October 2020 - Katherine Cowley

#20: Use Unsympathetic Characters Effectively

October 28, 2020/0 Comments/in Jane Austen Writing Lessons /by Katherine Cowley

Last week, I wrote about how to create sympathetic characters, and why they are so useful. To make your characters unsympathetic, you often use the reverse techniques.

Here are some of the major techniques which create unsympathetic characters:

Give the character unrelatable motives and actions.
Give the character an unrelatable perspective (in the case of a non-viewpoint character, sometimes the things that form the character’s perspective—their background and their situation—are unknown to the reader, which makes it more likely that we will perceive the character and their choices as unsympathetic).
Have the character act in unlikeable ways.
Further, have the character be cruel, unkind, or selfish. Have them hurt others (we especially dislike when characters hurt a character, animal, or thing that we care about as readers).
Make the character too perfect or too imperfect (or too miserable in their circumstances).
Have the character not learn from their mistakes and forgo opportunities to improve.
Make the character not self-aware.

Emma (in Jane Austen’s novel of the same title) is a great example of an effective unsympathetic character. It is challenging to write an unsympathetic main character who routinely takes actions that the reader disagrees with—yet Austen has done so in a way that keeps us engaged and even rooting for Emma.

Gif of Emma looking at the audience from the 2020 film

Gif of Emma from the 2020 film

The techniques Austen uses are useful whether you’re writing an unsympathetic protagonist, antagonist, or supporting character, and they are also useful if you are making a largely sympathetic character unsympathetic for a portion of the story.

Unsympathetic Character Feature: Emma

Emma is Jane Austen’s only heroine that is truly, undeniably rich. At the beginning of the novel, her governess marries, and she is left alone with her father. She befriends Harriet Smith and tries to teach her to be more refined.

Yet Harriet is in love with a Mr. Martin, and even though he is respectable and owns his own land and could make Harriet happy, Emma is opposed to the match, and she justifies this opposition by claiming that Mr. Martin is beneath Harriet in status (however, as Mr. Knightley points out, this is not actually the case).

As Harriet and Emma are walking one day, they see Mr. Martin, and Harriet speaks with him briefly. After, an excited Harriet asks Emma:

“Well, Miss Woodhouse, is he like what you expected? What do you think of him? Do you think him so very plain?”

“He is very plain, undoubtedly—remarkably plain:—but that is nothing, compared with his entire want of gentility. I had no right to expect much, and I did not expect much; but I had no idea that he could be so very clownish, so totally without air. I had imagined him, I confess, a degree or two nearer gentility.”

“To be sure,” said Harriet, in a mortified voice, “he is not so genteel as a real gentleman.”

Emma’s words hurt Harriet, but because Emma is highborn and sophisticated and well-spoken, Harriet does not protest. A few chapters later, Mr. Martin proposes (via letter) to Harriet, and Emma convinces Harriet to turn him down (though she does it in a way that forces Harriet to make the decision as if on her own). These are unsympathetic actions which derive from faulty judgement and selfish motives (wanting to keep Harriet to herself). Though we understand Emma’s perspective, we are not meant to relate to it, and instead, we latch on to Mr. Knightley’s criticism of Emma’s behavior.

Note: A key to writing an unsympathetic character is that this character must believe that their motives and actions are good/necessary/justified. In Emma’s mind, she is doing what is best for Harriet and saving her friend.

Emma’s Redeeming Qualities

Though Emma consistently does unsympathetic things, we keep reading because of her redeeming qualities:

She is witty and intelligent
She can be humorous (and the narrator is particularly funny)
In general, the people in her community like her
She is active and engaging

All of these redeeming qualities give us some level of sympathy for Emma, which brings me to my next point: unsympathetic characters should still have sympathetic qualities.

Even though her judgment can be faulty and her actions unkind, sometimes she has better judgment and shows a stronger awareness of the needs and desires of others. For instance, Emma’s father hates marriage and is upset that Miss Taylor has become Mrs. Weston:

Poor Miss Taylor!—I wish she were here again. What a pity it is that Mr. Weston ever thought of her!”

