Cardboard Characters Impede Plot
Of all the aspects of fiction writing, character creation is the cornerstone of any story. It allows for a focused exploration within the narrative landscape, lends meaning to big ideas and philosophical messages, and is the linchpin of a story’s emotional depth. Without characters – truly realistic ones – why should anyone care what happens?
Honing characters that connect deeply with readers is a skill not to be overlooked by the budding author. The connections that make the reader romanticise, fantasise, admire, pity, outrage or detest and have them talking about which character they’d opt to be, were they given the choice. From Harry Potter fans who declare which house they belong to in their social media, to those who declare their preferred house from Game of Thrones, everyone can agree that from the compelling to the contemptible, hero or villain, characters rule.
Both instances denote a deep connection between reader and character. Each of the houses in these stories represents the characteristics of the people. Readers identify with their different values. Those who fancy themselves as people with principal and the moral high ground will go with Gryffindor and those who think themselves badass or edgy will choose Slytherin. Same goes for Thrones with Stark Vs Lannister – or even House Bolton for the real freaks out there. It is through the characters that these principals are laid out. Without carefully moulded characters, those houses would be empty shells devoid of purpose.
Stirring these ardent emotions about people who do not actually exist requires a certain level of skill. Of insight. Characters in a story are the eyes, ears and instincts of the reader. The key to unlocking the art of well-sculpted characters starts with the first simple rule: write with the intent to avoid creating cardboard cut-outs.
Now, I say write with the intent because intent leads to success, eventually. If you do not place enough onus on the intent to write with a desired outcome, then you won’t have enough motivation to master it, and your efforts will be half-baked at best, leaving you with personalities who lack depth and authenticity. The flimsier and more superficial your characters are, the quicker you will run out of writing road. The tarmac of your path towards completion will run out like a poorly budgeted infrastructure project.
Characters create plot. It might sound cliché; hackneyed – whatever – but it’s true. I find I cannot iterate this enough with my writers that a story isn’t about a series of events haphazardly strung together, but a chain reaction driven by the decisions and reactions of your leading characters who find themselves impeded by unforeseen external events.
To arrive at that point, you first need to know your characters inside-out. That’s how you achieve the connections you crave with your readers. Everyone thinks that researching a book is about fact-checking places, dates, technology, etc., but that research begins with fact-checking your character. Where do they come from? How did their upbringing, environment and life experiences mould their world view and deliver them to the starting point of the narrative? This is the bedrock of your story. If you don’t first research your characters, then you’re in danger of rendering everything else as insignificant.
The cardboard character is devoid of complexity and individuality - devoid of intrigue. It is an inevitable creature when the writer avoids properly developing them prior to writing the story. More so in novels than short stories, for the length of a novel requires a much deeper mining of details and characteristics. More than just a name and a hair colour plodding through the motions of contrived events. And it’s all too easy to set out on the page like this to start with. Many assume that to write with a rough idea will result in their personality traits surfacing along the way. While this may be true to some degree, by allowing events to dictate personality, you can end up with inconsistent behaviour that reacts rather randomly and without reason. It can also contribute to a lack of understanding in the reader as to why the events are important to the character, and thus, to them. This can substantially distance readers and derail the narrative if the author also does not understand the inner mechanics of their principal cast. That lack of authenticity saturates every element of the story. If the reader doesn’t believe in the character, they won’t have faith in the character’s decision making, and they will howl at the ridiculousness of their ensuing actions. And this all ties in with plot logic, too.
When you throw those big plot events at the character, if you know them well enough prior to starting the story, you'll find those events serve to challenge the resolve of their moral, or immoral, compass and not haphazardly discover it with no direction to consequently nurture it. The resolve of a character is what makes them succeed where no other has or will. If you don't know who they are, you won't know what battles they will die fighting for and which ones they will strategically step back from.
