The unlikeable character

It's always hard having an unlikeable character as your protagonist. After all, you want your readers to keep reading, right? So if your character is unlikeable, you've got a harder task to keep your readers interested -- if they don't like the character, why should they care what happens to him or her? And if they don't care, what's going to compel them to read on?

There is more than one way to get around this. You can write brilliantly so that there's other things going on with the musicality of your prose, its sheer poetry, to keep readers interested (which won't work on all readers). You can make sure your character is at least well rounded (as all protagonists should be) and that there are enough good characteristics to keep readers on-side. You can start with the good and gradually reveal the bad. Or you can trick your reader and suddenly reveal some abhorrent characteristic that totally puts the reader off.

Okay, I don't really recommend the last, but I've just had that experience as a reader, so clearly not all writers agree with me. Two thirds of the way into a book I've been reading, and the main character has done something that has left me so cold I'm not sure I want to continue. I liked this character. I empathised with him completely, but any empathy vanished with that one cruel act. It's something that was foreshadowed, so I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was led to a point where it seemed unavoidable and I was spared, so I relaxed and, then, when I wasn't expecting it: bang.

It's unusual for me to have such a strong reaction. But then this particular action was always going to be difficult for me to get over. Leaving it so late -- well, I feel manipulated. Two-thirds of the way in, I don't really want to abandon a story I was enjoying, but now I don't want to stay with this character at all. I suppose I will finish it -- my son asked me to read it because he wants to discuss it with me (and, no, it's not one of his school texts). He says it's one of his favourite books, and I mull over what's just happened and think, how can it be? But we're all different readers -- we all want something different, something we writers have to bear in mind.

The scope of your novel and POV

The other day, my friend Ellen blogged about POV in the first chapter of her novel, and her horror when someone suggested she was writing in [third-person] omniscient when she thought she was writing in "intense third person" (or what I would call third-person intimate, or subjective or limited). And I've added the bit in the square brackets because there actually is also a first-person omniscient, but it's extremely rare as you would imagine.

I've read Ellen's opening chapters, and there's no way I would call them omniscient. For a start she has one person per scene, and she doesn't slip into anyone else's viewpoint, and writes firmly from inside her characters' heads.

K's justification of why Ellen's novel started in omniscient was to do with the characters thinking about their past in order to deliver backstory. K said that we don't often sit around thinking about our pasts in a coherent fashion, and she does have a point. But does that make the POV omniscient? I don't think so.

In an omniscient viewpoint, anything goes. The writer can move from head to head at will -- of course this should always be done for a reason, or the reader can end up dizzied or confused. But the reader *does* move heads throughout a scene. The author can jump in and give an insight that none of the characters know, for example: What none of the characters knew was that everything was about to change... 

Or the writer can jump forward into the future and point out something that would happen at a later date. The author can address the reader: Dear reader... This is called "authorial intrusion" and is a perfectly legitimate (if dated) device in an omniscient viewpoint, and one that I cannot stand! When I'm reading, I become the main character; I am in the story; I am experiencing it: all those terrible things happening to the main character -- well, they're happening to me. Authorial intrusion reminds me that I am not the main character, and in fact that I am the reader, and I'd better damn well stay on that side of the page! It completely interferes with my enjoyment of the story.

The other thing to say about all of this is that the way we represent thoughts on the page is not really how thoughts are in our head. I know sometimes mine are an almost incoherent jumble, as my thought-trains switch tracks, derail, get overtaken and stall. Thoughts on the page are a representation of what the character is thinking, and while K's representation may be closer to the truth, it's still a representation of how we think thoughts are -- just in the same way that dialogue is not the same as how we really speak -- it's more like how we think we speak.

Ellen saw what she'd done as a judgement error rather than POV error. I agree that it isn't a POV error. A POV error is when you slip into someone else's head when you shouldn't. Or when you move outside the perspective that you're writing in -- so if you are writing in an intimate viewpoint, where you are inside your character's head (as in third-person intimate, or first person), you can't say that your point-of-view character had a beatific smile on his face, because he can't see his own face. You could of course say that if he were looking in the mirror, but that's cheating. You can say he smiled. Or that he felt beatific -- even better, you can show it.

