I used to be too nice to my main characters.
I’d put them in danger, I’d subject them to fights they couldn’t win, I’d imprison them, and once I had aliens install a brain implant through my character’s nose.
But these sorts of discomforts and pains are first level pains. Readers can be intrigued by these problems, but they’re so used to reading them, they don’t feel especially moved by them.
You could write more graphic detail, the kind of thing people need to read with thier hands over their eyes. And I suppose there are genres where that’s what readers are looking for.
But what we want readers to feel mostly is a desperate yearning for the main character to overcome, escape, and perhaps get revenge. In romance we want the couple to come together forever.
And it’s the doubt, discomfort, pain that makes that payoff . . . well, pay off.
Enter the Dark Night of the Soul, the nadir of the character’s arc, the low point of all low points, rock bottom, the last hope of victory is extinguished.
I’ve noticed three reasons why writer wimp out:
- Writers are fond of their characters and are too soft on them
- Writers fear putting characters into a hopeless situation because they don’t know how to get the characters out of it
- Writers fear that taking away hope will force a fundamental change on the world they don’t want to write
The psychology of the story is the psychology of the author, and there are caves we don’t want to enter.
But that’s where the path leads, invariably. The reader needs you to go in there and take them with.
If your main character dies, you’ve written a tragedy. That’s fine, and if you’ve signaled to the reader that this is what’s happening, they will accept it. If you’re writting a romance, you will alienate readers, who want a Happily Ever After.
Or maybe your main character dies and is ressurected, literally or figuratively. It’s hard to literally kill your main character without a deus ex machina resurrection. So we kill them metaphorically by taking their power, killing (or appearing to kill) their loved ones, and showing the villain’s victory.
In Writing the Blockbuster Novel Albert Zuckerman notes that the hero must fall into the power of the villain. He’s been captured, gun taken, hands bound, surrounded by guards.
All these tropes are designed to create the enormous emotional contrast when the hero gets free and vanquishes the villain.
Indiana Jones fails to keep the Ark of the Covenant out of the Nazi’s hands. He and his girlfriend Marion are captured, tied up, and forced to witness the relic being opened.
Whip snapping, gun shooting, and fist fighting got him this far, but it’s his knowledge as an archeologist and his respect for historical relics (“It belongs in a museum!” he tells Belloq about the Aztec idol at the beginning) and his experience that all treasures have traps, that saves him. “Don’t look at it!” he tells Marion.
It requires sacrifice. For Indy to survive he has to turn away from the mystery.
And there’s a bit of a hint for how to get your character out of that dark moment. Look to the qualities of their character, not their physical skills, to get help them out of the darkest moment.
For Luke Skywalker to survive against Darth Vader in Empire Strikes Back, he can’t fight, his hand has been chopped off and his lightsaber lost. He doesn’t have enough command of the Force to beat Vader. But he has now way out except to join the Dark Side.
But he does have a choice, one that only a noble-hearted hero could make: to sacrifice himself by jumping to a probable death. (BTW, Han Solo is frozen in carbonite, giving the audience a worse-than-death horror to endure for THREE YEARS until the sequel came out. I remember, I was there!)
John McClane in Die Hard has to surrender to save his wife. Yes, he has taped a gun to his back, and he does use it once he’s Surrendered to Infiltrate the Fortress of the Villain, but this is total keeping with his New York cop street smarts.
In The Dark Knight, Batman chooses to take the fall for Harvey Dent’s “murder.” All his gadgets and fighting skills can’t fix the real problem: that the “White Knight” that was to clean Gotham up had gone bad and had to be killed. To preserve Dent’s reputation, Batman chooses to be seen as the villain.“Because he’s the hero Gotham deserves, but not the one it needs right now. So we’ll hunt him. Because he can take it. Because he’s not our hero. He’s a silent guardian, a watchful protector. A dark knight.”
Remember, you can scroll back in your manuscript and plant a few seeds that will blossom at just the right moment.