Second Degree of Diabolicalness: You understand a little too well what fatal flaw led them down the dark path and why they do what they do
In my opinion, this is always what makes the absolute best villains: you can relate to them even in the face of their ruthless and outright diabolical machinations. No matter how vile, no matter how sick or cold-blooded their actions, you can see the method behind the madness and most of the times, and here's where it goes from scary to scary brilliant, it makes perfect sense.
To me, Batman's villains are the best example of a hero whose greatest enemies are ones that the reader can sympathize with more than we might ever think we should. Why? Because we know that given their situation, it's entirely possible to envision a reality where we would have done the exact same thing. People can label comic book and fantasy superheroes as being unrealistic all they want, but the truth of the matter is that the reason these forms of literature work so well (when they do) is because they utilize the archetypes that readers identify with, putting themselves into the shoes of the villain and saying, "Yep, I can see how it came to this."
Using Batman's gallery of rogues as the example, let's see if we can sympathize with the plight of the fall from grace that his villains experienced...
July 29, 2010
Degrees of Diabolicalness - Part I
They're half the reason you fall in love with the story even though they're typically the source of conflict and what makes the hero's journey so harrowing, enveloping and often times excruciating. They're the person you can't help but love to hate and consistently find yourself awestruck at their ability for evil.
That's right, I'm talking about the villain.
A little while ago I got together with some friends and we did a march madness style bracket of all the modern villains, individually ranking them from a1 seed villain (Darth Vader) all the way down to 16 seed villains (Biff Tannen) and then averaging them all up to get the final rankings for the seeding. What's so interesting to me is that despite our three very, VERY different opinions of who the best villains (and movies, and heroes, and comic book characters...you get the idea) of all time were, three of the final four villains were the same in every person's bracket. That's right, out of 64 modern villains, three of the final four were unanimous inclusions in every single bracket, defeating every other villain in their way.
Despite our personal tastes and differing perspectives on what makes a legendary villain so wonderful, Darth Vader, Dracula and the Wicked Witch of the West all earned a spot in the final four (the last spot was split between the Joker, Sauron and Voldemort; again, this was a modern villains list so more classical villains like Faust, Medusa, etc, weren't eligible). Now the reason I bring this up is because after further reflection, every single final four member possessed three traits, or as I like to call them, Degrees of Diabolicalness, that raised them from mere "bad guy" status to the "when you think of a villain, you think of them" place in modern history.
That's right, I'm talking about the villain.
A little while ago I got together with some friends and we did a march madness style bracket of all the modern villains, individually ranking them from a1 seed villain (Darth Vader) all the way down to 16 seed villains (Biff Tannen) and then averaging them all up to get the final rankings for the seeding. What's so interesting to me is that despite our three very, VERY different opinions of who the best villains (and movies, and heroes, and comic book characters...you get the idea) of all time were, three of the final four villains were the same in every person's bracket. That's right, out of 64 modern villains, three of the final four were unanimous inclusions in every single bracket, defeating every other villain in their way.
Despite our personal tastes and differing perspectives on what makes a legendary villain so wonderful, Darth Vader, Dracula and the Wicked Witch of the West all earned a spot in the final four (the last spot was split between the Joker, Sauron and Voldemort; again, this was a modern villains list so more classical villains like Faust, Medusa, etc, weren't eligible). Now the reason I bring this up is because after further reflection, every single final four member possessed three traits, or as I like to call them, Degrees of Diabolicalness, that raised them from mere "bad guy" status to the "when you think of a villain, you think of them" place in modern history.
July 22, 2010
Sneak Peek: Chapter Five
Chapter Five
First Impressions
“I don’t think I’m the right person to tell you that, Jaden,” Gwen said, her eyes lowering to the floor and avoiding his gaze.
“I can’t imagine anyone better than you,” he said.
“I can’t imagine anyone better than you,” he said.
Percival eyed Gwen with a look that reminded Jaden of when his mother had to tell him that his first dog, Lady, had died due to bone cancer. He wished he could read minds because Percival clearly knew something, something about how Jaden fit into all of this madness that Jaden obviously did not.
And he was growing tired of feeling out of the loop.