“I cannot agree with you, papa; you know I cannot. Mr. Weston is such a good-humoured, pleasant, excellent man, that he thoroughly deserves a good wife;–and you would not have had Miss Taylor live with us for ever and bear all my odd humours, when she might have a house of her own?”

We can become invested in unsympathetic characters when they are more sympathetic (in one or more areas) than their fellow characters.

Emma’s Self-Awareness

If Emma was completely self-aware, she would realize the full, sometimes terrible consequences of her actions.

Yet she shows a certain level of self-awareness. This can be seen as she talks about, thinks about, and interacts with Jane Fairfax, a long-time acquittance who has come to stay in Highbury. Here’s an excerpt from a rather lengthy passage (bolding is my own):

Emma was sorry;—to have to pay civilities to a person she did not like through three long months!—to be always doing more than she wished, and less than she ought! Why she did not like Jane Fairfax might be a difficult question to answer; Mr. Knightley had once told her it was because she saw in her the really accomplished young woman, which she wanted to be thought herself; and though the accusation had been eagerly refuted at the time, there were moments of self-examination in which her conscience could not quite acquit her. But “she could never get acquainted with her: she did not know how it was, but there was such coldness and reserve—such apparent indifference whether she pleased or not—and then, her aunt was such an eternal talker!—and she was made such a fuss with by every body!—and it had been always imagined that they were to be so intimate—because their ages were the same, every body had supposed they must be so fond of each other.” These were her reasons—she had no better.

It was a dislike so little just—every imputed fault was so magnified by fancy, that she never saw Jane Fairfax the first time after any considerable absence, without feeling that she had injured her; and now, when the due visit was paid, on her arrival, after a two years’ interval, she was particularly struck with the very appearance and manners, which for those two whole years she had been depreciating. Jane Fairfax was very elegant, remarkably elegant; and she had herself the highest value for elegance.

Emma is aware of her own unfairness, and she is aware that her “dislike [is] so little just.” Yet as the scene progresses, she continues to justify her negative behavior and actions towards Jane based on perceived faults:

She was, besides, which was the worst of all, so cold, so cautious! There was no getting at her real opinion. Wrapt up in a cloak of politeness, she seemed determined to hazard nothing. She was disgustingly, was suspiciously reserved.

Even though we cannot completely condone Emma’s behavior and attitude, she does become more sympathetic as we are immersed in her perspective.

Reasons to Create an Unsympathetic Character

There are many reasons that you might want to create an unsympathetic character:

To make it clear that the narrator (and/or the author) does not agree with or condone the character’s actions and behavior. (If this is one of the goals, it’s often useful to have a character like Mr. Knightley in Emma who criticizes or calls the character out on their behavior.)
It’s a powerful way to create tension, drama, and conflict.
Controlling and shifting the reader’s sympathies can create a powerful emotional reaction for the reader.
Humans do unsympathetic things all the time, and it’s interesting and compelling to explore this aspect of humanity in literature.
An unsympathetic main character has a greater potential to grow and change.
For characters that are largely sympathetic, having scenes where they are unsympathetic can create contrast with and help build to key scenes where the character makes admirable, sympathetic choices that we can really root for (the cartoonist Howard Tayler talks about these as “stand up and cheer” moments).

Emma’s internal journey is about her rethinking her place in the community and learning to be kinder and let others choose what is best for themselves. She shows tremendous growth over the novel, and it’s largely made possible through her being an unsympathetic character.

Writing Exercises - Jane Austen Writing Lessons

Exercise 1: Who is your favorite unsympathetic character? This could be a protagonist, an antagonist, or a supporting character. Why are they unsympathetic? And why do you like them?

Exercise 2: Take a classic fairy tale character that is generally sympathetic (i.e. Cinderella). Write a scene which makes this character unsympathetic to the reader. Remember to temper the character and give them some redeeming or positive qualities.

