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One of the best ways to learn to write well is to learn from the examples of great writers. Jane Austen Writing Lessons is a series of blog posts about creative writing principles from plot structure to character development to dialogue. This blog was selected by “The Write Life” as one of the 100 Best Websites for Writers in 2021.
New Jane Austen Writing Lessons will be posted 2 times a month. Sign up for the newsletter to get a notification in your inbox anytime there’s a new lesson. Links to the previous lessons can be found below.
Each lesson looks to Jane Austen’s novels and her other works for examples of excellent writing. Quotes from her six published novels and an analysis of her craft–and how we can apply it to our own writing–is included in each lesson.
Each lesson includes 2-3 writing exercises that will help you practice the creative writing principle and apply it to your own writing.
#1: Make Your Character Want Something
#2: Combine Multiple Elements to Create an Engaging Premise
#3: Use an Inciting Incident to Set the Plot in Motion
#4: Create an External Journey for your Character
#5: Make Things Hard for Your Character
#6: Use a Character Arc to Make Your Character Change and Grow
#7: Create Multiple Relationship Arcs to Show Your Character’s Journey in Relation to Those Around Them
#8: Use Setting to Influence Plot and Character
#9: Use Dialogue to Create Dynamic Interactions Between Characters
#10: Use the Reader-Writer Contract to Create a Satisfying Resolution for Your Readers
#1: Make Your Character Want Something
#5: Make Things Hard for Your Character
#6: Use a Character Arc to Make Your Character Change and Grow
#15: Make Your Character Need Something
#16: Make Your Characters Multifaceted
#17: Make Your Characters Active
#18: Use Passive Characters Effectively
#19: Make Your Characters Sympathetic
#20: Use Unsympathetic Characters Effectively
#21: Reveal Characters Through Tension
#22: Reveal Characters Through Dialogue
#23: Reveal Characters Through Other People’s Perceptions of Them
#24: Introduce Layered Characters to Create Deeper or Changed Meaning Later
#44: Avoid Writing Groups of Characters as Monoliths
#46: How to Give an Objectionable Perspective to a Protagonist
#61: How to Convey Emotion: Planting Clues to What Characters Feel
#25: Use Antagonists and Villains to Interfere
#26: Give Antagonists Understandable Motives (Part 1)
#27: Give Antagonists Understandable Motives (Part 2)
#28: Give Antagonists Redemptive Qualities
#29: Use Antagonists as Character Foils
#45: How to Write Perspectives You Don’t Agree With in Fiction (And How to Write Objectionable Perspectives)
#47: Have Characters Justify Their Behavior
#3: Use an Inciting Incident to Set the Plot in Motion
#4: Create an External Journey for your Character
#8: Use Setting to Influence Plot and Character
#10: Use the Reader-Writer Contract to Create a Satisfying Resolution for Your Readers
#11: Use Exposition to Set the Stage
#12: Start In Medias Res to Jump into the Story
#13: Start the Story Early (if Necessary)
#14: Incorporate Backstory Strategically
#25: Use Antagonists and Villains to Interfere
#31: Use a Distinctive Setting for Major Plot Turns
#40: Use Distractions, Interruptions, and Red Herrings
#41: Use Foreshadowing
#42: Use Large Discoveries and Plot Twists
#43: Use Discovery to Create Satisfying Resolutions and Denouements
#8: Use Setting to Influence Plot and Character
#30: Introduce the Setting through Description
#31: Use a Distinctive Setting for Major Plot Turns
#32: Use Setting to Complement or Contrast Emotion
#33: Use Familiar and Invisible Settings
#34: Use Unfamiliar Settings
#35: Establish the Character of a Setting
#36: Use the Setting as a Character
#3: Use an Inciting Incident to Set the Plot in Motion
#11: Use Exposition to Set the Stage
#12: Start In Medias Res to Jump into the Story
#13: Start the Story Early (if Necessary)
#14: Incorporate Backstory Strategically
#21: Reveal Characters Through Tension
#22: Reveal Characters Through Dialogue
#23: Reveal Characters Through Other People’s Perceptions of Them
#24: Introduce Layered Characters to Create Deeper or Changed Meaning Later
#37: Give Your Characters Something to Discover
#38: Establish an Information Gap
#9: Use Dialogue to Create Dynamic Interactions Between Characters
#22: Reveal Characters Through Dialogue
#49: When to Use Dialogue Tags (and How)
#50: Use Dialogue Tags for Rhythm and Cadence
#51: Dialogue as Communication and Exposition
#52: Different Responses to Dialogue
#53: Creating Space for Writing
#54: When to Summarize Dialogue
#55: Dialogue as a Weapon (Manipulative Dialogue)
#56: Times and Seasons of Creativity
#57: Character Dialogue as Persuasion