“Gwen,” Percival said in a whisper, “if you think it would be best for you two to be alone so he can hear it from someone he—”
“Of course not,” she said, straightening up, “don’t be silly, Percival. Jaden, there is a time and a place to have that discussion and right now is not appropriate for either.”
Whoa. What was that about?
“I, okay,” Jaden said, “sorry to bring it up.”
Percival buried his furrowed brow into the chart and Jaden tried to avoid eye contact with Gwen.
There was something about the sternness of her voice, the cold and harsh tone to her words that unsettled Jaden. He had never seen Gwen look the way she just had, so rigid and deflective in her posture. She usually moved so fluidly when they would walk across campus, her sylph-like arms exaggerating her stories and expressions as they waved to and fro with such joyful vigor. The Gwen he was used to seeing was always smiling and laughing, her cherub cheeks stretching to the sky instead of clenched in a calculated austerity.
The nagging feeling that Jaden didn’t know who the real Gwen was gnawed away at his mind again, taunting him with suggestions of embarrassment and betrayal. Perhaps she was just that good of an actress and it had all been a part of her cover. He could handle that one, but the nagging sense that Gwen was somehow ashamed of her feelings for him grew.
“I’m not who you think I am.” Her words resonated once more within his mind and almost on cue, Gwen turned to him and even though he couldn’t be sure, a fading glimmer from her eyes seemed to reappear if only for a moment.
Did she know how he really felt? Had she—
We’ll talk about that later.
The shock of her voice jolted Jaden, his aching sides screaming their disapproval at the sudden movement.
What did she know? How much had she heard?
I’m sorry but we’ll talk about that later, all right?
He nodded, glancing over at Percival who appeared oblivious as he eyed the chart for a third time a little too thoroughly.
He tried to empty his mind and think about innocuous things, like what kind of stone was around him or how old Percival was since he looked like he couldn’t be much older than his early forties, even with the outdated spectacles and olive green suspenders suggesting a more vintage age. Then more pressing concerns entered Jaden’s mind, like if Percival was even a real doctor.
“Oh,” Percival said, breaking the long silence, “I thought of another question I’d like to ask you, Jaden.”
July 21, 2010
The Goldilocks Conundrum
Continuing our spirited discussion about reader preferences and how a reader's already preconceived likes and dislikes can alter the way they approach and interact with a story, I think chapter length is a fascinating example of something that really is quite ambiguous, having no real right or wrong value in and of itself, and yet there is typically a visceral divide between readers who prefer short chapters and those who love long chapters.
Both lengths have their advantages when it comes to pace and storytelling and the fans of each make excellent points as to why they prefer one to the other.
A shorter chapter, typically 3,500 words or less, will almost always move at a quick, crisp pace and really propel the reader (if it's written well) through a chapter that leaves the reader with that a sense of moving through the book at a good pace and thereby making good progress. In other words, they feel as though they are accomplishing something and the book "reads fast."
A longer chapter, usually somewhere between 4,000 - 7,000 words, has the benefit of really diving into that specific scene or event that takes place within that individual chapter, giving more weight and an almost "you can catch your breath and sink your teeth into this" feel where the reader can truly dig their toes into the sand and feel swallowed up in the world of the novel and experience a sublime suspension of disbelief that takes place in an excellent work of fiction.
Yet just like each length has its advantages, they also have disadvantages and like so many things in life the strengths of the chapter durations can also be their biggest weaknesses. A short chapter can feel too brief, incomplete and rushed if not handled delicately. And a long chapter can feel like a droning, directionless dump of description, aimless exposition and, for lack of a better word, drivel.
Those distinctly unique strengths and weaknesses are why I typically don't prefer either length as a blanket preference. To me, like most things involving writing and artistic construction, it is not the forms themselves that are right or wrong, good or bad, but how and where they are used. Ten back-to-back chapters that are less than 3,000 words each can seem a bit truncated and lacking depth no matter how much info is actually in them, just as ten back-to-back chapters over 6,000 words could seem monotonous and long-winded no matter how quick the story moves or how diverse the scenes are.
But why?
Well, take a glance over any good page in a book and I can promise you that you won't see everything fit uniformly together. Action is typically truncated, reading faster and choppier like the subject it is describing. Dialogue reads differently, shorter and to the fact at hand. Description is rich and more lengthy, flowing down a page. You get the idea.
