As writers, we see the worlds we create as our own, and we see our characters as belonging to us. This is my protagonist. That is my antagonist. We write out our fantasies and our nightmares, fulfilling our visions and wishes through our storytelling. But the sad truth is while we might create the world, it will ultimately belong to the readers who purchase our books or the viewers who watch the play, film or other form of entertainment developed from our scripts. We may start the creation process, but it is in their hands that our creations become complete.
Character is the reason people are willing to participate in the creation of our world. These readers/viewers want to find an escape from their lives, and identifying with the characters we create permits them to do this. By recognizing themselves in the individuals we write, it gives the reader/viewer a cathartic release, allowing them to feel the emotions they can’t experience in their daily routine. When a viewer watches an action film, he sees himself as the hero, saving the day one explosion at a time. When a reader falls in love with the dashing yet socially awkward male main character, she sees herself being loved and cherished in return. A bored housewife can experience sexual bliss in a well written piece of erotica, and a stressed out college student can get rid of his own stress while seeing how a protagonist thwarts the murderous plans of a villain.
That’s not to say all types of creative writing are intended to be escapist readings. Some writers choose to explore language with their stories; some just want to make money. Regardless of what the writer intended, the everyday reader or viewer wants to see themselves in the world they are witnessing through a novel, film or other narrative medium. Even if they are not reading for the sake of escapism, they still must be able to identify with the characters in order to go on the journey of the narrative.
Character is a gateway, opening the door between writer and experiencer. As writers, our job is to make sure each gateway we create is as unique, engaging, and believable as possible. While this means each personality needs to be different (and we will dive more into this in the next chapter), it also has much deeper implications. Not only does each character need to have a very unique temperament, but they need to have a purpose as well. These purposes are known as dramatic functions.
Dramatic Functions
When beginning to study or create character, one of the most important questions to ask is “What is the character’s purpose?” The easiest answers to come up with are “the protagonist” or “antagonist,” but dramatic functions can be much more complex than this. Almost every story out there contains more than just a protagonist and an antagonist, so we need to look at all those secondary characters and ask what they do and what purpose they serve. Harry Potter would be nothing without Ron and Hermione, but you can’t call either of them the protagonist or the antagonist. So what are their purposes?
In order to evaluate the purpose of a character, it’s important first to ask what that character’s relationship is to the protagonist or antagonist. Often, beginning writers like to think of the protagonist as “the hero.” This is true in many mainstream stories that utilize the classic trope of “good versus evil.” Harry Potter is definitely a hero; he valiantly defeats Voldemort on multiple occasions. Dorothy is a hero as well. She defeats the Wicked Witch of the West. In The Goonies, Mikey escapes the murderous Fratellis and saves his neighborhood. In The Dark Tower, Roland saves the crumbling Tower, which in turns saves his world as well as our own. Link saves Zelda. Hamlet destroys the evil King Claudius. These are all heroes in the basic definition.
But what about those protagonists who aren’t quite “heroes”? Elizabeth Bennett is definitely the protagonist of Pride and Prejudice, but can she be called a hero? She doesn’t overcome evil. In her pride, she prejudges a good yet flawed man and treats him with contempt for the majority of the book. Doug in The Town is a bank robber and recovering drug addict who blows off his ex-girlfriend, throwing her aside in his attempt to lead a “clean” life. In Wreck-It Ralph, the protagonist is a popular video game villain who loses his temper and is so concerned about what other people think, he almost destroys the Candy Land video game world of Sugar Rush. While all of these characters are identifiable and heroic, they can’t be called heroes without really stretching the definition of the word and forgiving them all their bad behaviors. So the word “hero” can’t really be used when trying to define the protagonist.
A better definition for protagonist would be the single character whose primary goal drives the main storyline. Without this character, the rest of the story wouldn’t exist. The character doesn’t have to be the “lead” character (although he or she usually is), but it is the one character who makes the narrative wheel turn. Even in an ensemble or buddy movie, there is usually one protagonist who drives the story forward. In Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure, Ted is the protagonist, not both of them. Ted is the one who has more to lose (he will be sent off to military school if they don’t pass history). This makes him the driving force behind all of their actions, despite the buddy movie framing.
In The Avengers, Nick Fury is the protagonist, even though he has less screen time than most of the super heroes. After Loki steals the Tesseract, Fury assembles the main heroes in order to get it back and save the world. Even though Westley might be the “hero” of The Princess Bride because he rescues the damsel in distress, it is the Grandfather telling Westley’s story to his Grandson that pushes the story forward, making him the protagonist (but more about him in Part Three). In the television show Supernatural, even though both brothers can be considered heroes (in season one, at least), the identity of the protagonist changes each week. Sometimes, Sam will be the protagonist of the episode because he is the primary force behind that week’s show, but other times, Dean will be the one in charge. Does this make either of them less of a hero? No. They kill demons and monsters each week, so they are still the good force defeating bad, but they can’t both be protagonists. Again, the protagonist is the driving force of the narrative – the character whose quest to achieve a goal is the entire reason why the story exists.