#58: Ineffective Dialogue and Persuasion
#59: Internal Dialogue (Dialogue for One Person/Character)
#37: Give Your Characters Something to Discover
#38: Establish an Information Gap
#39: Create a Progression of Knowledge Discovery
#40: Use Distractions, Interruptions, and Red Herrings
#41: Use Foreshadowing
#42: Use Large Discoveries and Plot Twists
#43: Use Discovery to Create Satisfying Resolutions and Denouements
#61: How to Convey Emotion: Planting Clues to What Characters Feel
#62: Conveying Emotion Through Internal Thoughts and Free Indirect Speech
#63: Four More Internal Emotion Techniques
#64: The Size or Degree of Character Emotions
#65: Different Character Approaches to Dealing with and Expressing Emotion
#66: Evoking Emotions Through Objective Correlative
#67: Creating an Emotional Map: Making Interconnected Emotions
Intro: Introduction to Jane Austen Writing Lessons
#1: Make Your Character Want Something
#2: Combine Multiple Elements to Create an Engaging Premise
#3: Use an Inciting Incident to Set the Plot in Motion
#4: Create an External Journey for your Character
#5: Make Things Hard for Your Character
#6: Use a Character Arc to Make Your Character Change and Grow
#7: Create Multiple Relationship Arcs to Show Your Character’s Journey in Relation to Those Around Them
#8: Use Setting to Influence Plot and Character
#9: Use Dialogue to Create Dynamic Interactions Between Characters
#10: Use the Reader-Writer Contract to Create a Satisfying Resolution for Your Readers
#11: Use Exposition to Set the Stage
#12: Start In Medias Res to Jump into the Story
#13: Start the Story Early (if Necessary)
#14: Incorporate Backstory Strategically
#15: Make Your Character Need Something
#16: Make Your Characters Multifaceted
#17: Make Your Characters Active
#18: Use Passive Characters Effectively
#19: Make Your Characters Sympathetic
#20: Use Unsympathetic Characters Effectively
#21: Reveal Characters Through Tension
#22: Reveal Characters Through Dialogue
#23: Reveal Characters Through Other People’s Perceptions of Them
#24: Introduce Layered Characters to Create Deeper or Changed Meaning Later
#25: Use Antagonists and Villains to Interfere
#26: Give Antagonists Understandable Motives (Part 1)
#27: Give Antagonists Understandable Motives (Part 2)
#28: Give Antagonists Redemptive Qualities
#29: Use Antagonists as Character Foils
#30: Introduce the Setting through Description
#31: Use a Distinctive Setting for Major Plot Turns
#32: Use Setting to Complement or Contrast Emotion
#33: Use Familiar and Invisible Settings
#34: Use Unfamiliar Settings
#35: Establish the Character of a Setting
#36: Use the Setting as a Character
#37: Give Your Characters Something to Discover
#38: Establish an Information Gap
#39: Create a Progression of Knowledge Discovery
#40: Use Distractions, Interruptions, and Red Herrings
#41: Use Foreshadowing
#42: Use Large Discoveries and Plot Twists
#43: Use Discovery to Create Satisfying Resolutions and Denouements
#44: Avoid Writing Groups of Characters as Monoliths
#45: How to Write Perspectives You Don’t Agree With in Fiction (And How to Write Objectionable Perspectives)
#46: How to Give an Objectionable Perspective to a Protagonist
#47: Have Characters Justify Their Behavior
#48: Techniques for Writing About Holidays in Fiction
#49: When to Use Dialogue Tags (and How)
#50: Use Dialogue Tags for Rhythm and Cadence
#51: Dialogue as Communication and Exposition
#52: Different Responses to Dialogue
#53: Creating Space for Writing
#54: When to Summarize Dialogue
#55: Dialogue as a Weapon (Manipulative Dialogue)
#56: Times and Seasons of Creativity
#57: Character Dialogue as Persuasion
#58: Ineffective Dialogue and Persuasion
#59: Internal Dialogue (Dialogue for One Person/Character)
#60: Getting in the Mood for Writing
#61: How to Convey Emotion: Planting Clues to What Characters Feel
#62: Conveying Emotion Through Internal Thoughts and Free Indirect Speech
#63: Four More Internal Emotion Techniques
#64: The Size or Degree of Character Emotions
#65: Different Character Approaches to Dealing with and Expressing Emotion
#66: Evoking Emotions Through Objective Correlative
#67: Creating an Emotional Map: Making Interconnected Emotions
#68: Establishing Relationships and Character Connections
Jane Austen Writing Lessons was selected by The Write Life as one of the “100 Best Websites for Writers in 2021.” They wrote:
“[Jane Austen Writing Lessons] is filled with blog posts about creative writing that use Jane Austen’s novels and other related stories to share what good writing looks and sounds like. Whether you’re interested in plot structure or character development to dialogue, each Jane Austen writing lesson focuses on one principle of writing at a time.”