We naturally want things we read or see to have an ebb and flow, a rising and falling action just like a great story does. This is why we have those wonderful things called paragraphs. We need, just as much as a narrative does, the separation of thoughts, of events, of dialogues, of description so that instead of it being a giant block of words that we must wade through on a page of text, the ink and paper feels like a flowing, meandering tapestry of movement through words and meaning.
That's why, even though I do enjoy shorter chapters more often than not, since they're a little more difficult to mess up, I believe that the scene and the arc of whatever story is being told in that chapter is what determines its length, not some preconceived method of chapter duration.
As it should be then, it is the story that organically determines the form. Not the other way around.
Both lengths have their advantages when it comes to pace and storytelling and the fans of each make excellent points as to why they prefer one to the other.
A shorter chapter, typically 3,500 words or less, will almost always move at a quick, crisp pace and really propel the reader (if it's written well) through a chapter that leaves the reader with that a sense of moving through the book at a good pace and thereby making good progress. In other words, they feel as though they are accomplishing something and the book "reads fast."
A longer chapter, usually somewhere between 4,000 - 7,000 words, has the benefit of really diving into that specific scene or event that takes place within that individual chapter, giving more weight and an almost "you can catch your breath and sink your teeth into this" feel where the reader can truly dig their toes into the sand and feel swallowed up in the world of the novel and experience a sublime suspension of disbelief that takes place in an excellent work of fiction.
Yet just like each length has its advantages, they also have disadvantages and like so many things in life the strengths of the chapter durations can also be their biggest weaknesses. A short chapter can feel too brief, incomplete and rushed if not handled delicately. And a long chapter can feel like a droning, directionless dump of description, aimless exposition and, for lack of a better word, drivel.
Those distinctly unique strengths and weaknesses are why I typically don't prefer either length as a blanket preference. To me, like most things involving writing and artistic construction, it is not the forms themselves that are right or wrong, good or bad, but how and where they are used. Ten back-to-back chapters that are less than 3,000 words each can seem a bit truncated and lacking depth no matter how much info is actually in them, just as ten back-to-back chapters over 6,000 words could seem monotonous and long-winded no matter how quick the story moves or how diverse the scenes are.
But why?
Well, take a glance over any good page in a book and I can promise you that you won't see everything fit uniformly together. Action is typically truncated, reading faster and choppier like the subject it is describing. Dialogue reads differently, shorter and to the fact at hand. Description is rich and more lengthy, flowing down a page. You get the idea.
We naturally want things we read or see to have an ebb and flow, a rising and falling action just like a great story does. This is why we have those wonderful things called paragraphs. We need, just as much as a narrative does, the separation of thoughts, of events, of dialogues, of description so that instead of it being a giant block of words that we must wade through on a page of text, the ink and paper feels like a flowing, meandering tapestry of movement through words and meaning.
That's why, even though I do enjoy shorter chapters more often than not, since they're a little more difficult to mess up, I believe that the scene and the arc of whatever story is being told in that chapter is what determines its length, not some preconceived method of chapter duration.
As it should be then, it is the story that organically determines the form. Not the other way around.
July 19, 2010
Into the middle, intentionally
A reader left an incredibly valuable piece of feedback on the Chapter Three comments' page to the point that I felt it merited a post all its own instead of a mere response in the comments section. The critique went as follows:
Anonymous said...
Just one opinion, but I don't know enough about these character's back stories and motivation yet to care much about them or the action. Do you feel the back stories and motivation have to be withheld as much as they have been? Do you feel you have given "enough" so far?
Now that's a fairly loaded piece of feedback so I'm going to address my explanation in two parts but to start us off I'll just respond by saying, yes, I do believe the backstory of the protagonist and the major characters is withheld to the proper amount for the first three chapters of this story (or any novel, really). Were we at chapter fifteen or twenty and you still had very little clue as to what has precipitated the major conflict in the story and how Jaden and company fit, then I'd say we have a serious problem.
However, since we are quite literally only a few thousand words into the narrative, the relative mystery surrounding Jaden and the overall history of the characters is not only intentionally done but is in keeping with the classic story arc of epics for the last two thousand years. More specifically though, there are two reasons why the story is constructed this way...