Conversely, the antagonist is the character whose goal most directly conflicts with the goal of the protagonist. Often, beginning writers will think this automatically makes the antagonist the villain, but this isn’t always the case. The term “villain” implies evil, and an antagonist doesn’t have to be evil. Think of romantic comedies. While there are sometimes “bad” characters, the antagonist is often the love interest. In Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth Bennett tries to shame Darcy for insulting her when they first met, but he is trying to prove his worth to her. That makes him the antagonist, but not the villain. In The Wizard of Oz, Dorothy wants to go home. The Wizard refuses to help her unless she defeats the Wicked Witch. This makes the Wizard the antagonist, even if the Wicked Witch is the villain. In Wreck-it Ralph, Ralph wants to get his medal but Vanellope needs it to race. She might be annoying, but King Candy is the evil force in the story, not Vanellope. A “villain” can be an antagonistic force, but that doesn’t always mean the villain is the antagonist. The antagonist’s goal conflicts with the protagonist’s goal, but this doesn’t make her or him a bad person.
A wonderful film to explore when considering these major dramatic functions is the Disney animated film Frozen. The two main characters in the film, sisters Anna and Elsa, are both extremely flawed human beings who are products of a rather unhealthy upbringing. Due to her uncontrollable powers, Elsa has been told to oppress her feelings and hide from her emotions. Instead of helping, however, Elsa’s fear has grown immensely, making her powers seem all the more unmanageable as a result. Anna, on the other hand, has been sequestered away from any other child her age, and has grown a bit careless as a result. She’s overly trusting and acts irrationally on multiple occasions, including accepting a marriage proposal from a man she just met. Neither of these characters can be called completely good or completely evil, so choosing a “hero” and a “villain” isn’t as easy as it w
as in Disney movies of yesteryear (Aladdin = good, Jafar = bad, Belle = good, Gaston = bad, Rapunzel = good, Mother Gothel = bad, etc.).
Even if we ignore the question of good versus evil, it’s still difficult to select a single protagonist for Frozen. Both sisters have wonderfully active and defined goals. Elsa wants to protect her sister from the power of her magic, and Anna wants her sister’s friendship back. In the end, they both win their goal at almost the same moment. So how can you tell who is the “protagonist” and who is the “antagonist”? Remember, the protagonist is the character whose actions most directly drive the plot. In this film, the plot is a sister journeying into the snow in order to make amends and save her city. Therefore, Anna is the protagonist, and Elsa is the antagonist. This gives the title of “villain” to another, more minor character, the two-faced Prince Hans.
Now we have a sense of who the protagonist and the antagonist are, we can figure out what the dramatic functions of the secondary characters. No character in a narrative should be there because the writer needed them to say a line or to fill in the background. All characters should have a solid and definable purpose for being in the story.
Since it’s such a great ensemble piece, let’s look at Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (or Philosopher’s Stone for non-US readers). We have established that Harry Potter is both protagonist and hero, but what about the other characters? Here’s a simple breakdown of several of the supporting characters of that first book.
Character: Ron Weasley
Dramatic Function: Ally, Emotional Support, Serves as a double for Harry since he is another “outsider” in the world of wizards, As Harry’s best friend, he also serves as a “confessional” character, allowing Harry to express himself to the readers via Ron
Character: Hermione Granger
Dramatic Function: Ally, Provides exposition and other important information the reader needs to know, If there is anything the reader needs to know, Hermione fills us in as she explains it to Harry.
Character: Albus Dumbledore
Dramatic Function: Another expositional character able to reveal the secrets that a mere student like Hermione would not logically know, serves as Mentor and a source for the most advanced magic (basically, JK Rowling says “I want this to happen, so Dumbledore can make it so and the reader will believe it”), he also tends to be the character who can analyze the story and express the theme to the reader.
Character: Neville Longbottom
Dramatic Function: Comic relief, serves as another “double” for Harry, he also shows that Harry is not the worst person there. Since the reader identifies with Harry, we don’t want to feel like the loser of the class, and so we are able to laugh at Neville’s misfortunes in order to feel better about our own point of identification
Character: Peeves the Poltergeist
Dramatic Function: Another source of comic relief, serves as a world building tool to help set up the rules of the afterlife in this world, in a few select chapters, he is the justification for why certain things happen (Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville running from Filch because Peeves alerted him, for example), he also served as the red herring in the first book as many students believed he let in the troll and not Quirrell.
Character: Severus Snape
Dramatic Function: The major red herring and false villain in this book, because of his obvious dislike for Harry and his appearance, he is assumed to be the evil force chasing the philosopher’s/sorcerer’s stone.
Character: Draco Malfoy
Dramatic Function: Antagonist (Harry’s role involves finding validation in this new wizarding world, and Malfoy’s goal of destroying him most directly conflicts with that goal), he also serves as a foil to Harry and a model example of the “typical” Slytherin student.