In addition to writing Jane Austen Writing Lessons, Katherine Cowley is the author of the novels The Secret Life of Miss Mary Bennet, The True Confessions of a London Spy, and The Lady’s Guide to Death and Deception. She teaches writing classes at Western Michigan University.
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The opening scene of dialogue in Sense and Sensibility belongs not to the main characters, but rather, to their relations. At the beginning of the novel, Mr. Henry Dashwood is dead, and his son, Mr. John Dashwood, has inherited everything; despite Henry’s desires, his second wife and their daughters get nothing from the property. Yet before his death, Henry made his son John promise to take care of his step-mother and three half-sisters.
After this exposition, which is provided by the narrator, the first dialogue of the novel is between John Dashwood and his wife, Fanny Dashwood:
“It was my father’s last request to me,” replied her husband, “that I should assist his widow and daughters.”
“He did not know what he was talking of, I dare say; ten to one but he was light-headed at the time. Had he been in his right senses, he could not have thought of such a thing as begging you to give away half your fortune from your own child.”
“He did not stipulate for any particular sum, my dear Fanny; he only requested me, in general terms, to assist them, and make their situation more comfortable than it was in his power to do. Perhaps it would have been as well if he had left it wholly to myself. He could hardly suppose I should neglect them. But as he required the promise, I could not do less than give it: at least I thought so at the time. The promise, therefore, was given, and must be performed. Something must be done for them whenever they leave Norland and settle in a new home.”
“Well, then, let something be done for them; but that something need not be three thousand pounds.”
From this dialogue, we can already paint a picture of who John and Fanny are, in much more vivid terms than pages of description would provide. John feels familial obligation, and Fanny does not want him to fulfill this obligation to the extent he has planned, which we assume is for selfish reasons.
Last week, I talked about using moments of tension to reveal characters to the reader. Effective dialogue is another powerful way to quickly reveal characters to the reader.
While John had planned to give 3000 pounds to his sisters—1000 apiece—he proposes that he cut it in half, giving each of them 500 pounds. And the conversation continues:
“Oh! beyond anything great! What brother on earth would do half so much for his sisters, even if really his sisters! And as it is—only half blood!—But you have such a generous spirit!”
“I would not wish to do any thing mean,” he replied. “One had rather, on such occasions, do too much than too little. No one, at least, can think I have not done enough for them: even themselves, they can hardly expect more.”
“There is no knowing what they may expect,” said the lady, “but we are not to think of their expectations: the question is, what you can afford to do.”
Fanny is skilled at knowing how to maneuver her husband: she praises him for his generosity, and then claims that this is way beyond what anyone would do. She then shifts the conversation to their needs, and ultimately, she will appeal again to the future, hypothetical needs of their young son.
Jane Austen truly has some of the best dialogue of any writer. I could probably write an entire book about how Jane Austen employs dialogue throughout her novels. (Please don’t challenge me to do so—I may not be able to resist the temptation!) In a previous post, I addressed some initial ways that Jane Austen creates dynamic character interactions through dialogue. This post takes it one step further, looking at how dialogue reveals character.
From analyzing Austen’s use of dialogue, I’ve distilled 4 questions that I like to ask myself as I write dialogue for my characters.
The writer Kurt Vonnegut famously said, “Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.”
Every character comes into a conversation with a different perspective, a different history and personality, and a different relationship with the subject matter. In turn, this creates a different goal. Even people who are close to each other and know each other well, like family members or close friends, come into a conversation with a different goal. Often, a conversational want will be related, in some way, to a character’s larger, overreaching wants and needs in the story.
