is why every Superhero needs a Supervillain Nemesis,

And remember. Heroes are real.

WiP Wednesday and Call for Beta Readers for Wing

Wing, Book 5 of the Unfinished Song, is finished. I’ll be announcing the release date next week.

The manuscript is with the editor and the alpha readers. It’s about 90,000 words.

If anyone would like to be a Beta reader to proofread and help us hunt down typos, email me and let me know. Ideally, you’d receive a copy sometime be able to read it and get it back to me within a week.  I might not be able to take everyone who asks, but it’s worth a try if you are interested. I already have a few people on the list.

I can’t post too long an excerpt from Blood, The Unfinished Song, Book 6, without giving away spoilers for both Wing and Blood, but here’s a scene from the Prologue in which we see Vessia back in the days when she was War Leader of the Aelfae. For the first time, we meet some Aelfae and see things from their point of view during the last stages of the generations-long War with humans.

Remember, there is still time to sign up for the Newsletter to receive a free copy of Wing.

Some people have worried they aren’t the first hundred to sign up, and they aren’t. But I’ve extended the number of copies I’ll be giving away, due to popular demand (how awesome is that — I’ve always wanted to say that!) so go ahead and sign up, no worries!

Vessia (Generations Ago – During the War)

How To Raise The Stakes In Your Novel

In an earlier post, I mentioned that to improve a scene or entire novel, one question to ask is, Can I raise the stakes?

Maybe the answer is Yes.

Great! How?

The principle is simple–any activity that differentiates a living being from a rock raises the stakes.

Yes, yes, rocks don’t have midlife crisis about whether their spouse is leaving them or whether their Art is Truly Great, but that’s not what I’m talking about. High stakes have to touch a basic need of living things.

Put yourself in the shoes of your main character and imagine one of these needs is at risk:

1. Your life.

The most obvious thing to put at risk is the character’s life. Escape a predator, a hired killer, a band of orcs. Don’t crash the plane, survive on the island, be the winner in the televised fight to the death against other human contestants.

2. The life of someone you love.

Humans are social so there may be goals even more important than our own lives. The lives of our loved ones obviously top that list.

3. The life of an innocent.

It’s sad but we don’t react to saving strangers with the same urgency as saving our own kin and comrades. Doctors and firefighters and police and soldiers fight to save strangers all the time–but in stories, the person they are trying to save is usually closer. Hence the cliche, “This time it’s personal.”

However, the battle to save a stranger can be just as poignant if the stranger is an obvious innocent: a child, an animal, a young person or someone who is a symbol for a larger ideal. A princess or a president or  a pope or ambassador represents not just themselves but a whole nation or group.

4. The life of a threat.

There’s an inverse version of the above three motives, and that is the need to kill someone who is an explicit or implicit threat. The tyrant or serial killer or evil alien general or monster has to be stopped or destroyed or assassinated before… the implication must always be before he gets you or someone you love or someone innocent first. 

5. Your love.
The other single most important thing every living thing must do besides survive is reproduce. That’s why winning the love of someone is so important. If you have story about a really, really dry and esoteric topic, you can always raise the stakes by adding a romance. This is true whether your intended readership is male or female. If you don’t want your book to be all about the romance, that’s fine, but include winning, losing, proving or keeping a love as a goal to keep the stakes high.

All other goals, such as money, power, prestige, respect, honor, even truth or freedom are valuable because without them, one of the five items above are put at risk. This is not just true in stories. It’s true in real life.

I’ve included the funny poster comparing Twilight and Hunger Games. Of course, even if it were true, finding love is just as high a stake, sometimes higher, as your life, so there’s nothing wrong with a story that is “only” a romance.

But notice that in the case of Twilight, the poster is not even correct. Without the love triangle, Twilight is about a woman who must decide whether to be immortal herself or to have a child. That’s why the series is a quartet rather than a trilogy. It doesn’t end with her marriage, as a pure romance would. It’s as much about Risk #1 and Risk #2 as about Risk # 5.

Is Harper Voyager’s Deal Worth Taking?

I think we’ll be seeing a lot more of this:

Harper Voyager has launched an international talent search, with aspiring writers invited to submit their un-agented manuscripts directly to the publisher. The HarperCollins sci-fi and fantasy imprint will be opening a two week window in October where writers can submit their novels, with plans to publish selected titles digitally.

Writers are wondering if this is a good deal. Obviously before the digital revolution and the possibility of cutting out an extra layer of middlemen, this would have been a great opportunity. But is it now?
I have a couple of thoughts:

1. The only possible reason to go with a traditional publisher at this point would be to get your books into a bookstore, hopefully in hardcover. So why on earth would you sell ebook rights only?