Exercise 3: Different techniques for unsympathetic characters can create very different effects. Take one of your characters—this could be a new or an existing character. Now choose three of the following techniques you could use to make them unsympathetic:

Give the character unrelatable motives and actions.
Give the character an unrelatable perspective.
Have the character act in unlikeable ways.
Further, have the character be cruel, unkind, or selfish. Have them hurt others (we especially dislike when characters hurt a character, animal, or thing that we care about as readers).
Make the character too perfect or too imperfect (or too miserable in their circumstances).
Have the character not learn from their mistakes and forgo opportunities to improve.
Make the character not self-aware.

For each technique you choose, brainstorm a scene that could use this technique to make the character unsympathetic. (If you’d like to take it one step farther, you can write these scenes.)

#19: Make Your Characters Sympathetic

October 21, 2020/0 Comments/in Jane Austen Writing Lessons /by Katherine Cowley

In a letter to her niece Fanny Knight in March 1817, Jane Austen mentioned that she had a new novel, nearing readiness for publication: “You will not like it, so you need not be impatient. You may perhaps like the Heroine, as she is almost too good for me.”

Jane Austen died a few months after her letter, but her family had the novel published posthumously. That novel is Persuasion, and its heroine, Anne Elliot, is—despite Austen’s self-deprecating comments—a true gift to readers.

Anne Elliot is a prime example of a sympathetic character. She broke off an engagement with Captain Wentworth ten years before the start of the novel, and now he is back in her life. She wonders—and we wonder, with just as much desperation and longing—if she will have a second chance with him.

A sympathetic character is a character who we feel compassion for and connection to. It is a character that we find likeable.

The Oxford English Dictionary (also known as the OED) is over 21,000 pages long and is probably the most massive English dictionary in the world. It is also my favorite dictionary (yes, I have a favorite dictionary). Note: I don’t own a physical copy—that would be insane, but it is online and accessible through many library subscriptions!

Image of the Compact OED from Aalfons. The normal version is almost two dozen huge books.

The OED goes into great depth in defining the word sympathy. We’ll look at some of the OED’s definitions of sympathy, and then use examples from Persuasion to examine how to use these definitions to create sympathetic characters.

Sympathy: "A (real or supposed) affinity between certain things, by virtue of which they are similarly or correspondingly affected by the same influence, affect or influence one another…or attract or tend towards each other." -Oxford English Dictionary

The OED cites an example from 1601 which talks about the sympathy between iron and loadstone—in other words, sympathy is like a magnet and a paperclip: there is some inherent similar quality which creates an attraction between them.

One of the main reasons we turn to literature is because stories create feelings of sympathy. We see ourselves in literature. Stories changes us. We become part of the experience in the text, and the text becomes part of our own experience.

In the latter half of Persuasion, Anne is living in Bath with her father and sister. She attends a concert with them, and Captain Wentworth is present. Anne and Wentworth have a nice conversation before the concert, but during the concert Anne is seated next to another man who is interested in her, Mr. Elliot. We see ourselves in Anne as, during the concert, she tries to catch Wentworth’s eye, but is unable to. We feel Anne’s frustrations with Mr. Elliot and his flirtation; like her, we cannot truly be interested in him. We are one with Anne and agree with her motives and her actions when she manages to change seats partway through the concert so she is at the edge of a row and has the hope of talking to Wentworth.

Captain Wentworth leaves before the concert is over:

He must wish her good night. He was going—he should get home as fast as he could.

“Is not this song worth staying for?” said Anne, suddenly struck by an idea which made her yet more anxious to be encouraging.

“No!” he replied impressively, “there is nothing worth my staying for;” and he was gone directly.

Jealousy of Mr. Elliot! It was the only intelligible motive. Captain Wentworth jealous of her affection! Could she have believed it a week ago—three hours ago! For a moment the gratification was exquisite. But alas! There were very different thoughts to succeed. How was such jealousy to be quieted? How was the truth to reach him? How, in all the peculiar disadvantages of their respective situations, would he ever learn her real sentiments? It was misery to think of Mr. Elliot’s attentions. – Their evil was incalculable.

Anne is an especially sympathetic character in this scene.