In this scene in Sense and Sensibility, John wants to do his duty to his father, and he also wants to feel good about himself—he wants to feel morally justified. Fanny, on the other hand, desperately wants to keep all of the money they have just inherited. However, she also wants her husband to feel good about his decisions and comfortable with moral positioning, and she does not want to damage their relationship or come off as cruel and unfeeling.
Readers can judge characters’ relationships with each other through a passage of dialogue. This is because relationships always influence the tone of the dialogue, the flow, the approach, and the outcome.
Relationships will determine how open or closed a character is with their intentions. It will impact what they are comfortable saying. It will demonstrate what is at stake for a character.
Some characters, like Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice, have no compunction with asserting themselves and speaking their mind in front of a stranger in a position of power and authority, as Elizabeth does to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and this fact does much to reveal Elizabeth’s character.
When characters shift their behavior because of their relationships, or behave with deference or authority, respect or disdain, it once again is revelatory.
From just a few lines of dialogue, readers can typically determine much about character relationships and their history with each other.
In this opening passage in Sense and Sensibility, the dynamics of John and Fanny’s marriage are made clear, as are other relationships: the relationship between John and his father; the relationships between John, his stepmother, and his half-sisters; and the relationship (or lack of substantial relationship) Fanny has with any of these other characters.
The dynamics become more complication when it shifts from a dialogue between two characters and a dialogue between a larger number of characters. For instance, in a dialogue between four, five, or six characters, there is a web of relationships: individual relationships between each set of characters, and relationships between each individual character and the group as a whole, particularly is someone is an outsider or less established in the group.
Listening is a constant act of interpreting: interpreting someone’s words and gestures and expressions for meaning and purpose. This interpretation is influenced by a character’s relationships, current emotional state, background on the subject matter, and personality.
When a character interprets another character’s speech, they react both internally—they could impact their mood, their perspective, etc.—and externally, by what they say and do, both immediately and over time.
Throughout this passage, John listens to his wife intently, and he accepts her praise and flattery and justifications. He interprets anything she says favorably, as if she has said it with the best intent.
Before this scene, in the exposition, the narrator tells us of Mr. John Dashwood:
He was not an ill-disposed young man, unless to be rather cold-hearted, and rather selfish, is to be ill-disposed: but he was, in general, well respected; for he conducted himself with propriety in the discharge of his ordinary duties. Had he married a more amiable woman, he might have been made still more respectable than he was:–he might even have been made amiable himself; for he was very young when he was married, and very fond of his wife. But Mrs. John Dashwood was a strong caricature of himself;–more narrow-minded and selfish.
While the narrator has already explained John’s character, here we see it in action as he interprets Fanny’s words and then acts on them.
In the novel The Jane Austen Project, two time travelers, Rachel and Liam, journey to Jane Austen’s time in an attempt to recover an unpublished novel she has written. In first person, we experience the dialogue and Rachel’s interpretation of it:
I was here. We’d done it.
“Are you all right?” I asked again. Liam groaned but rolled over, sat up, and scanned our surroundings of field, birch, and hedgerow. The portal location had been chosen well; nobody was here.
“It’s dusk,” I explained. “That’s why it all looks like this.” He turned toward me, dark eyebrows arching in a question. “In case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t.” His words came slowly, voice soft. “But thanks.”
I looked at him sideways, trying to decide if he was being sarcastic, and hoped so. In our time together at the institute preparing for the mission, something about Liam had always eluded me. He was too reserved; you never knew about people like that.
At this point in the novel, she clearly does not know Liam very well, and does not know what to make of his words. And yet she must make an interpretation of them in order to continue acting and speaking.
Conversation is a constant act of not just speaking, but of analyzing and coming to conclusions. The conclusions that characters come to reveal who they are to the reader.
Words are tools of power: we use them to shift and impact reality. How much a character is willing to be influenced by other characters will depend not just on the relationship between characters, but also on character’s relationship to the subject matter.
John Dashwood already is selfish—he cares about money, which makes him more susceptible to persuasion—and he does not have a strong sense of loyalty to his mother and half-sisters.
Yet even though these things make him more inclined to be influenced, Fanny’s delivery is still an important aspect. If she had started with, “We shouldn’t give them anything,” John would have likely found it much less palatable than her bringing him their by degrees.
Fanny, on the other hand, is much less prone to influence in this situation. Her husband makes concession after concession, but she will not stop until she has reached her full goal.