Ellen is writing a story with a big scope. She has parallel plots, so is tracking the journey of two main characters. If she were to use the type of very close POV that K favours, where thoughts are detailed and go on for paras, instead of a 120 k novel, she might end up with an extremely intimate account that spreads over 250 k and that is imminently unpublishable just because of its length. (Yes, publishers do occasionally publish books of this length, but rarely rarely rarely first time authors just because it's prohibitively expensive and the risk on a new author isn't worth it.)

The scope of our novels do, to a certain extent, dictate just how close our POV can be, as does whether a story is plot or character driven. If you're writing a literary short story where not much happens, you can afford to have pages and pages of thoughts -- in fact, stream of consciousness stories are exactly this. I can't say I particularly enjoy these, but it's horses for courses. Some people love them.

In the end, the labels we give things like POV don't really matter, but they are a way for us to check that what we does works, a way for us to understand why doing this particular thing (showing the beatific smile) doesn't work, and why we should change it.

Movies: Australia

Australia is an epic, and I'm very fond of epics, and been a great Nicole Kidman fan ever since seeing her in "Bangkok Hilton" many years ago, but I'd heard mixed reviews of this movie, so I went along with some trepidation.

In the first few minutes of the film, I was struck by the over-the-top, slightly overacted, almost cartoonish feel, but then I remembered this is a Baz film, and settled right into it. After all, look at Moulin Rouge, a great favourite of mine. Australia is over the top in much the same way, but just as much fun too. (At several points in the film, my kids and I were almost rolling around in our seats with laughter -- all of it genuine.)

Usually, when watching a movie, I will be "in the film" -- I become one of the characters, just as I do when reading a book. I am immersed, swept up, part of it. Baz's films, because I'm noticing the cinematography or direction or acting or whatever, distance me a little from this experience but give me another kind of experience. It's not a greater or lesser experience, just a different one. It's set up from the beginning so isn't an issue. And it's great to see a director with balls enough to have his own vision, to do something different, something away from what everyone else is attempting.

The parallel when I'm reading is the second-person addresses (as authorial interruption). I don't mind these if they're part of the experience. What I can't abide is when I'm in the middle of a story and suddenly the writer addresses me and rips me out of my immersion. If I'm aware from the beginning I won't be immersed in the same way, so it doesn't happen. I'm not reminded that I'm reading because I'm already aware, in a way that I'm not in a "straight" novel. Maybe it's to do with the way I read (conceptually rather than visually) -- I'm not sure.

I do have to say that past the first few minutes, I stopped noticing the style of the movie and just got swept right up in the story.

Australia is part iconic old droving movies like The overlanders, part love story a la Titanic and a ripping good yarn. I can see why Oprah told Nicole and Hugh that it was the movie we need to see. I didn't notice the length at all. And in the dark moments when I think of my book and despair at how the structure isn't a classic beginning, middle and end but rather seems to embody several stories, I can take heart that it does so in much the same way that Australia does. In my novel it's a military coup -- and that could be a novel in itself -- and the parallel to that in this movie is the droving story. But that's not where the film ends -- it then takes up life on the station and the bombing of Darwin; in my novel it's the quest story. It's amazing what movies can teach us -- even if only to sit back and chill out!

So would I recommend Australia: you bet. Especially if you like cows and horses, the gorgeous Hugh and Nicole and landscape, action, adventure and romance.

Second person

I'm just musing today about a comment a friend made on an email about second-person, and how hard it is to write. I've written one story in second person that's been published. (I'm trying to think if I've done any more -- I have a vague feeling that I have, but I can't remember. That's a worry! lol) I didn't find that story at all hard to write. Admittedly, it is more experimental than most of my work. Usually, I write stuff that (I think) is strongly plotted, but every now and then I like to have a play around with something that isn't, or that is different in some way.