Character: Quirinus Quirrell
Dramatic Function: As an extension of Voldemort, this is the true villain of the narrative. He is the driving force behind all the dastardly deeds going on at Hogwarts. His goal of finding the philosopher’s stone drives the main mystery of the story and provides multiple obstacles to Harry’s goal of blending in and being accepted by the wizarding world.
There are many more characters in the book, but the above examples should be enough to show you that each character has a very specific purpose in the plot. None of them are just walking around talking because JK Rowling thought they were funny or wanted to give a friend a cameo. They all have a dramatic function.
Let’s Go Back To The Bloke That Really Matters
Now that we understand how characters function in a text, let’s go back to the protagonist for a bit. As stated above, the protagonist is the character whose primary goal drives the main storyline. But what if you are working with a protagonist whose goal isn’t well-defined? What if your story features a character who is more reactive than active?
The argument on whether or not this is acceptable is still out for debate. For every author or analyst who claims you must have an active protagonist, there are at least two examples of successful stories where the protagonist is reactive. The popular “Hero’s Journey” structure even includes a section of the journey where the protagonist is supposed to “deny the call”, passively resisting the goal instead of fighting to win it. The Hero’s Journey is one of the most popular structures of epic storytelling, so is it “wrong” to ask a protagonist to be reactive, if only for a short period? Again, the jury is out, but I argue that it’s always best to aim for an active protagonist.
Twilight is a great example of why I think an active protagonist is best. Whether you like the series or not, both the movies and the books demonstrate the positive and the negative sides to having a reactive or active protagonist. In many ways, this reactive versus active issue might actually explain why you are or are not a fan.
In the first book in the series, Bella doesn’t really have an active goal. She is reacting to Edward more than fighting to win any kind of goal (unless you want to argue her goal is to “understand” him, which isn’t an active verb and therefore, not an active goal). This is a very successful narrative financially, especially after its adaptation into a successful box office film series, but it also polarized audiences. At the height of its success, people either loved it or hated it. It was rare to find anyone who rested somewhere in between when the films first hit theaters. Audiences who loved it fell for the dramatic elements of the film, emotionally identifying with Bella’s position as a rather lackluster protagonist who attracts the attention of a mysterious and gorgeous stranger. Audiences who hated it despised that same drama, thinking it was creepy for a hundred-year-old man to become fascinated by a young and rather boring high school girl. So who was right?
The answer lies in the second book, New Moon. While some audiences still shunned the second book and film because of their dislike for Twilight, there was an overall stronger reception to this second story than the first. The characters and world were the same, so what changed? One simple thing: Bella became an active protagonist, taking charge of her fate instead of just sitting around and letting Edward stare at her. In Twilight, Bella spent most of the book reacting to Edward’s mysterious ways instead of trying to pursue him. In New Moon, however, Bella has an active goal. Edward has left her, and she wants him back. She is willing to do anything to get him. When she discovers an ability to see his face any time she comes close to death, she commits a series of death-defying stunts to summon him. This included everything from riding a motorcycle too fast to jumping off a mountain. Now that’s being an active protagonist.
As mentioned before, readers and viewers want to experience a vicarious adventure when they disappear into the worlds we create. If the character we identify with doesn’t actively pursue a goal, then what do we, as readers or viewers, gain as a result of experiencing their journey with them? I’m not saying that Bella’s actions in the first book were “wrong,” but I want the readers of my books and the viewers of my films to gain something from their time with my na
rrative. Therefore, I believe if authors want to be successful, it’s best to focus on active goals.
Goals Versus Needs
Many beginning writers confuse a goal with a need, and it’s easy to understand why. There are other character books out there that examine these two concepts much deeper than I will here, so if you still find yourself confused after reading this section, I recommend you spend more time exploring these two terms.
A goal (sometimes called a character’s “want”) is something a character fights for that has a very obvious outcome. You should always be able to point a camera at the outcome of a goal, even if you aren’t writing a film. In Wreck It Ralph, Ralph wants a medal that will prove he’s a hero. In The Dark Tower, Roland wants to keep the Tower from crumbling. In Wizard of Oz, Dorothy wants to get home. In The Legend of Zelda, Link wants to save Zelda. In Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog, Dr. Horrible wants to be admitted to the Evil League of Evil. In Gone Girl, Nick wants to get his wife back. These are all visual goals for which you could take a picture of the outcome. They are tangible and real.
Most importantly, however, there is no question whether or not the protagonist has won or lost their goal at the end. When your reader or viewer comes to the end of your story, they should know that the character’s journey is officially over. If a character just wants to “be happy,” then how will the reader know if he or she has won that goal? We can all be happy for a moment, but unhappy the next. So we want to ask ourselves what does it mean for this particular character to be happy? Will it be the moment they get married? Or win the Quidditch Cup? Or kill the villain? Picking these more concrete goals makes it really clear when the character’s story is over.
Crafting the Character Arc Page 2