A character is sympathetic when we as readers can:

Understand the character’s perspective
- This scene is in Anne’s point of view, and with Austen’s presentation, it is easy to understand Anne’s perspective on the situation, her history with Wentworth, and her desires. We are aided by internal thought as the narration slips into Anne’s mind and thoughts.
- This scene also helps us understand Wentworth’s perspective. He is not the point of view character, but his perspective is revealed through his dialogue and behavior, and we can understand him as a person and feel a shared humanity with him.

AND/OR

Relate to the character’s motives and actions
- In this scene, we can relate to Anne’s motives, particularly her desire to fix things between her and Wentworth.
- Her actions are also actions that we feel like we would take if we were in the same situation.

Note that there are plenty of times when we might not relate to the character’s motives and actions—personally, I do not relate to Anne’s actions as much during the first half of the novel, when Anne avoids attempting to have an in-depth conversation with Captain Wentworth. But even if I don’t agree with her actions (or in other cases, her motives) I can understand why she’s making her choices, so I can still maintain a level of sympathy for her.

Additional techniques for creating sympathetic characters

Now we’re going to look at three more definitions of sympathy from the OED, which will help us understand additional techniques and approaches which can be used to create sympathetic characters.

Sympathy: "A favourable attitude of mind towards a party, cause, etc.; disposition to agree or approve." -Oxford English Dictionary

In the screenwriting book Save the Cat, Blake Snyder talks about the need for the audience to feel sympathy for the main character early on. He calls this the “save the cat” moment; in some films, the main character will literally save a cat, and this will instantly endear them to us. Basically, we feel favorably when people take actions that we can agree or approve of, and in general, as people, we approve of acts of kindness, we approve of someone doing something good or self-sacrificing. We like kind people.

Near the beginning of Persuasion, Anne has a strong “save the cat” moment. Anne’s nephew is ill, and this will prevent her sister from going to eat dinner at another family’s house. Anne’s sister very vocally and desperately expresses her desire to attend the dinner—she suffers from what today we like to call FOMO, fear of missing out. Anne has even better desires than her sister for attending the dinner—Captain Wentworth will be there, and Anne has not seen him in the ten years since she broke off their engagement.

Anne makes the decision to take care of her nephew so that her sister and brother-in-law can go to the dinner:

She knew herself to be of the first utility to the child; and what was it to her, if Frederick Wentworth were only half a mile distant, making himself agreeable to others!

Having a save the cat moment can help us sympathize with not just with a main character, but with any character. If, for example, you want us to have sympathy and understanding for an antagonist’s motives (which can be a powerful tool to make them a rounded, full character), have them do something good or kind for another character.

Sympathy: "The quality or state of being thus affected by the suffering or sorrow of another; a feeling of compassion or commiseration." -Oxford English Dictionary

I talked about this in the post on passive characters—we sympathize with Fanny Price in Mansfield Park because of the poor way others treat her. We sympathize with suffering (though if there is too much suffering or a character feels pitiable, sometimes we find it too hard or uncomfortable to sympathize).

We also like to root for underdogs, for people who have to prove themselves. Anne Elliot is undervalued by her father and sisters; in the opening scenes of the novel, they dismiss her ideas and advice. We also see Anne suffering when Wentworth pursues another woman, and we feel for Anne in these moments.

Sympathy: "Conformity of feelings, inclinations, or temperament." -Oxford English Dictionary

Conformity is about norms, and we sympathize with characters within certain norms. We sympathize with characters that meet our expectations of behavior and temperament. In literature, characters are often better than ourselves: they are a little more consistent, a little more understandable. They can be better examples of certain virtues or ideologies.

Yet if characters are too good or too perfect or too smart or too capable, we stop sympathizing with them. Just as in real life, we often don’t like people who seem too perfect; we feel more distance between us and characters that seem so much greater or better than us, because they are not like us.

Sympathetic characters must be like us: they must have weaknesses. They must try and they must fail, repeatedly, because it is trying and failing and trying again that makes us human.

Anne’s weaknesses are plenty: she is at times too easily persuadable. She veils her emotions. She does not stand up for herself. And because of this, she feels real and we sympathize with her struggles and failures and attempts to achieve her goals.