First, the concept of in media res must be understood for this first explanation to have any weight. In terms of the greatest epic stories of all time (not that I'm comparing this manuscript to those in anyway; they are, however, the goal to which every storyteller should strive for), every single one of them begins not at the very beginning of the events that lead up to an action or conflict, but originate "into the middle of the affairs" or in the very middle of the conflict and rising action of the primary narrative's story's arc.
After all, there is a reason it is called backstory. The narrative of primary interest to the reader is the story and action that takes place in the actual novel, whereas the narrative of the characters' backstory is more of a history that provides depth and a sense of verisimilitude to the reader from a previous, secondary narrative that more so underlies the situation when the primary narrative begins than directly influences it.
In other words, you start in the middle of your story to ramp up the tension and action and conflict to draw readers into a gripping narrative because it is the elements and events currently taking place in the pages of that rising action which are the primary focus of that narrative and the reader. This is typically why the backstory of the characters and the events that have brought the major players to the place where the story begins is dealt with later on throughout the book, typically through flashback or reminiscent dialogue. You don't typically want to unload huge chunks of backstory at the beginning of an epic narrative because, unless you're Tolkien, you're going to bore your reader to death with the details. And since you won't have any action or conflict, the person won't have any reason to keep reading since, quite literally, nothing is happening.
And even though in media res would be enough of a reason (you know, since it worked for Paradise Lost, the Odyssey, the Iliad, Dante's Inferno, and even Star Wars), I did have a second reason to start the story without diving into the past of the protagonist with full force.
Reader/Hero Identification.
As you will see in the story, being in the dark about your true past and the new reality/world to which you find yourself thrust into is a classic trait that every epic hero possesses and must go through on their riveting journey. From Luke Skywalker to Neo to Harry Potter, even modern epic heroes have this quality that the classic heroes had. And since the goal of the author is to foster a connection between the reader and the hero of the story, I wanted to really intertwine the experiences of Jaden with the reader right from the start, which is why Jaden may be even more in the dark about his true past and the events surrounding him than maybe other heroes have been (though not by much).
I wanted the reader to feel exactly how Jaden feels, to experience the precise emotions and revelations that he does when the answers to who he really is and what his role is in the entire story come to light. It is my utmost hope that the bond the reader has with Jaden blossoms not through a mere history lesson of his background, but because of a commonality built on sharing his entire journey from the person he thought he was to the person he truly is and the hero he must become.
Anyway, I want to thank whoever posted that piece of feedback as that is just absolutely a textbook representation of constructive criticism, which is the driving heartbeat of literary discussion and narrative appreciation.
Thanks!
Anonymous said...
Just one opinion, but I don't know enough about these character's back stories and motivation yet to care much about them or the action. Do you feel the back stories and motivation have to be withheld as much as they have been? Do you feel you have given "enough" so far?
Now that's a fairly loaded piece of feedback so I'm going to address my explanation in two parts but to start us off I'll just respond by saying, yes, I do believe the backstory of the protagonist and the major characters is withheld to the proper amount for the first three chapters of this story (or any novel, really). Were we at chapter fifteen or twenty and you still had very little clue as to what has precipitated the major conflict in the story and how Jaden and company fit, then I'd say we have a serious problem.
However, since we are quite literally only a few thousand words into the narrative, the relative mystery surrounding Jaden and the overall history of the characters is not only intentionally done but is in keeping with the classic story arc of epics for the last two thousand years. More specifically though, there are two reasons why the story is constructed this way...
First, the concept of in media res must be understood for this first explanation to have any weight. In terms of the greatest epic stories of all time (not that I'm comparing this manuscript to those in anyway; they are, however, the goal to which every storyteller should strive for), every single one of them begins not at the very beginning of the events that lead up to an action or conflict, but originate "into the middle of the affairs" or in the very middle of the conflict and rising action of the primary narrative's story's arc.
After all, there is a reason it is called backstory. The narrative of primary interest to the reader is the story and action that takes place in the actual novel, whereas the narrative of the characters' backstory is more of a history that provides depth and a sense of verisimilitude to the reader from a previous, secondary narrative that more so underlies the situation when the primary narrative begins than directly influences it.