Near the end of the chapter, Fanny says:
“Indeed, to say the truth, I am convinced within myself that your father had no idea of your giving them any money at all.”
She continues on in this manner, and manages to completely convince her husband:
“Upon my word,” said Mr. Dashwood, “I believe you are perfectly right. My father certainly could mean nothing more by his request to me than what you say. I clearly understand it now, and I will strictly fulfill my engagement by such acts of assistance and kindness to them as you have described.”
And thus, by this single conversation, the lives of Mrs. Dashwood, Elinor, Marianne, and Margaret, are forever, irrevocably changed.
Dialogue is a powerful tool to reveal characters. At any point in the narrative, dialogue will impact our view of characters. The first conversation in which we see a particular character is particularly powerful in its ability to form our initial snapshot of who the character is and the role she will play in the story.
Exercise 1: Read the following short dialogue passage between two (currently unnamed) characters.
“I think we should go with the chips and salsa. It’s easy, inexpensive, and can take care of a lot of people.”
“I think the fruit platter would be better. It’s a lot healthier, and it doesn’t cost that much more.”
“True, but people want something that’s a treat.”
“Strawberries are a treat.”
“Maybe we should just get both.”
Right now, the dialogue is bland, impersonal, and boring. It has no weight in a (hypothetical) story. But you can change that!
Rewrite the dialogue two times, each time taking a different approach in your decision-making:
Depending on how much time you have, you could set a timer and rewrite the dialogue in 5 to 10 minutes, or you could spend longer if you’d like. You can change anything about the dialogue, and if it’s useful, add description and action. Use this as a launching point and see what happens.
Exercise 2: Track your personal conversations for a day. Who do you speak to? How do your relationships impact your conversations? How do your conversational goals differ from one conversation to the next? How much are you influenced by your conversations, and how much do you influence others?
Exercise 3: What is one of your favorite lines of dialogue? This could be from a book, a short story, or a film. Now go to that scene and analyze the entire passage of dialogue. In particular, consider:
There are countless blog posts and books which give step-by-step guides on how to create a good first impression. In stories too, characters have first impressions of each other which can have a huge impact on their relationships and the plot (the original version that Jane Austen wrote of Pride and Prejudice was actually titled First Impressions.)
Yet another way to think about first impressions is the first impressions that characters leave on the reader. Whether a character is major or minor, whether they are introduced at the beginning of the book or near the end, our first impressions of characters begin the process of revealing them to us.
But how do you reveal character, and how, as a writer, do you make sure that you leave the right first impression on readers? (Unlike in meeting people in real life, in a novel the goal is not necessarily to leave the best first impression, but rather, a first impression that helps us understand the essence of someone’s character, and often foreshadows their journey or the role that they will play in the story.)
One of the fastest ways to truly know someone is to see what they do and how they act in moments of struggle or tension. It is these moments that often draw out or reveal true or fundamental character. (I remember receiving very similar dating advice—you want to make sure that you see the person you are dating in hard or challenging situations, not just good ones.)
In Northanger Abbey, the narrator introduces us to Catherine Morland in the first chapter, but the first time we see Catherine Morland in scene rather than summary is in Chapter 2.
Catherine has just arrived in Bath, where she is staying with her friends, Mr. and Mrs. Allen. They go to a public ball, and unfortunately, they do not know anyone. Mr. Allen immediately goes off on his own, leaving Catherine and Mrs. Allen to fend for themselves.
Gif from the 1987 film adaptation of Northanger Abbey
“How uncomfortable it is,” whispered Catherine, “not to have a single acquaintance here!”
“Yes, my dear,” replied Mrs. Allen with perfect serenity, “it is very uncomfortable indeed.”
“What shall we do?—The gentlemen and ladies at this table look as if they wondered why we came here—we seem forcing ourselves into their party.”
“Ay, so we do.—That is very disagreeable. I wish we had a large acquaintance here.”
“I wish we had any;–it would be somebody to go to.”
Jane Austen has efficiently and effectively revealed key elements of Mrs. Allen’s and Catherine’s characters.
First, Mrs. Allen:
Next, Catherine:
Later in the scene, near the end of the ball, Mr. Allen returns:
“Well, Miss Morland,” said [Mr. Allen], directly, “I hope you have had an agreeable ball.”
“Very agreeable indeed,” she replied, vainly endeavouring to hide a great yawn.