The Spectrum Between Sympathetic and Unsympathetic Characters

Like with active and passive characters, there is a spectrum between sympathetic and unsympathetic characters, and characters typically move up and down this spectrum over the course of a story. At times characters—even make characters—are predominantly unsympathetic. Next week I’ll focus on effectively using unsympathetic characters.

Whether your character is mostly sympathetic or only occasionally sympathetic, it helps the reader connect to the story. We like spending time with people we like, with people we have sympathy for. We root for them. And we are excited to travel with them on their journeys.

Exercise 1: There is a great Writing Excuses podcast episode on sympathetic characters (which I encourage you to listen to!). In addition to some of the points covered in this writing lesson, they address several other techniques that can help create sympathy for characters:

Character self-awareness
Humor
Vulnerability and openness

Take a character from a book or film that you find sympathetic, and examine what specifically makes them sympathetic, whether it’s the point of view, suffering, backstory, imperfections, relatable motives, humor, or other principles entirely.

Exercise 2: Write a brief scene of a character doing something that we generally find unsympathetic (i.e. taking a toy from a young child, ripping up a student’s paper, etc.). Write this scene in a way that will make a reader feel sympathy for this character.

Exercise 3: Take one of your characters that is generally sympathetic and write a brief scene that makes them less sympathetic. Then, take one of your characters that is generally unsympathetic and write a brief scene that makes the more sympathetic. What did this achieve? What would the impact of this scene be on an audience? Does this scene teach you anything about your own characters?

#18: Use Passive Characters Effectively

October 14, 2020/1 Comment/in Jane Austen Writing Lessons /by Katherine Cowley

In Pride and Prejudice, Charlotte Lucas makes the decision that Elizabeth refuses: she marries Mr. Collins. Molly Greeley’s recent novel, The Clergyman’s Wife, is a compelling story which features Mrs. Charlotte Collins three years later. Charlotte is rather unhappy in her marriage, and begins the story as a rather passive character: she suffers in silence, she struggles to know what to write in her letters to Elizabeth, and she follows the edicts of Lady Trafford and Mr. Collins.

Mr. Collins has never visited or shown real concern for those living in his parish, and neither has Charlotte. But Charlotte decides she wants to change—she decides she wants to do something for those around her, so she visits the elderly Mr. Travis, and then the solitary Mrs. Fitzgibbon. As a result of her visits, Charlotte is criticized by both her husband and Lady Catherine. Yet Charlotte holds her own, and justifies her actions in a way that does not allow them to prevent them in the future.

The look Lady Catherine bestows upon me puts me in mind of the looks she used to give Elizabeth, when my friend dared to speak her true thoughts to her ladyship upon visiting me in the early days of my marriage.

Charlotte’s action is small but it feels heroic, and it shifts her from being a rather passive character to becoming a more active one.

Cover of The Clergyman's Wife by Molly Greeley

As discussed in the previous post on active characters, there is no true dichotomy between active and passive characters, but rather, it is a spectrum, and many characters shift to different points of this spectrum throughout the course of the story. At times it may even be useful to keep a character relatively passive for the entire story.

Character Scale: Passive to Active Characters (Jane Austen Writing Lessons)

Yet choosing to write a passive character—whether for a portion or the entire novel—is challenging: it is easier to effectively write an active character than a passive one, because interest and empathy is automatically given to active characters, and must be gained in other ways by passive characters.

Jane Austen’s novel Mansfield Park features a generally passive character: Fanny Price.

As a young child, Fanny is brought to live with her aunt and uncle, the Bertrams, at Mansfield Park. Now that she is older, the Bertrams decide Fanny will live her terrible Aunt Mrs. Norris. Fanny is surprised, and this reaction shows, but she does nothing to try to change her situation. She complains a little to her one confidant, her cousin Edmund, but she does nothing active to change her fate. She is saved by outside forces: Mrs. Norris does not want her.

Later, the old horse she uses for exercises dies. This is something that happens to Fanny, and Fanny does nothing—in fact, because of her precarious situation as someone who has been taken in by the family, there is nothing she can do without risk of losing her home.