In other words, you start in the middle of your story to ramp up the tension and action and conflict to draw readers into a gripping narrative because it is the elements and events currently taking place in the pages of that rising action which are the primary focus of that narrative and the reader. This is typically why the backstory of the characters and the events that have brought the major players to the place where the story begins is dealt with later on throughout the book, typically through flashback or reminiscent dialogue. You don't typically want to unload huge chunks of backstory at the beginning of an epic narrative because, unless you're Tolkien, you're going to bore your reader to death with the details. And since you won't have any action or conflict, the person won't have any reason to keep reading since, quite literally, nothing is happening.
And even though in media res would be enough of a reason (you know, since it worked for Paradise Lost, the Odyssey, the Iliad, Dante's Inferno, and even Star Wars), I did have a second reason to start the story without diving into the past of the protagonist with full force.
Reader/Hero Identification.
As you will see in the story, being in the dark about your true past and the new reality/world to which you find yourself thrust into is a classic trait that every epic hero possesses and must go through on their riveting journey. From Luke Skywalker to Neo to Harry Potter, even modern epic heroes have this quality that the classic heroes had. And since the goal of the author is to foster a connection between the reader and the hero of the story, I wanted to really intertwine the experiences of Jaden with the reader right from the start, which is why Jaden may be even more in the dark about his true past and the events surrounding him than maybe other heroes have been (though not by much).
I wanted the reader to feel exactly how Jaden feels, to experience the precise emotions and revelations that he does when the answers to who he really is and what his role is in the entire story come to light. It is my utmost hope that the bond the reader has with Jaden blossoms not through a mere history lesson of his background, but because of a commonality built on sharing his entire journey from the person he thought he was to the person he truly is and the hero he must become.
Anyway, I want to thank whoever posted that piece of feedback as that is just absolutely a textbook representation of constructive criticism, which is the driving heartbeat of literary discussion and narrative appreciation.
Thanks!
July 14, 2010
Sneak Peek: Chapter Four
So after some comments requesting another chapter and numerous emails doing the same thing, I've decided to keep the Sneak Peek feature ongoing so here is a look at the fourth chapter of The Gift of the Greenstone. I hope you enjoy it and I look forward to your feedback.
Jaden’s feet pounded the soggy ground as his blood burned within his veins, his muscles searing with each successive stride as he raced through the forest, avoiding thick tree trunks the best he could in the blinding downpour.
He couldn’t let anything slow him down.
It was chasing him.
He was back here again, in this dense and dark forest with some horrible thing bearing down upon him without mercy, gaining on him. With his limbs aching and his chest heaving, Jaden spotted the distant cabin he knew would be there just a few hundred feet ahead.
After scrambling up the faded and peeling painted steps, Jaden reached the cabin’s door and fumbled to turn the doorknob.
Locked.
No matter how furiously he tried to turn the knob the metal would not budge. And then something warm, something alive, breathed onto Jaden’s neck.
It was behind him.
It always caught him in the end. He could never escape it; never find shelter from the storm or the monster while the warm glow of the cabin’s fireplace could be seen through a window inches in front of his face. So it was time then, yet again, to turn around, like he had every other time he found himself in the midst of this reoccurring nightmare, and see what was standing behind him.
Tired of running, tired of being scared of whatever was hunting him in his dreams for as far back as he could remember, Jaden wheeled around to look at whatever had been chasing him face to face, screaming “Get away!” when—
“Jaden?
Ugh.
He felt dizzy. Disoriented. Sounds drifted in and out of his mind like an ebbing tide of sensory confusion. He couldn’t tell if he was awake or still dreaming—or somewhere in between.
“Jaden,” said a soft voice, “wake up.”
Chapter Four
Walls of Stone
Jaden’s feet pounded the soggy ground as his blood burned within his veins, his muscles searing with each successive stride as he raced through the forest, avoiding thick tree trunks the best he could in the blinding downpour.
He couldn’t let anything slow him down.
It was chasing him.
He was back here again, in this dense and dark forest with some horrible thing bearing down upon him without mercy, gaining on him. With his limbs aching and his chest heaving, Jaden spotted the distant cabin he knew would be there just a few hundred feet ahead.
After scrambling up the faded and peeling painted steps, Jaden reached the cabin’s door and fumbled to turn the doorknob.
