Katherine Cowley

#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.

Writing Exercises - Jane Austen Writing Lessons

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?

#16: Make Your Characters Multifaceted

September 30, 2020/0 Comments/in Jane Austen Writing Lessons /by Katherine Cowley

The only time when Mr. Darcy is a flat character is when he is a life-sized cardboard cutout in the film Austenland.

Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth Bennet, and all of Jane Austen’s other main characters are three-dimensional—they feel as if they come to life off of the page.

This is one of those moments that makes me love the film Austenland: in rage, a boyfriend walks out, punching the cardboard Mr. Darcy, which Jane Hayes then fixes. And kisses.

A flat character is simple, uncomplicated, does not change or develop, and is often uninteresting.

A round character, also known as a three-dimensional character, feels like a fully developed real person, with nuance and complexity, and the ability to experience real change and development over the course of a story.

A round or three-dimensional character is what I like to call multifaceted: she has multiple sides, aspects, or features, that fit together to create a character. Yet this is not just a collection of multiple elements squished together: like the facets or sides of a gemstone, these elements have been carefully crafted, cut, and polished.

Let’s look at some of the basic features and characteristics of our two main characters from Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy:

Elizabeth Bennet:

Plays the pianoforte
Likes reading
Likes walking
Good at dancing
Clever
Witty
Judgmental
Idealist
Has many friends

Mr. Darcy:

Rich
Good at letter-writing
Caring brother
Loyal friend
Likes reading
Expects much of others
Well-spoken
Proud
Unforgiving

These attributes, interests, skills, and personality traits are inherently interesting in combination, but in themselves they are not what make Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy complex, multifaceted characters.

You could assign a character dozens of attributes and personality traits, and spends months writing countless pages of the character’s backstory and history, and yet still not create a character that feels alive.

Then how do you create a multifaceted character?

In the craft book Story: Style, Structure, Substance, and the Principles of Screenwriting, screenwriter Robert McKee makes the argument that the core component in a round or three-dimensional character is “inner contradiction.”

As McKee writes, “Dimension means contradiction.” And dimensions are what fascinate an audience, riveting us to characters as we attempt to understand their complexities.

Real people are filled with contradictions, and at its heart, a powerful story is about a character wrestling with their inner contradictions and the world.

Here are five of the main types of contradictions that can create a multifaceted character:

Contradictions between a character’s wants and needs
Contradictions between the character’s inner self and the world in which they live
Contradictions between how the character interacts with some characters versus with other characters
Contradictions between the simultaneously-held ideals of a character
Contradictions between a character’s ideals and how they live

I’ve written a number of flash fiction stories—all less than 1000 words—where the main characters feel multi-dimensional. In one of these stories, you really only learn two things about the character: 1. She absolutely loves music and listening to vocal performances; 2. She applied multiple times to vocal performance degrees in college and was rejected each time, and has since given up on singing. Her love of music but her rejection of her own musical self as inadequate creates a contradiction within herself, which sets the stage for the story.

What contradictions has Jane Austen created in Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy?

A Few of Elizabeth Bennet’s Contradictions:

Critical of Mr. Darcy’s pride but holds fast to her own.
Wants to avoid Mr. Darcy, yet finds herself drawn to him.
Only wants to marry if it is for love, yet she is pressured by her society and mother to accept any eligible match.
Instantly trusts Mr. Wickham and accepts his story, yet distrusts and judges whatever Mr. Darcy says.
Wittily expresses views that are not always her own.

A Few of Mr. Darcy’s Contradictions:

Prideful yet kindhearted and generous.
Despises spending time with people he does not know, yet willingly goes to events with Mr. Bingley because he values their friendship.
Feels the need to save Mr. Bingley from a connection to the Bennet family, but unwilling to do the same for himself.
Expects Elizabeth to see and accept his virtues, yet says hurtful things to her.

Sometimes I consciously plan a character’s contradictions, yet often, these contradictions develop as I write. Either way, as I enter the revision process, I refine these facets and how they fit together: this is the cutting and polishing of a gemstone.

A few additional notes on characters:

The core characters should be the most multifaceted characters in a story. Any and all characters can have contradictions, yet if those of a minor character more compelling than those of the main characters, readers can lose interest in the main characters.
Supporting characters can help reveal the different facets of a main character. Robert McKee writes, “In essence, the protagonist creates the rest of the cast. All other characters are in a story first and foremost because of the relationship they strike to the protagonist and the way each helps to delineate the dimensions of the protagonist’s complex nature.”

Multifaceted characters are complex and three-dimensional. After all, it is our complexities that make us human, and it is unravelling and dealing with these complexities that makes a story.

Exercise 1: Choose one of the following characteristics, attributes, or skills that could belong to a character:

Charitable
Athletic
Loves to read
Hates traveling
Good at cooking
Prone to procrastination

Create a contradiction that could relate to this characteristic or attribute. It could be aspects of this characteristic, how a character applies it in some situations but not other, how it combines or conflicts with another characteristic, or a contradiction between this characteristic and society.

Exercise 2: Choose one of your favorite characters from literature. What are some of their contradictions? If you’d like, share in the comments below.

Exercise 3:

Option 1: Brainstorm a new character that you might use in a story. First, write a brief physical description, assign them several personality traits, give them interests, decide where they live/their occupation, etc., and choose a few key moments from their history/past. Now decide on one or two key contradictions that can make them come alive.

