I’m not sure what put thoughts of this into my head, but there’s one lesson about character-creation that I think is often misinterpreted. The lesson is that every character has rational (to them) reasons for what they do, and believe that what they’re doing is justified; even characters who are Nazis, assassins or torturers don’t go around rejoicing that they’re evil. That makes sense. What doesn’t make sense is when writers take it a step further and assume that since everyone has a justification for their actions, everyone’s actions are sort of justified. An example: I read a fantasy novel almost 30 years ago in which everyone in the cast is a nice guy; even the villain, who’s mind-controlling people, is just a little misguided, and really means to do good for the realm and the king. Another story from the same period involved two alien races who have been at war for centuries—but in reality, both sides are good and honorable, they just have a few cultural misunderstandings to work out, and once they do that, everyone will live happily ever after. Now that I’ve written that, I realize that neither sounds that bad a concept. And they’re not bad concepts; misguided people and cultural differences certainly exist. But the trouble with these books was, they just made it seem too sugary. Everyone’s a nice person. Nobody’s a bad person, even if they might be doing bad things. Everyone just has to Understand and it can always be worked out. And that’s bunk. The truth is, some people aren’t good or nice; some people like to inflict pain on others, exploit others, assault others either physically or emotionally. I’m sure they all have rational reasons, but if their rationale is that nobody else’s pain matters to them … well, I’m not likely to feel much sympathy, no matter how much the author shows me of their innermost heart. Nor does it necessarily help to give them a determining incident, some tragic/horrifying moment that shaped the whole of their life. Even if it explains them, it doesn’t necessarily absolve them of anything, and if the writer assumes it does, I may lose interest (which is partly because the concept has been done to death; one of the things I loved about the movie Black Widow is that it rejects the idea that either serial killer Teresa Russell or obsessive pursuer Debra Winger have a neat, rational reason for what they do). A good How To Do It example is Kirk Douglas’ SOB character in Detective Story. His character, a cop, sees his abusive, rotten father’s face in every crook he busts; when he discovers his wife once had an abortion (this being back when it was a crime) he freaks out and rejects her then starts to realize that he’s become the same bastard he’s been fighting all his life (“All my life, my father’s been inside me, laughing … or maybe crying.”). The end result is someone who’s repellent, sympathetic and tragic, all in one. A different example, from Aquaman a few years ago, has Aquaman discover his arch-foe, Black Manta, has been mentally ill his entire life. Aquaman cures him, and as they head in for an encounter with the villain of the story arc, Black Manta suddenly shoots him in the back. He admits that he’s now completely sane “but I’m still a murderous son of a bitch!” Hmph. I have a feeling that if I were more awake, this would be a pretty rambling post … but I’m tired, so I’ll leave it as is.
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