I think readers either love or hate second person. Not many are ambivalent about it. I love it. When I'm reading in second person, I am the "you" in the story. It doesn't matter if it's a male character who's an alcoholic, has bunions, six girlfriends and onion breath. I am that person. Because I am the main character, I find this the closest point of view of all, but I've heard many say it's distant. My theory is that those who hate it or who find it distant (and I suspect they're the same people) aren't able to make that transition.

Conversely, what I hate is the occasional use of second person -- when someone is writing in first or third person, and every now and then they pop in an occasional "you". For example: "I was walking down the street, minding my own business, when I saw a large crane -- you know the type..." I'm left thinking, who? Me? I think it's meant to be a generic kind of thing, but because I start considering who the writer is talking to, I am ripped right out of the story. I really, really, really can't tell you how much I hate this. I hate being reminded that I am reading. I want to be in the story, to experience it, live and breathe and smell and feel it. I can't do that if the writer is constantly reminding me that I'm reading a story. Writers do this with authorial intrusions, and with that occasional use of "you". If it's set up from the beginning -- in the first para or two, then I'll swallow it, but still as something distasteful that I'd rather not sample. Maybe it's just me. I'm interested in what others think. Does it bother you? (Yes, as in you the reader!) Or don't you even notice it?

How much to explain

How much do you leave for the reader and how much do you explain? Does this depend on genre? It seems to me that "good" writing leaves room for the reader's imagination to fill in the gaps. But sometimes I've read reviews, usually of genre books, that complain that the writer didn't make everything clear. Are these lazy readers who want everything spelled out, or has the writer missed putting in some crucial piece of information that the story hangs on? I think it is often the first. Genre readers are more used to being told everything -- perhaps because of a larger reliance by writers on omniscient POV. Their readers are not as used to working for it. Literary readers have to use their imaginations a lot. Crime writers, I suspect, are good at it too, since they all seem to read looking for clues.

John Marsden doesn't describe his characters from the outside. Readers wear their skin, see the world from their POV. I never miss not having these details -- perhaps because I'm not visual. Nothing is more boring to me than a flat description of what a character looks like/is wearing. Some writers can get away with telling these type of details because they do it with such fresh, arresting details that the reader is engaged. But some... Tell me she had eyes like sapphires, and thick, wiry black hair, and I'll be stifling a yawn. A few years ago I picked up a favourite horse book from my childhood years and was astonished to find the opening sentence was something like "So and so wore fawn jodphurs, a tweed riding jacket and knee-length black leather riding boots, and her horse wore a dressage saddle and an eggbutt snaffle bit". Oh, please.

It's hard deciding how much to explain to a reader: I'm writing fantasy so do I go with a more maximalist effect or make them work. In the end, I usually try to make them work because I do believe it's better writing. More satisfying for the reader who does do the work and puts together the clues.

Omniscient POV

We had a discussion at Western Women Writers today about omniscient POV, which used to be the way everyone wrote, but is not so prevalent these days. And I know Sherryl (Books and Writing) has recently blogged about POV, but tonight it's on my mind, so I thought I'd blog about it anyway.

These days readers want a more intimate relationship with one or a few more characters, but don't want to go head-hopping all over the place. POV is something my students often struggle with, but often they're not aware that they're struggling with it. I teach second year students, so they've already learnt something about POV in first year. (Kudos to this year's class, many of whom at least knew they were having troubles with it. But classes in the past have all said they're good on POV, and then when I get the chapters in ... )

I know as a reader I prefer an intimate viewpoint, and that's how I like to write -- from the inside out. These days most of the omniscient POV writing I see is in SF, whether it be science fiction or fantasy. That's not to say that's what everyone is doing in these genres, but some people still are. When I'm reading, if I am jumping from head to head, I don't form as strong as attachment as I do if I'm right inside one character's head.