Edmund eventually notices what this loss has done to Fanny, and he takes it upon himself to put things to right. He is the active character in this situation, not Fanny.

Illustration of Fanny Price in Mansfield Park by C.E. Brock in 1908

1908 illustration of Fanny Price by C.E. Brock (in public domain)

After the arrival of the Grants and the Crawfords in the area, the narrator even comments on Fanny’s passivity:

And Fanny, what was she doing and thinking all this while? and what was her opinion of the new-comers? Few young ladies of eighteen could be less called on to speak their opinion than Fanny.

The number of people who claim Mansfield Park as their favorite Austen novel is a smaller number than those who love her other novels, and many readers find Mansfield Park a challenging book to read. I would argue that this is in part because Fanny is a passive character for much of this novel, and this makes it less accessible for some readers. Fanny also does not have a strong, forward-moving want or desire: at the beginning of the novel, Fanny wants to be left alone—she wants peace. And she does not take decisive actions to achieve this. Yet the novel is brilliant on so many levels, and Fanny’s character is an essential aspect.

In general, readers like forward motion and are drawn to characters with strong desires who reach for them. Readers can lose patience if it feels like the characters or the story is stalled.

One approach is to make passivity a part of the journey, as Molly Greeley does in The Clergyman’s Wife. By page fifty, Charlotte has taken a number of steps to being more active.

In Mansfield Park, it is much longer before Fanny becomes an active character, yet Austen uses other techniques to maintain interest and forward movement.

One of the ways Austen does this is by making Fanny’s character needs so great. At the beginning of the novel, some of Fanny’s basic survival needs are not being met: the Bertrams do not even allow her a fire in her rooms during the winter. (I am still pretty angry at Fanny’s relatives for this!) She also needs basic security: at any point, she knows that she could be thrown out of her home without warning, and this is threatened by her aunt Mrs. Norris even when Fanny expresses distaste for acting in a play.

If we move further up Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, which I discussed in lesson 15, Fanny’s needs continue. Her psychological needs are great: she needs kindness, she needs acceptance, she needs friendship. (At the start of the novel, Edmund is her one friend, but plenty of his behaviors throughout the novel cause her further anxiety). Finally, Fanny needs love.

Fanny’s needs create sympathy from the reader: we want her situation to improve.

In the long-running (and Hugo award-winning) podcast Writing Excuses, author Brandon Sanderson talks about an approach to characters that he calls character sliders. For him, there are three sliders, or components of character:

Sympathetic/Relatable/Nice
Active
Competent

These sliders are like sound mixing: the three combine to create characters. One slider may be set low and then move higher; another slider component may stay at a certain level; one of the sliders may start high and then lower over the course of the novel. If one of the sliders is really low—for example, a character is very passive—then the character should probably be higher at one or both of the other sliders. Typically, the sliders do move up and down throughout the course of the novel.

In Mansfield Park, not only do we sympathize with Fanny because of her situation, but because she has competence in a particular area: her sense of morality and her innate goodness. Because she is sympathetic and competent in a particular area, we like her as a character even though she not often active.

A few other points to consider when working with passive characters:

If your main character is passive, other characters and events must create forward movement in the story. For example, in Mansfield Park, forward movement is created by the visit to Mr. Rushworth’s estate, the decision to stage a theatrical, and the engagement of Maria Bertram.
Everyone has moments when they are passive. Consider how you can use this to help your character on their internal and external journeys.
If the main character is externally passive, their thoughts and interior emotions can be revealing and insightful. For example, as her cousins their friends began to plan the theatrical, Fanny’s internal thoughts engage the reader and provide additional insight.

Fanny looked on and listened, not unamused to observe the selfishness which, more or less disguised, seemed to govern them all, and wondering how it would end. For her own gratification she could have wished that something might be acted, for she had never seen even half a play, but every thing of higher consequence was against it.

Finally, a passive character can be a thematic choice or provide social commentary. Fanny is a woman who has almost no choices, and whose situation makes it impossible for her to be truly active. Yet through it all, she does find inner strength, and she does ultimately assert herself, sometimes with dire consequences. Many readers who love Mansfield Park see part of themselves in Fanny; they admire her quiet strength, and find her slow resistance both inspiring and empowering, for there truly are many life circumstances where we have no control, no power.