Locked.
No matter how furiously he tried to turn the knob the metal would not budge. And then something warm, something alive, breathed onto Jaden’s neck.
It was behind him.
It always caught him in the end. He could never escape it; never find shelter from the storm or the monster while the warm glow of the cabin’s fireplace could be seen through a window inches in front of his face. So it was time then, yet again, to turn around, like he had every other time he found himself in the midst of this reoccurring nightmare, and see what was standing behind him.
Tired of running, tired of being scared of whatever was hunting him in his dreams for as far back as he could remember, Jaden wheeled around to look at whatever had been chasing him face to face, screaming “Get away!” when—
“Jaden?
Ugh.
He felt dizzy. Disoriented. Sounds drifted in and out of his mind like an ebbing tide of sensory confusion. He couldn’t tell if he was awake or still dreaming—or somewhere in between.
“Jaden,” said a soft voice, “wake up.”
July 2, 2010
Sneak Peek: Chapter Three
Here's what I intend to be the last Sneak Peek but hey, nothing's set in stone so if I get enough responses for more or if the soon-to-be-posted poll comes back with a cry for another chapter or two, we'll just have to see what happens next.
In the meantime, he's the third chapter of The Gift of the Greenstone.
The pavement was wet and unforgiving. Everything looked fuzzy and Jaden’s palms burned. He tried to push himself up off of the sidewalk but couldn’t, the venomous sting of scraped skin stopping him.
“Gwen,” Merrick said, “Get him out of here!”
Gwen crawled over to Jaden amidst the dust and debris of collapsed brick. “Are you hurt?” she said, the entranceway exterior crumbling around them.
“I’m all right,” Jaden said, “are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Merrick made sure—”
“You two. Up. Now,” Merrick said.
Jaden turned and could only stare at the sight before him. Merrick’s bear-like arms quivered, holding a cherry-red truck in the air, the headlights shining onto his chest. The impact of the truck had sent him sliding through the concrete sidewalk and into the ceiling-high windows and brown brickwork of the coffee shop’s front entrance.
“It’s not possible,” Jaden said, muttering those same words to himself a few more times, his mind incapable of rationalizing what he was seeing only teen feet in front of him.
“Go!” Merrick said, “Gwen, now!”
Innocent bystanders fled away from the entrance, hysterical and screaming. The unmistakable echo of scurrying shoes across asphalt interrupted the high-pitched pings and billowing metallic creaks of the half-ton behemoth still held aloft in Merrick’s hands.
With the entrance caved in and the individuals in the coffee shop gone, Merrick peered over the edge of the front right tire and looked across the street. Eight darkened figures stood in a line, their faces and bodies hidden in shadow.
In the meantime, he's the third chapter of The Gift of the Greenstone.
Chapter Three
The Fight to Escape
The pavement was wet and unforgiving. Everything looked fuzzy and Jaden’s palms burned. He tried to push himself up off of the sidewalk but couldn’t, the venomous sting of scraped skin stopping him.
“Gwen,” Merrick said, “Get him out of here!”
Gwen crawled over to Jaden amidst the dust and debris of collapsed brick. “Are you hurt?” she said, the entranceway exterior crumbling around them.
“I’m all right,” Jaden said, “are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Merrick made sure—”
“You two. Up. Now,” Merrick said.
Jaden turned and could only stare at the sight before him. Merrick’s bear-like arms quivered, holding a cherry-red truck in the air, the headlights shining onto his chest. The impact of the truck had sent him sliding through the concrete sidewalk and into the ceiling-high windows and brown brickwork of the coffee shop’s front entrance.
“It’s not possible,” Jaden said, muttering those same words to himself a few more times, his mind incapable of rationalizing what he was seeing only teen feet in front of him.
“Go!” Merrick said, “Gwen, now!”
Innocent bystanders fled away from the entrance, hysterical and screaming. The unmistakable echo of scurrying shoes across asphalt interrupted the high-pitched pings and billowing metallic creaks of the half-ton behemoth still held aloft in Merrick’s hands.
With the entrance caved in and the individuals in the coffee shop gone, Merrick peered over the edge of the front right tire and looked across the street. Eight darkened figures stood in a line, their faces and bodies hidden in shadow.
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