2. There’s no such thing as “free” editing, cover, proofreading and promotion. You are paying for these services by forking over a huge percentage of your royalties for the rest of the life of the book. This is not a good deal.

If an author wants professional editing, hire a professional. Pretty simple. Keep your rights, and keep a decent percent of the royalties. Do not let yourself be exploited by “traditional” publishers who are behaving no better than vanity presses of yore.

3. The digital revolution is only going in one direction. More people tomorrow are going to have ereaders. Now, eventually, big companies may make it impossible for indies to operate profitably. That tends to happen. But that moment isn’t here yet–so why sell your soul to the megacorps before you have to? And furthermore, the big companies of the future are unlikely to be the same ones operating now, so prematurely selling your soul could really go sour for you.

Ask yourself why publishers are becoming more and more desperate to lure in authors. These are the same publishers who are used to beating writers back with umbrellas. What has changed?

Obviously, what has changed is that authors don’t need them.

It is now up to publishers to prove that they can add value to what the writer and distributer already bring to the table.

In other words, in my opinion…This is a superbly bad deal for authors.

Seven Questions To Ask To Improve a Scene (or an Entire Novel)

Or you could just add Taylor Kinney.

There are seven questions you can ask your about your book before you begin to write it, which will make it a stronger book. Those questions work best if you ask them before you actually sit down to write.

Now, if you’re like me, and sitting in front of a computer with a finished or progressing manuscript, these questions might frustrate you–it’s a little too late to change the stakes of your entire novel.

It’s not too late to help strengthen the novel scene by scene, however. As you know, I’m a strong proponent of the idea that strong scenes make a stronger book. I’ve blogged on this before. (I label each draft of my novel with a letter of the alphabet, and I usually get to those squiggly ones near the end. This is undoubtedly excessive. But as you can see, I obsess over making my scenes awesome.) So look at each scene individually and ask yourself these seven questions:

1. How can I raise the stakes?

There are basically two kinds of scenes: critical scenes, which Holly Lisle calls “candybar” scenes, and I call “juicy” scenes, which both the author and the readers (hopefully) love, love, love. These are the scenes which would be shown in the teaser clips for next week’s episode if your book were a tv show. When the heroine tells a lie to the hero and the villain, or when the lie is revealed. When a confrontation, a revelation or a declaration of love occurs. These the linchpins of the novel.

The other kind of scene are the ligaments of the novel. In epic fantasy, these are often the “traveling scenes.” Between the time the heroine lies to the villain and the time she is caught, maybe they travel together. (Um, in fact, this is EXACTLY what happens in Wing.) This scene needs to be there. And it needs to be a scene, not a one-liner about “three weeks of hard travel.” You need some on-stage story space between the action and the consequence, or the story arc won’t flow right. So this is not a scene you can just skip… but you don’t want it to be boring, dragging down the rest of the book with its oozing Blah.

The solution is to raise the stakes. Not TOO high–you don’t want to overshadow the later show-down when the villain finds out the lie–but something more exciting than plodding alone. The stakes could be physical, emotional, moral or what have you. But make the outcome matter.

2. How can I deepen the emotion?

In a way, this point and ever other on the list follow from the first, Raise the Stakes. Deepening the emotion in the scene also raises the stakes.
Look at the characters in your scene, especially the two main characters as ask what is each one feeling? What is the main feeling–and what is the undercurrent? Two characters who are antagonists, each trying to achieve a mutually exclusive objective, might be hostile to one another at one level, yet admiring on another level.
And, of course, never underestimate the possibilities for romantic tension.
Emotion becomes deeper in the scene if you keep in mind that the characters are feeling something, feeling more than one contradictory emotion, may be lying to themselves or the other characters about what it is, and is probably misunderstood by the other character.

3. How can I force a choice?

Gandalf and the hobbits are trudging along–pretty dull, right?
No, because there’s a snow storm which could kill them all. (Raise the Stakes) And that means that they now have to make a choice.

And Gandalf is going to make Frodo do it. He’s the Ringbearer after all. No pressure, Frodo. It’s not like this moment, when you decided to take the path that would GET GANDALF KILLED is going to haunt you for the rest of your life or anything.

See how that works? Force your character to make a choice. Just remember, the choice has to have real consequences latter on in the novel.

4. How can a character pass a test, fail a test, or prove a point?

Often one of the reasons that you can’t just skip from one candybar scene to the next is that your hero has some growing and changing to do first. Neo has to learn Kung Fu. Even though he just downloads it, we still get to see that happen and drool jealously. And think, never mind kung fu, that tech would have saved my butt during high school geometry. “I know proofs!”
Ahem. Moving on.