Option 2: For a story that you’ve already written, figure out what the key contradictions are for each of your main characters.

#15: Make Your Character Need Something

September 23, 2020/0 Comments/in Jane Austen Writing Lessons /by Katherine Cowley

In the very first Jane Austen Writing Lesson, I talked about how a character must want something. This drives the forward movement of the novel.

Yet in addition to wants, characters also have needs.

In the novel Emma, Emma Woodhouse wants to be a matchmaker, and she wants to exert her control on the community. This is her conscious desire.

Yet Emma is coming from a place of loss—she has lost her dear governess to marriage, previously, she lost her mother to death and her older sister to marriage, and now she is alone, with a perpetually-ill father.

What Emma really needs is friendship and connection. Despite being one of the richest members of her community, she desperately needs to feel like she is important and of value.

All characters have conscious wants and needs, things they are actively seeking for. But they also have underlying wants and needs, which are often subconscious. They may not be aware of these needs, but they still drive the character’s behavior.

Gif of Harriet Smith and Emma Woodhouse from the 2020 film Emma.

Early in the novel, Emma befriends Harriet Smith and immediately plans a match for her: to Mr. Elton.

But then Mr. Martin, a farmer, proposes to Harriet.

On the surface level, if Harriet accepts Mr. Martin’s proposal, Emma fails at getting what she wants: her matchmaking will have gone to naught.

But it is not just Emma’s overlying want that is threatened, but also her underlying needs, and we see this play out in the scene in which Emma, very manipulatively, encourages Harriet to refuse Mr. Martin’s proposal. When Harriet begins to come to the conclusion that she should reject Mr. Martin, Emma uses all her rhetorical powers to reinforce it.

At last, with some hesitation, Harriet said—

“Miss Woodhouse, as you will not give me your opinion, I must do as well as I can by myself; and I have now quite determined, and really almost made up my mind—to refuse Mr. Martin. Do you think I am right?”

“Perfectly, perfectly right, my dearest Harriet; you are doing just what you ought. While you were all in suspense I kept my feelings to myself, but now that you are so completely decided I have no hesitation in approving. Dear Harriet, I give myself joy of this. It would have grieved me to lose your acquaintance, which must have been the consequence of your marrying Mr. Martin. While you were in the smallest degree wavering, I said nothing about it, because I would not influence; but it would have been the loss of a friend to me. I could not have visited Mrs. Robert Martin, of Abbey-Mill Farm. Now I am secure of you for ever.”

Harriet had not surmised her own danger, but the idea of it struck her forcibly.

Emma’s need for friendship, connection, and self-importance drive this scene as much as her desire to be matchmaker.

As you construct characters, make sure they want something, but also make sure that they have deeper, underlying needs.

One way to think about character needs is through the lens of psychology. Abraham Maslow wrote about a hierarchy of needs, and any of these intrinsic human needs can be a need for a story character.

Near the bottom of his pyramid are needs for basic survival—food, water, sleep, shelter, safety, and financial security. Further up the pyramid are needs related to love and belonging, whether that’s a sense of connection or friendship, true intimacy or family, or being a true part of community. Then Maslow talks about esteem—this could be respect from others, self-respect and self-esteem, public recognition for one’s accomplishments, or a feeling of strength and wholeness. At the top of the pyramid is self-actualization—becoming one’s fullest self and achieving one’s potential.

Image by Androidmarsexpress, Creative Commons license

Typically, you want to choose one or two overarching needs which drive your character. These needs may conscious or subconscious, or a need may start as subconscious and the character may become aware of it throughout the story.

Other smaller wants and needs may be manifest in individual scenes and interactions with other characters, but if your main character has a core want and a core need, then this will shape the overall arc of the story, both in terms of their external journey and their internal journey.

Exercise 1: Teresa wants to win this year’s chili cook-off. This is her driving want throughout a story. But what does she need? Choose one of the needs from Maslow’s hierarchy. Is she trying to get recognition—and if so, why? Does she need acceptance, friendship, love? Will the prize money help her pay her rent?

Once you have chosen a need, write a short scene—probably 2 or 3 paragraphs—in which both Teresa’s want and need inform her actions, dialogue, and thoughts. This scene could be when she signs up for the chili cook-off, when she’s buying ingredients, as she’s cooking, during the judging—any scene, because both her want and her need should subtly inform her.

(Note: self-actualization is a really difficult need to write, and most of the time, we don’t hit the self-actualization stage unless all of our other needs have been met, so it’s often better to choose a different need for our characters.)

Exercise 2: Choose one of your favorite books or films. What is the main character’s driving want in the story? What is the main character’s driving need in the story? How do the want and the need interact with each other—does the quest for one ever interfere with the quest for the other? Does the want or the need shift over time? If you would like, in the comments share the title of the story, and the character’s want and need.

Exercise 3: Take a scene that you have written and analyze it for character wants and needs. Use one color to highlight lines or phrases that relate to the character’s want(s), and another color to highlight lines or phrases that relate to the character’s need(s). Some lines may be highlighted by both colors. How could you revise the scene with wants and needs in mind?

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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The only time when Mr. Darcy is a flat character is when he is a life-sized cardboard cutout in the film Austenland.

Here are five of the main types of contradictions that can create a multifaceted character:

What contradictions has Jane Austen created in Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy?

A few additional notes on characters:

Multifaceted characters are complex and three-dimensional. After all, it is our complexities that make us human, and it is unravelling and dealing with these complexities that makes a story.

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