This brief exchange reveals more about Catherine:
She was looked at, however, and with some admiration; for, in her own hearing, two gentlemen pronounced her to be a pretty girl. Such words had their due effect; she immediately though the evening pleasanter than she had found it before—he humble vanity was contented—she felt more obliged to the two young men for this simple praise than a true quality heroine would have been for fifteen sonnets in celebration of her charms, and went to her chair in good humour with everybody, and perfectly satisfied with her share of attention.
This paragraph is brilliant, because Catherine begins this scene with struggle: she is stressed and worried, and yet this final paragraph shows that she is not one to be crushed.
Catherine is both naïve and optimistic, inexperienced and loveable. In just this short scene, Austen has managed to set up some of the core tensions that make Catherine a three-dimensional character whose story is worth following.
One of the biggest advantages of using a moment of tension or challenge to reveal character is that is demonstrates characters’ strengths and weaknesses, and it sets the stage for the tools and limitations that will accompany them on their journey. As characters are pushed and pulled by outside and inside forces, we see what they are really made of.
These scenes are effective not just for the first time we meet a character, but throughout the story. If you want to show a character’s change or growth, then do it in a scene that has tension or struggle.
Sometimes you may also want to intentionally write a character that has given of a false first impression to the reader, that disguises their true character (even while containing hints of it). In this case, have moments of tension later that reveal their true character to the reader.
Exercise 1: Choose a novel or short story and print a copy of the first moment of tension, struggle, or challenge for the character. Now, find and print a copy of the last big moment of tension or struggle for this character in the novel (this is often but not always during the climax).
Mark up these scenes, underlining and annotating with what reveals character (wants, needs, multidimensional, strengths/weaknesses, active/passive, sympathetic/unsympathetic). Compare these scenes and how the character has changed throughout the course of the novel. How does the first scene of tension and struggle set up the final scene of tension and struggle?
Exercise 2: Jane Austen is a master of creating tension and struggle from small, everyday moments, and using this tension to express and develop character. List five everyday objects from the same category (i.e. kitchen items, toys, technology, apparel). Write a short scene which includes at least two of these objects and which also uses tensions and struggle to reveal character.
Exercise 3: If you have a draft of a short story or novel, analyze what types of tension you use throughout the story. Is the tension or struggle manifested by:
Do the sorts of struggles shift over the course of your novel? How does this affect the main character’s inner journey? Is the progression satisfying?
Last week, I wrote about how to create sympathetic characters, and why they are so useful. To make your characters unsympathetic, you often use the reverse techniques.
Here are some of the major techniques which create unsympathetic characters:
Emma (in Jane Austen’s novel of the same title) is a great example of an effective unsympathetic character. It is challenging to write an unsympathetic main character who routinely takes actions that the reader disagrees with—yet Austen has done so in a way that keeps us engaged and even rooting for Emma.
Gif of Emma from the 2020 film
The techniques Austen uses are useful whether you’re writing an unsympathetic protagonist, antagonist, or supporting character, and they are also useful if you are making a largely sympathetic character unsympathetic for a portion of the story.
Emma is Jane Austen’s only heroine that is truly, undeniably rich. At the beginning of the novel, her governess marries, and she is left alone with her father. She befriends Harriet Smith and tries to teach her to be more refined.
Yet Harriet is in love with a Mr. Martin, and even though he is respectable and owns his own land and could make Harriet happy, Emma is opposed to the match, and she justifies this opposition by claiming that Mr. Martin is beneath Harriet in status (however, as Mr. Knightley points out, this is not actually the case).
As Harriet and Emma are walking one day, they see Mr. Martin, and Harriet speaks with him briefly. After, an excited Harriet asks Emma:
“Well, Miss Woodhouse, is he like what you expected? What do you think of him? Do you think him so very plain?”
“He is very plain, undoubtedly—remarkably plain:—but that is nothing, compared with his entire want of gentility. I had no right to expect much, and I did not expect much; but I had no idea that he could be so very clownish, so totally without air. I had imagined him, I confess, a degree or two nearer gentility.”
“To be sure,” said Harriet, in a mortified voice, “he is not so genteel as a real gentleman.”
