Of Obscure And Underrated Characters: Elwin Ransom

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c.s. lewis, characters, earnest hemingway, elwin ransom, f. scott fitzgerald, out of the silent planet, perelandra, story dynamics, that hideous strength, the lost generation, the space trilogy

Okay, so not as obscure as some I could’ve picked, but it counts as obscure, since everyone seems to have forgotten that Lewis didn’t just write for children. *glares at stereotypes in general*

Disclaimer: I don’t think that all atheists write depressing things. As a Christian, however, I tend to find atheistic beliefs very depressing. I don’t intend to offend; this is simply how I read it.

Okay, so first for some background.

Dr. Elwin Ransom is the central or viewpoint character in C.S. Lewis’ novels Out of the Silent Planet and Perelandra, and an important character (though no longer a viewpoint character) in That Hideous Strength. He was also featured in the unfinished story The Dark Tower. These novels were written as part of a dare between Lewis and fellow Inkling J.R.R. Tolkien. Lewis was supposed to write a science-fiction story, while Tolkien was going to try a time-travel novel. (Tolkien’s side of the dare is sadly incomplete.) From the three completed books and parts of The Dark Tower, you can gather some important information about the hero’s personal history.

1. Dr. Elwin Ransom is a philologist. Basically, he studies languages, probably those of the British Isles especially, given that he understands that his name isn’t actually anything to do with the act of ransoming, but is a corruption of the Scandanavian “Ranulf’s Son” (Perelandra.)
2. He fought in the First World War. I don’t recall where he was in action or if it was even mentioned which unit he was in, but he did see action.
3. He teaches at a university (I don’t remember, but I think it was Cambridge.) I wish he was my teacher.

Ransom is a pretty likeable character to begin with. He feels frustration with himself and his somewhat-impulsive side, much like Horatio Hornblower (in the books, not so much the movies), but he is very generous all the same, even when it makes things awkward (ahh, awkwardness… Lewis took the chance to poke fun at it… I can’t even come close to telling you how hilarious it is. Seriously, read the book. X-D)

But the truly ironic thing about Ransom is that he’s one of the Lost Generation.

The Lost Generation is a term used to refer to the men who fought in the First World War and came home disillusioned, with war, with themselves, and with the values of the previous generation.

Lewis, along with F. Scott Fitzgerald and Earnest Hemingway (and Ransom!), was a member of the Lost Generation and fought in the First World War.

While some people lost their way, Lewis is a good example of how bad things can either press people to disillusionment or to hope.

Ransom’s character arc is very unique compared to many fantasy and science fiction heroes. Instead of being a high-fantasy hero or a wizard or an Asgardian or whatever, he’s a human with human doubts and human struggles. These books aren’t man against nature or man against his fellow man: they are man against himself, and have perhaps the most powerful conflict of any books I have ever read as a result (with the exception of The Lord of the Rings, which similarly deals with the protagonist fighting with himself.)

The only other characters I can think of at the moment who have the same struggle (in a visible and vital capacity; sorry, Obi-Wan, Lucas really shortchanged us all when he decided to give you less screen time!) are Horatio Hornblower (written by an atheist and therefore depressing) and the Doctor (who is a telepathic, possibly immortal, time-travelling alien, for goodness’ sake.)

The thing about Lewis, however, is that, while he powerfully conveys the agony that is doubt and interior struggle, he is also absolutely brilliant at writing that moment of clarity that ends all doubt and pours new life into the soul. When the reader reaches that moment of resolution, it is a cleansing and rejuvenating experience for him or her as well as for Ransom.

Reading C.S. Lewis is like doing spring-cleaning in your head. C.S. Lewis is a whole new level of metafiction.

Out of the Silent Planet, Perelandra and That Hideous Strength are essentially metafiction on the Bible. Seriously, do you need any more reasons why you should go and read them?!

(Afterword: Stick with That Hideous Strength, no matter how hard it gets. There’s discourse on the Arthurian legends, so it is so worth the time.)

Thanks for reading, and God Bless!

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The Brooklyn Project: Writing Anger, Part Three

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character development, character types, characters, fantasy, novels, story dynamics, writing, writing about emotion, writing tips and advice

I never expected this segment of the project to take this long! Oh well.

In the first segment, I discussed why anger is important to your writing (you have to include emotion or your characters will come off as unfeeling or sociopathic), and typical ways character types get angry. In the second, I talked about some specific examples.