That’s not the only reason to breathe life into each character. Making them memorable, relatable and interesting enables the reader to either want to be them or have them as a best friend. Or maybe, in the instance of the more nefarious characters, they want to beat them (as in: win, not assault them, though they might want to do that, too). Whichever, if your characters stir this kind of reaction in your audience, it’s an indication that you have immersed them in the character’s plight and that you have a solid understanding of them.
Great fiction is built on the foundation of well-developed characters. No one can argue against that. So, I emphasise the importance of investing time in profiling your main characters. This process goes beyond superficial details; it involves unravelling the layers that make your characters human. Explore their past, delve into their fears and aspirations, and understand the motivations that drive them. The more intimately you know your characters, the richer your narrative becomes.
Whichever way you’ve start out in writing fiction – dived directly into writing the book you’ve dreamed about for years, or dabbled in the short form, maybe taken a class and tried out some exercises – I’ll bet you embarked on those projects with little idea of your main character’s deeper attributes. I remember in my early days, a writing exercise in a well-reputed book where it asked the writer to convey a character through the items they might find in a room in the character’s house. It’s a popular learning tactic and not a bad idea on the face of it – it’s actually a good way to exercise both descriptive skills and characterisation. However, as a newbie writer, I just launched into the exercise with no clue as to whom I was writing about. And I soon got stuck. Or, rather, when I presented my piece to my local writing group to see if I’d succeeded in the exercise, it became clear that, outside of how she looked and what she did for work, I didn’t know who she was. I didn’t know how she felt about things. I didn’t have any grasp on her world view, which made depicting her through selected items a rather wasted exercise. It didn’t tell me that, to get the best out of it, it would be prudent to first do some research into the person I was attempting to convey. I didn’t know who my character was, therefore I failed in communicating them to the reader.
Imagine your characters as old friends – or old enemies. The more time you spend with them, the better you understand their quirks, reactions and hidden facets. It’s not just about physical attributes or what they do for a job; it’s about understanding their psychological makeup. What are their fears? What keeps them awake at night? What are their deepest desires?
Once you’ve invested the time in character profiling, a fascinating phenomenon occurs – your characters start to guide the plot. Well-developed characters have a tendency to dictate the direction of the narrative. Their actions, reactions, and decisions become intrinsic to the plot, leading to a more organic and engaging story.
How about those stories where character takes a back seat and plot reigns supreme? Some people are less bothered about the cast and more invested in the big, external events, or maybe even the world-building. Not everyone wants to write character-driven plots.
Allowing characters to lead the way doesn’t mean relinquishing the quality or intensity of the plot. Nor does it make high concept thrillers, high fantasy or Sci-fi-centric stories take a back seat. Instead, it’s a collaborative effort where the characters’ personalities and motivations support the high octane events and shape the narrative arc. The writer must know their characters inside-out to decide how to balance that knowledge within the confines of their genre. The genre will determine which elements will dominate the narrative style, but just because big, external elements might feature in the foreground, it doesn’t mean the writer neglected to thoroughly research their leading characters. It simply means they know well enough what balance serves the story best.
This approach to character not only makes the writing process more fluid and, ultimately, fluid means easier, which can surely only be interpreted as enjoyable. It also results in a story that feels authentic and immersive.
The other advantage of thoroughly researching your characters and relinquishing some control to them is that, in taking on a life of their own, they guide the plot in unexpected and exciting ways. And this makes the process exciting for the writer. Yes, you can have a few big events preconceived, of course, but much of the fun in writing is finding out how your character will lead you to those destinations. Knowing where they came from, what life experiences led them to the present story time, arms you with story and plot twists you can drop in at key moments.
I highly recommend embracing the journey of character exploration. Unearth the layers, embrace the nuances, and let your characters have some headroom. In doing so, you’ll not only elevate your storytelling but also create a world that readers will be eager to revisit time and time again.
What’s the biggest sticking point with your characters? What strategies have you employed to breathe life into them?
Next time: How to characterise your world, and how it plays its role in creating plot.
