In Chapter 8 of Writing the Breakout Novel Workbook, Donald Maass spends a lot of time on the idea of why we do what we do. Not just the big things, but the little ones too. He says it’s because we care. Without feeling like what we do matters, there’s no sense in getting out of bed in the morning.
So what happens when life presents us (or our characters) with a serious test? When faced by the ultimate stakes, we call up our deepest beliefs and convictions. Maass insists we find that point in our manuscript where the protagonist’s stakes hit home, a point of no return, and suggests writing out a paragraph to show the final unfolding of the character’s most primary motivation. Then, he asks us to imagine it as the opening paragraph.
He goes on to say it likely won’t work as an opening paragraph, but that you should be thinking in terms of that character’s irrevocable commitment from the start. What commitment has the character made that he just cannot turn away from that drives his actions and decisions and gives him the means to move forward? Why does he continue to get out of bed in the morning? Piling on heavy commitment and smothering your character with it at the beginning isn’t necessary, but giving them something to care passionately about at the beginning shouldn’t be overlooked. If it can connect to that emotionally charged moment later, even if it’s buried deep, all the better.
Maass claims this emotionally charged moment also has an opposite: a moment where of irresolution, aversion, justified selfishness or some similar reaction occurs. Identify that moment for your character. Find a place earlier in your manuscript, well before the moment of commitment, and place this juxtaposing bit there.
The idea behind this exercise isn’t necessarily to create usable paragraphs, but to enrich and deepen your characters actions with his inner commitment. If you have co-protagonists, make sure they both have strong commitments. Don’t leave out your antagonist too. Maass believes, all this conviction and emotional commitment from your characters will only increase that of your readers. It certainly can’t hurt.
Again, I think this is one of those things that makes sense on the surface, but is so much easier said than done and if done correctly, will really enrich your writing. As a reader, this is exactly the kind of thing I enjoy and appreciate when the author takes the time to work it in.
Can I do it myself? I don’t know. Thinking about Marcia and what makes her tick, I’m having a hard time with it, but I am seeing a common thread between her and Tabitha. I don’t think it’s THE thing in this instance, but it’s interesting nonetheless. I know the hero of this story needs a lot of work in this regard. I’m frustrated with his obstinate cardboard consistency.
Jodi’s got a great post about Internal Dialogue on her blog and I was teasing her about how many volumes would be in her book on craft of writing. In the comments section, she talks about wanting three sections for it. Groundwork, Technique and Layering. If you haven’t read her blog yet, go now. Great stuff there!
Anyway, my point here is I see this first section of Maass’ book as Groundwork. The stronger the foundation, the easier and strong everything else should be. It helps to know your characters inside and out to be able to tailor the plot to their particular idiosyncracies, fears, hopes, and dreams. Otherwise, the result can feel flat, formulaic and unsatisfying.
one big fat volume (like a tome) and a couple of smaller tome-ettes. I just read something by a professor of media (I didn’t know that was a field, lol) and it was sorta kinda along the sorta sideways kind of line of what I’d like to do, but it was thesis language and heavy, hip deep, wading. I’m still trying to figure out if it was worth the fifty five dollars used textbook price, but–it was interesting. Under all the footnotes and citations.
Textbook authors need extra compensation for all those footnotes, citations and high-priced words! I know what you mean though. I’d rather read something that conveys the ideas, but does it in a conversational manner in plain English.
Big ideas and even complex ones are great, but if you can’t communicate it… pfft. It’s one thing I like about DH’s book, it’s a serious look at game design and how it affects people and how you can design for fun and what fun means in terms of learning — some complex stuff in there. BUT, it’s presented so that there’s a page of text followed by a page filled with a cartoon that illustrates the point. And yay! It’s back in print.