Now it’s time for the tips on how to work characters getting angry into your own work. Yay! *throws yogurt instead of confetti*

Now that everyone has had their free yogurt facial, I’m going to start talking.

As you saw in my last post in this series, characters often act in given ways due to their backstory. This isn’t necessarily part of their personality, though. For the sake of this post, I’m referring to personality as an enduring set of traits that influence a person to act in a certain way.

Some characters may go through a lot of trauma and never show any outward sign of it. Others may struggle to come to terms with it, but their core personality remains the same. Others are completely different following the experience.

Another quick checklist, this one for determining whether or not an experience (traumatic or otherwise) changes a character:

• How intense was the experience?
• How profound an effect did it have on the character?
• Was it a “first time” of some kind?
• How old was the character at the time?
• How long did it last?
• How long ago was it?
• How much of the character’s entire comparative life span did it take up? (e.g. if it’s been happening to them all their lives, or if it’s a more recent occurrence, or if it happened years ago but took up years.)

Also you have to consider the character. Some characters are just more resilient than others.

When a character gets angry, consider how they do it. Do they rage? Do they threaten violence? Do they use their words, and how do they use their words? Do they just walk away, or do they confront the problem?

Here’s an example from one of my novels:

Before the monster could shatter Cael’s bones with that massive paw, it suddenly reeled backwards, writhing in agony, a faint blue light shining from somewhere in the area of its maw. Its death throes lasted for only a few seconds, but it seemed much longer. As the beast fell, Arden leaped down from its back.

‘What are you doing here, Cael?’ he asked in a quiet, calculated voice, his face immobile.

‘I thought someone was in trouble,’ Cael stammered.

‘And you just wandered off?’ The words were velvety smooth but as perilous as quicksand. Not trusting himself to answer aloud, Cael nodded. ‘What did I tell you?’ Arden asked, his eyes flashing. Cael wondered if Arden was going to punish him in some way. But rather than doing anything, Arden continued in that dulcet, threatening tone, which was, in a way, more terrifying than anything he might have done.

‘Don’t wander off.’

If you can’t tell, Arden is a Type Five and Cael is either a Type One or Two. 😉

Remember that some characters are just innately more terrifying when they’re angry than others.

If your viewpoint character is the object of the anger, make sure to decide whether the other character’s form of anger is frightening to them or not, then pick out a few details that stand out to them. Choose just a couple of reasons why the anger is frightening and focus on them. Scrub your writing of too many details and purple or flowery prose–you can use a few details and a few unusual words, but don’t use too many, which will bog your writing down and detract from the emotion of the scene.

The same advice can also be useful for writing other forms of fear and shock as well. You can also, if you like, include some incongruous details for your character to notice: the color of a friend’s eyes, a brightly-colored balloon, a flower, the fact that it’s suddenly clouded over or cleared up. Use them to create a sense of detachment and for contrast.

Good luck with your writing!

Thanks for reading, and God Bless!

The Brooklyn Project: Writing Anger, Part Two

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bbc sherlock, captain america, captain america: the first avenger, captain america: the winter soldier, character development, character types, characters, doctor who, marvel, star wars, story dynamics, writing, writing about emotion

Welcome back to this Brooklyn Project special on Writing Anger!

In the previous post, I explained why anger (and other emotions) is important to your novel and the different tendencies of character types in anger. In this post, I will give specific examples, explain how backstory can influence a character’s emotions, and give some advice and handy tools for writing it into your novels.

Anger tends to vary drastically within types as well as within genders. Take Obi-Wan Kenobi and the Doctor, for example. I have them both classed as Type Fives because they’re both extremely complex characters who use a lot of misdirection and subtlety (as a side note, I watched part of David Tennant playing Hamlet and I’d have to say, Hamlet is Type Five as well.) Obi-Wan and the Doctor are both a bit more emotional than the stereotypical Type Five (Sherlock Holmes, for instance), but they have tendencies towards different emotions. Obi-Wan, while he’s a generally optimistic person with a mostly-happy childhood, is also a realist (see? really complex!) and slides toward sadness as an adult (as a child, he had a very quick temper), and I’d imagine that of all the Star Wars characters he’s probably the one hiding the fact that he has to take antidepressants. Obi-Wan has a tendency to switch topics without warning (non sequitur to the Rest Of The World), but has come to manage that in his adult life so he acts more like an INFJ than an INTJ (which I’m pretty sure he is.) The Doctor is much more bipolar. He sometimes has dramatic mood swings, jumps from idea to idea without consistency and gets depressed when he loses Rose in his tenth incarnation. (The Ninth and Twelfth Doctors were both much more focused, while Eleven just seems a bit aimless and underdeveloped to me.)