Emma’s words hurt Harriet, but because Emma is highborn and sophisticated and well-spoken, Harriet does not protest. A few chapters later, Mr. Martin proposes (via letter) to Harriet, and Emma convinces Harriet to turn him down (though she does it in a way that forces Harriet to make the decision as if on her own). These are unsympathetic actions which derive from faulty judgement and selfish motives (wanting to keep Harriet to herself). Though we understand Emma’s perspective, we are not meant to relate to it, and instead, we latch on to Mr. Knightley’s criticism of Emma’s behavior.
Note: A key to writing an unsympathetic character is that this character must believe that their motives and actions are good/necessary/justified. In Emma’s mind, she is doing what is best for Harriet and saving her friend.
Though Emma consistently does unsympathetic things, we keep reading because of her redeeming qualities:
All of these redeeming qualities give us some level of sympathy for Emma, which brings me to my next point: unsympathetic characters should still have sympathetic qualities.
Even though her judgment can be faulty and her actions unkind, sometimes she has better judgment and shows a stronger awareness of the needs and desires of others. For instance, Emma’s father hates marriage and is upset that Miss Taylor has become Mrs. Weston:
Poor Miss Taylor!—I wish she were here again. What a pity it is that Mr. Weston ever thought of her!”
“I cannot agree with you, papa; you know I cannot. Mr. Weston is such a good-humoured, pleasant, excellent man, that he thoroughly deserves a good wife;–and you would not have had Miss Taylor live with us for ever and bear all my odd humours, when she might have a house of her own?”
We can become invested in unsympathetic characters when they are more sympathetic (in one or more areas) than their fellow characters.
If Emma was completely self-aware, she would realize the full, sometimes terrible consequences of her actions.
Yet she shows a certain level of self-awareness. This can be seen as she talks about, thinks about, and interacts with Jane Fairfax, a long-time acquittance who has come to stay in Highbury. Here’s an excerpt from a rather lengthy passage (bolding is my own):
Emma was sorry;—to have to pay civilities to a person she did not like through three long months!—to be always doing more than she wished, and less than she ought! Why she did not like Jane Fairfax might be a difficult question to answer; Mr. Knightley had once told her it was because she saw in her the really accomplished young woman, which she wanted to be thought herself; and though the accusation had been eagerly refuted at the time, there were moments of self-examination in which her conscience could not quite acquit her. But “she could never get acquainted with her: she did not know how it was, but there was such coldness and reserve—such apparent indifference whether she pleased or not—and then, her aunt was such an eternal talker!—and she was made such a fuss with by every body!—and it had been always imagined that they were to be so intimate—because their ages were the same, every body had supposed they must be so fond of each other.” These were her reasons—she had no better.
It was a dislike so little just—every imputed fault was so magnified by fancy, that she never saw Jane Fairfax the first time after any considerable absence, without feeling that she had injured her; and now, when the due visit was paid, on her arrival, after a two years’ interval, she was particularly struck with the very appearance and manners, which for those two whole years she had been depreciating. Jane Fairfax was very elegant, remarkably elegant; and she had herself the highest value for elegance.
Emma is aware of her own unfairness, and she is aware that her “dislike [is] so little just.” Yet as the scene progresses, she continues to justify her negative behavior and actions towards Jane based on perceived faults:
She was, besides, which was the worst of all, so cold, so cautious! There was no getting at her real opinion. Wrapt up in a cloak of politeness, she seemed determined to hazard nothing. She was disgustingly, was suspiciously reserved.
Even though we cannot completely condone Emma’s behavior and attitude, she does become more sympathetic as we are immersed in her perspective.
There are many reasons that you might want to create an unsympathetic character:
Emma’s internal journey is about her rethinking her place in the community and learning to be kinder and let others choose what is best for themselves. She shows tremendous growth over the novel, and it’s largely made possible through her being an unsympathetic character.
Exercise 1: Who is your favorite unsympathetic character? This could be a protagonist, an antagonist, or a supporting character. Why are they unsympathetic? And why do you like them?
Exercise 2: Take a classic fairy tale character that is generally sympathetic (i.e. Cinderella). Write a scene which makes this character unsympathetic to the reader. Remember to temper the character and give them some redeeming or positive qualities.
Exercise 3: Different techniques for unsympathetic characters can create very different effects. Take one of your characters—this could be a new or an existing character. Now choose three of the following techniques you could use to make them unsympathetic:
For each technique you choose, brainstorm a scene that could use this technique to make the character unsympathetic. (If you’d like to take it one step farther, you can write these scenes.)
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.
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.
AND/OR
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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:
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?
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.
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.
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.
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:
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.
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.
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:
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.