Double up your scenes so that your hero is impressing some people–maybe winning over the heroine who was contemptuous of him at first–but antagonizing others, like the heroine’s present boyfriend. Or the opposite happens — he cheats on a test to pass, and can advance to the next level of the competition, but he knows that he’s not ready. He’s actually more of a fake than ever.

As always, this has to fit the novel’s overall story arc. Don’t insert random episodes to make it exciting if they are irrelevant. Just look for the natural tests, choices and proving grounds your hero would logically pass through on the way to the final climax of the story.

5. How can I delay gratification?

You may think that simply sprinkling in more sex and violence will add excitement to any story. It won’t. But adding the anticipation of sex and violence will. (And here you thought I was going to be above gratuitous sex and violence? Nah!) Anticipation is more addictive than consummation. You can get to the smooching and punching and monster attacks in due time, but don’t skip the foreplay! So wherever possible:
Replace or precede consummation with seduction.
Replace or precede wrongdoing with temptation.
Replace or precede horror with suspense.
Replace or precede shock with mystery.

6. How can I draw out a theme?

I discussed this quite a bit in my last post. Quiet scenes are often good places to toss in a symbol or sentence that will reinforce your theme. One of the most important scenes in Never Let Me go is a simple scene where the character is hugging a pillow. The author connects that one scene, that one action, to the romance, to the mystery of the children, and ultimately, to the deepest theme of the book itself

These don’t have to be quiet scenes either

In Book 6 of The Unfinished Song, my character, a hunter named Finnadro, asks himself the same question over and over: what makes a man a monster? In several successive scenes, as he uncovers new evidence and also grows more desperate, he keeps reaching different conclusions–but the real question is if he will find out what he really needs to know before the deadline.

7. How can I replace a cliché with a twist? Or deepen a cliché with an archetype?

Eliminate cliches. There are two easy ways and one hard way. The hard way is to be utterly and brilliantly original. Good luck with that. If you pull it off, I’ll hate and admire you (see Point 2).
The two easy ways are to set up a cliche and then twist it in an unexpected way. You’re playing off the reader’s expectations things will end one way, but they don’t.

The second way is to deepen the cliche into an archetype. And the way to do this, ironically, is to add more individuating and unique details to your version of this trope or character. So you want the wise old teacher who teaches the hero. Make him a small, green thief with a silly laugh who steals your lunch. (I bet you forgot that when Yoda was first introduced, he was the very last person Luke expected to be a Jedi Master.)

With either of these, be careful. Now we all take Yoda for granted, and he no longer surprises us. If you’re trying to twist a cliche, make sure you haven’t just twisted it into a new, even more tiresome cliche. If you are presenting an archetypal character, really make it your own and make sure it fits deeply into the worldbuilding of your story.

Finally, here’s one more free tip: 

When in doubt, get one or more character into less clothes. It makes scarier scenes scarier, and sexy scenes sexier and it increases the chances your book will be optioned by Hollywood.  😉

(And here you thought I was kidding about Taylor Kinney!)

Three Tips On How To Show Theme in Your Novel

I discuss my series The Unfinished Song, though I have tried to avoid details or reveals, I do discuss themes, characters and events in the books which might be spoilers. If you haven’t read it yet, you can start the series here for free: The Unfinished Song: Initiate (kindle or kindle app). Or, if you want a different format, email me here: tara@taramayastales.com.

Every story which is true and beautiful and worthwhile coalesces around a solid core. It’s like the compact iron ball at the core of the earth. All the other geological layers of story rest on top of it. Without a solid core, the story is hollow, 2-dimensional, and readers can sense that. The story will be boring and forgettable.

What constitutes that core may be differ from author to author, and story to story. For me, I have found that the best core is theme. I  know the theme of my story before I even begin it. Other writers may have a different style; they let the theme emerge organically from the writing and surprise them after the fact. Probably those writers have more natural talent than I do. I have to sweat for my themes.

In The Unfinished Song, I have nested themes. There is the theme for the overall series, which is about what price we are willing to pay for creativity (in all its forms). Each trilogy has a theme, and then each book has a theme.

I was discussing this with another writer the other day, and she asked, “But you write fantasy, not great fiction, so how could your books have themes?”

Setting aside the unintended dig at an entire genre–as one must if one is a genre writer, since it happens all the time–yes, fantasy books certainly have themes. Lord of the Rings? Could you get more themalicious?

But what is a theme? Too often, it’s something vague, like “Love conquers all” or “War is hell.” Trying to stick flavorless mumble-mumble like that in the center of your story, and it slips away, like a goldfish flopping out of your palm.

So I have some tricks.