Exercise 1: Draft a short scene using one of your characters you’ve already developed, or an entirely new character. Have the character change how passive or active they are throughout the scene. They could:

Start the scene active and become more passive
Start passive and then become more active
Start passive and then become even more passive
Move back and forth several times between passive and active

Exercise 2: Choose a character from a book or a film that you typically think of as an active character. Find at least three examples in their story where they are more passive than normal or become a completely passive character. What is the impact of these moments on the story?

Exercise 3: If you are outlining, plan a point in the story where you want your character to be passive. If your character is generally active, one common place to make your character more passive is at the moment before the climax, where it seems like all is lost (this is also called “the night of despair”).

If you are revising a story, find a point where your character is passive (or more passive than in the rest of the story). How can you increase sympathy for the character at this point? Is there still a sense of forward movement in the story? What do we learn from the character’s thoughts and emotions? Is the character’s passivity a conscious choice or forced upon her? How could this passive scene be used to strengthen the theme of the story? Revise the scene to strengthen the impact of using a passive character.

#17: Make Your Characters Active

October 7, 2020/0 Comments/in Jane Austen Writing Lessons /by Katherine Cowley

In 2012 I created a daily video blog, where every single day I posted a five to thirty second video of something interesting. As I worked on this project, I discovered that only certain categories of things would work for the project:

A still shot (the camera not moving) with something moving inside the frame
A moving shot (the camera moving) with something moving inside the frame
A moving shot (the camera moving) with still objects

The only other option—a still shot with nothing moving—was not actually an option. Because that would be a photograph, not a video.

I quickly discovered that the best videos fit in categories 1 or 2. If something was moving in the frame, it attracted interested, regardless of what I did with the camera. (As a side note, my main claim to internet fame is that Day 119 of my blog—which features a DVD screensaver hitting the corner of the TV screen—has been viewed over 50,000 times.)

TV Screensaver Hitting the Corner of the TV

Our eyes are drawn immediately to things in motion. Our eyes, and often our hearts. This is the power of using active characters.

Readers are drawn to active characters. Active characters are doing. Outside things may happen to them, but they are not just observers or reactors. They do not let themselves be pushed around or be determined by others. They go, they do, they strive.

Making your protagonist an active character creates a powerful story. This propels them on an external journey, through the plot, with all its outward struggle and growth. It also propels them through an internal journey, facilitating character development, with its inner struggle and growth.

Both of the female leads in Sense and Sensibility—the two oldest Dashwood sisters—are active characters. The eldest sister, Elinor, is active—she steers her mother away from renting too expensive of a house, and she does much to ease the pain of others and make their cottage a home. The middle sister, Marianne, is active in a different direction.

Marianne refuses to let others play matchmaker with her future and is guided by her own opinions and philosophies. (Unlike Elinor, she is unafraid of offending others, and not held back by a strong sense of decorum.) She is energetic, and attempts to find and make beauty in the world.

Their cottage is in a beautiful countryside, and on a somewhat blustery day, Marianne encourages her younger sister Margaret to walk with her:

They gaily ascended the downs, rejoicing in their own penetration at every glimpse of blue sky; and when they caught in their faces the animating gales of a high south-westerly wind, they pitied the fears which had prevented their mother and Elinor from sharing such delightful sensations.

“Is there a felicity in the world,” said Marianne, “superior to this?—Margaret, we will walk here at least two hours.”

Their walk, however, is cut short by the driving rain. Marianne is an active character, in charge of her own destiny, but even she cannot prevent the weather. Yet even in reacting to the weather, she resists passivity:

Chagrined and surprised, they were obliged, though unwillingly, to turn back, for no shelter was nearer than their own house. One consolation however remained for them, to which the exigence of the moment gave more than usual propriety; it was that of running with all possible speed down the steep side of the hill which led immediately to their garden gate.

Marianne is delightful because of her energy, her joyous outlook on life, and her refusal to do things in a simple, boring way.