Most people get the general gist of what the differences are between intimate (or subjective or limited, which are all names for the same thing) and omniscient. They get the whole one-character-per-scene viewpoint thing, but then will present something like: She thought it was a great time to go, and the look in her eyes said it all. This kind of thing drives me mad. We've started the sentence well inside the character's head but then jumped outside. A character cannot see the look in their own eyes. Ever. (Well, unless they're looking at their reflection, but using mirrors etc to do this is a cliche that we all should try to avoid. It's a cop out.) People even do this in first person, which drives me even crazier. In real life I cannot see my smile -- I can feel it, and so can describe it in those kinds of terms, whether visceral or emotional, but I cannot see it. I feel it when one eyebrow rises, a tightness across my forehead when I'm frowning.

I did a workshop with Andrea Goldsmith when I was just beginning to take my writing seriously, and she told us all to be visceral in how we described things. And that's a great bit of advice. Not: I touched my short, crew-cut hair. But: The stubble was prickly to my fingers. Visceral writing comes from the inside of the character so is truer to POV, and invokes the senses at the same time. I love it when I get double mileage out of something!

One of the other jarring things is when characters use words that are out of character to describe themselves. When I'm walking along the street, I'm not thinking about the colour of my eyes, so if I mentioned that in a piece of fiction, I'm violating POV. If my character is running for his life, and the narrative reports: "He slammed his size-ten feet onto the pavement", then it's a POV breach because he's not going to be thinking of the size of his shoes at that point of time.
That's not the character speaking, it's the author -- the author who is trying to get more information across to the reader. Zip. I'm pulled out of the story, and that's not where I want to be, especially in the middle of the action. As always, it's good to see what other writers are doing. But I do often see POV breaches in published work and often wonder whether the editors don't notice them, or think that they're not important enough to bother an author over. For this reader they are. Always.

POV markers

I was leafing through one of my tried and trusted writing books the other day -- one called Scene and structure by Jack Bickham -- one of the many excellent productions put out by Writers Digest. Honestly, I can't extol the virtues of these books enough. I loved them before I ever started teaching writing, and once I started teaching I found them a godsend.

Anyway, Scene and structure was the one book that really nailed home the importance of causality in a story. Cause and effect -- even on a sentence letter. (Eg why "After I ate dinner, I went out" is a better sentence than "I ate dinner after I went out". Whereas if that had read "before" the second would be better -- it's all about information being presented in causal order.) He has lots on cause and effect, and stimulus and response, and this was vital to my own understanding of writing better fiction and to the way I taught this aspect of fiction.

So, it was with some bemusement that I came across a section where he talked about POV markers -- words a writer uses to tell a reader whose POV they're in. Words like "he felt", "she saw" etc. Words that I think tell the reader about what the character is experiencing when really the writer should be showing them. I think that if the writer has written something from firmly within the character's POV, the reader understands that they are feeling, seeing, smelling, hearing these things, so putting these markers in is the exact opposite to what I'm telling my students, which is: take them out.

Anything in moderation is okay. If you're writing in first person and have an "I felt" every ten pages or so, that's fine, but if you've got several on every page, I'm going to be thinking that you're not deeply enough inside your POV character's head. It's something I seem to say a lot in class: "You need a closer POV". I want my students to write from the inside out, to be the character (or at least think like him or her) while they're writing. Readers today are so much more used to intimacy with a character -- whether it's in first person or third-person multiple viewpoints. I think that lack of intimacy is why third-person omniscient (where the writer can dip in and out of any character's head, and even give their own thoughts on the matter at hand) feels dated today (though you do still see it in spec fic writing quite a bit).

So, I'm interested in what other writers think. Do you consciously put POV markers into your text, or are you like me and try to avoid them?

In any case, the Bickham book is still worth a read for all his great stuff on causality, and on other structural elements too. But perhaps it's a reminder that opinions differ -- I shudder when I think of all the different information I've heard about synopses, and how contradictory it all is. But that's something for a future post.