TIP #1 – USE THE CONCRETE TO ILLUSTRATE THE ABSTRACT

I like to hook my theme on a metaphor. It might be a private metaphor that I use to guide my writing without putting it (directly) in the story, or it might be a living metaphor that appears as a character, scene or object in the book. Usually, I do both.

For instance, in the second trilogy of The Unfinished Song (Root, Wing and Blood), I have a character called Mayara. She is an Aelfae whose family, whose entire clan, was slaughtered by humans. Her own mother tore off her wings and buried them to disguise her as a human. The trick works; a human family finds her and, mistaking her for a human child, takes her in. Mayara is safe for the moment, but her goal is to dig up her wings and fly away as soon as she can.

On one level, Mayara’s story is of safety (roots) vying with freedom (wings), the importance of being true to yourself vs. the living by the rules of others. (Her adopted mother constantly tells her, “Don’t, don’t, don’t,” and this, too, contrasts with the freedom she longs for.) The situation is complicated when a human man falls in love with Mayara. He tells her that his love is like a tree, with deep roots. And her own past is buried, her wings are subterranean, as roots of a tree are, so in flying away is she trying to be free of her past or to connect with her lost kin?

When I was a child, we used to sing a song in my fellowship, which inspired the images I chose for this part of the story:

Spirit of Life,
Come unto me,
Sing in my heart all the stirrings of compassion,
Roots hold me close,
Wings set me free,
Spirit of Life,
Come to me, come to me.

This is the delightful thing of grounding themes in some gritty metaphor, a simple but strong image like buried wings. The mind loves these semi-conscious metaphors and wrestles with them, under the surface of the story. I have numerous characters, and they each have their subplots, but underlying metaphors link them together, sometimes in ways that are obvious and sometimes in ways that are meant to be ironic. For instance, although the image of flight is associated with freedom and independence in Mayara’s story, in the main storyline, the enemy are Raptor Riders who ride enslaved avian shapeshifters. The link between freedom and flight is reversed. It is the great circle of living trees who protect the freedom of the Green Woods tribesfolk against their avian enemies, and when the trees are uprooted, it is a terrible loss.

TIP # 2 – USE REPETITION 

One time is an incident. Twice is an accident. Three times is a pattern.

Your book will have many descriptions, physical objects, song lyrics, colors, tastes and scenes. The reader won’t necessarily assume any of these have special importance unless you repeat an image in a new context.

The Hunger Games Trilogy makes use of several recurring images. One is the image of Katniss as the Girl On Fire. The other is the Mockingjay. She doesn’t bury these symbols or try to hide them. The characters themselves are well aware of the symbols. Each of the characters consciously tries to manipulate the symbols for their own purposes.

For instance, Katniss’ designers choose to dress her as the Girl On Fire to re-enforce one of the traditions of the Games, which is to show the contestants from District 12 as having something to do with coal. There’s nothing subversive in this–at first. Just an innocent attempt to be showy, which is in keeping with the exploitive and sensationalized nature of the Games.

However, with ever repetition of the Girl On Fire symbol, the interpretation of it changes.The tyrannical President Snow fears the symbols will rouse the people to rebellion. The rebels are counting on it.

The Mockingjay symbol evolves throughout the trilogy in the same way.

TIP # 3 – BALANCE YIN AND YANG

Have you ever read one of those Astrology Birthsigns descriptions of yourself that tell you, “You enjoy a good time with your friends, but sometimes you just like to be on your own.” And you think: “Wow, it’s like the astrologer knows me!” Of course, all that’s happened is that the description has stated two opposite possibilities–and it usually fits, because most of us are not always one way or another.

Now, you don’t want your novel to be as bland as a three line Daily Astrology reading for Gemini, but you can learn something important from this technique. Every yin has a little yang. Your theme will come across as deeper, more realistic and less preachy if you also consider the opposite.

Ask yourself, first of all what would constitute the opposite of your theme? If your theme is “loyalty to your friends is important” you might think that “betrayal is the way to get ahead” is the opposite. You might have a villain who believes in backstabbing his way to the top and a hero who is loyal to his friends.

But that’s a bit shallow. It’s more interesting to pit one great theme against another: “Loyalty to your friends is important” against, “sometimes you have to think for yourself.” How do you balance those?

I’m entering the “middle muddle” of my twelve book series. This is a dangerous point for a long story-arc. It would be easy to “lose the plot.” When I do find myself floundering, I return to the core: What are the important questions I want this story to ask? Not answer, so much; I don’t know the answers. But ask. Every scene in the book, every one, relates to the overarching theme for the series, which is how can we live a creative life that is also a responsible life? How can we sacrifice ourselves for others yet be true to ourselves? This is the problem that Dindi faces, and it is also, in different way, the problem that Kavio faces, and the tragedy is that they have found different answers to a question to which there is no one right answer.