As a result of her action, she hurts her ankle on the hill, and is rescued by a charming gentleman, Mr. Willoughby, who carries her home.

"You mustn't walk on it" -- Willoughby carries Marianne

Over the coming chapters, Marianne becomes quite attached to Willoughby. This worries Elinor, who actively encourages Marianne to be more careful with her affections, particularly with how they might be interpreted by others outside of their family. Marianne actively resists Elinor’s advice, and responds:

“You are mistaken, Elinor,” said she warmly, “in supposing I know very little of Willoughby. I have not known him long indeed, but I am much better acquainted with him, than I am with any other creature in the world, except yourself and mama. It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy;—it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others. I should hold myself guilty of greater impropriety in accepting a horse from my brother, than from Willoughby. Of John I know very little, though we have lived together for years; but of Willoughby my judgment has long been formed.”

What are the marks of an active character?

An active character:

Reaches for their goals or wants
Engages in purposeful dialogue that attempts to have impact, persuade, or create change
Takes actions—large or small—with purpose
When reacting to outside events, asserts themselves and does things their own way

An active character can be bold or shy, outspoken or quiet, and their actions can be grand or minute. But something internal propels them forward.

Yet no character is fully active, and as writers, we shouldn’t consider it a dichotomous choice between active and passive characters. No character is active all of the time—nor should they be. This movement along the spectrum of active and passive can be powerful.

Later on in Sense and Sensibility, Marianne falls into a deep depression, and becomes a largely inactive character. Her moments of activity—like taking a walk in bad weather—do her more harm than good. She becomes ill, which forces further inactivity upon her: at this point it is the doctor’s treatment and fate which determine her future.

Yet the fact that Marianne is generally an active character both creates audience investment in her and helps drive the story forward. Then, in these moments of passivity, we still root for her.

Exercise 1: The following passage focuses on a passive character:

“You want vanilla?” asked George.

Rudy nodded at her brother. “Sure.” Vanilla was as good as any other flavor.

George ordered and paid. “My treat,” he said. “It’s been way too long.”

“Thanks,” said Rudy.

The server gave them their ice cream and they sat down to a table.

“How’s work going?” asked Rudy.

He told stories about his adventures as a plumber, and some of the crazy things he learned about people’s personal lives.

“How’s work going for you?” asked George.

“Same as always,” said Rudy.

George’s phone rang. He looked at the screen. “Mind if I take this?”

“Not at all.”

He stepped out of the ice cream shop.

Rudy looked around the restaurant at the happy families, happy couples. There was only one person sitting alone, a man about her age. He made eye contact, and she looked down, pretending she hadn’t noticed.

Rewrite the passage to make Rudy a more active character. You could make her more active throughout, or in just one section of the scene. Also, feel free to take the scene in a different direction.

Exercise 2: Read a book or watch a film and analyze the text for active and passive characters. Who is passive? Who is active? Are there moments when characters become more passive or more active, and what is the result? As you analyze, pay particular attention to the protagonist.

Exercise 3: If you’ve drafted a novel or as short story, analyze each scene/chapter for where your main character falls on the spectrum from active to passive. Assign each scene a number from 1 to 10 on a passive to active scale. For the purposes of this exercise, use 10 to mean a character is extremely active, a 7 or 8 for active, a 5 or 6 for scenes with both active and passive elements, a 3 for passive, and a 1 for extremely passive.

What sort of arc or movement is created by the main character’s movement along the passive-active spectrum? Are there scenes where your character should be more active? Where your character should be more passive? Where your character should be wrestling with both active and passive tendencies in themselves?

Archive for month: October, 2020

Unsympathetic Character Feature: Emma

Emma’s Redeeming Qualities

Emma’s Self-Awareness

Reasons to Create an Unsympathetic Character

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A character is sympathetic when we as readers can:

Additional techniques for creating sympathetic characters

The Spectrum Between Sympathetic and Unsympathetic Characters

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A few other points to consider when working with passive characters:

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Our eyes are drawn immediately to things in motion. Our eyes, and often our hearts. This is the power of using active characters.

What are the marks of an active character?

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