As a child, Obi-Wan was under a lot of stress much of the time–his teachers had high expectations, he routinely exceeded them, which in turn made his teachers set their standards for him even higher. No one ever particularly told him that he was clever, which certainly helped him to become the humble character we all love, but it didn’t do much to help him cope with his workload–being observant, he knew that most of his age-mates weren’t working this hard. Either he didn’t know the reason, or he simply rationalized it that he was stupid, because he was working so much harder than everyone else. Because he was stressed, he tended to flare up in anger when bullied, which made people perceive him as an angry person when he really was a compassionate and thoughtful one under a lot of stress. (He was probably also dealing with depression, but it went unnoticed because he didn’t fit the stereotype.) This was dramatically exacerbated when he came closer to the cut-off date for apprenticeship. It was a self-fueling cycle that pushed him down, but fortunately Yoda observed what was going on, realized that he was caught in a cycle and they weren’t seeing his true self, and used the fact that he’d recently gotten into a fight with another Jedi hopeful to get him out of the Temple and away from the cycle. (“The Rising Force” by Dave Wolverton. What makes me think he was dealing with depression? The hopeless way he responded to being taken away from the Temple and his difficulty in finding the will to fight back when attacked on the transport. I may be wrong about depression, but that seems to fit the facts.)

As an adult, Obi-Wan was not as likely to flare up, even when provoked. It took a major provocation (oftentimes aimed at his loved ones rather than himself) to get him angry. While he was outwardly a model of serenity, he was really a visionary, passionate and idealistic, and had an innate ability to read other people and respond to them in a disarming way. (Oh, sorry, did I say Obi-Wan was INTJ? It’s really hard to tell if that big letter is a T or an F, especially with him.) Obi-Wan was both a traditionalist and a reformer, and given enough time he might have been able to get the entire Jedi Order back on track. Obi-Wan always had a sarcastic and often dark sense of humor with a love of wordplay and a cutting wit that he used as a smokescreen to hide any internal trepidation. However, his sarcasm was more often a part of his humor than of his anger.

As an adult, Obi-Wan responded to anger in one of two ways. One was a sudden burst of anger (in response to sudden provocation), followed quickly by calm, rational thought, and the other was a cold, distant, controlled and calculated wrath that was completely terrifying, even if you were not the target of it at the time. Obi-Wan was not an angry person, however. His anger was aroused and then when it was over, it was completely gone.

The Doctor, while he had a similar upbringing (taught at an academy with little to no familial contact after his induction), was always more of a rebel. While Obi-Wan had an intuitive understanding of the world and the people around him, the Doctor, while brilliant, would often find himself confronted by situations and things he didn’t understand. The Doctor never particularly cared about other people’s opinions and was often more sassy than sarcastic. Sarcasm was not often a part of his anger, either. The Doctor didn’t often have those rapid flare-ups of temper as an adult–his anger was a constant, a perpetual and constantly controlled presence and as such it was always tightly controlled. When openly angry, the Doctor’s anger was similar to Obi-Wan’s calculated cold fury. He would often be verbally cutting (though not sarcastic,) whittling people down (often to tears) with words. His word choice, posture, and expression would all become menacing. For me, the most effective thing about David Tennant’s performance as the Doctor was the way he could play a character who is sweet, charming, frankly adorable and a little bit ditzy but who is at the same time an intensely driven individual, with an ever-present and deep-rooted anger–especially the way Tennant is able to jump so quickly between the two.

There was another image I was going to use, but it’s the most terrifying expression you are ever likely to see, so I’m going to refrain. This blog is mostly G-rated, after all.

Their angry expressions vary, too: Obi-Wan presses his lips together tightly, the Doctor tends to display his teeth (which is slightly unnerving in its own right–Ten’s teeth are sort of angled-in, which prompted him to comment “That’s weird” immediately after his regeneration.) Obi-Wan’s anger is all in the way he looks calculatedly at people, while the Doctor’s anger is all in the eyes and mouth–eyebrows draw together, lips curl back, and his nose wrinkles a little. The Doctor looms over people, while Obi-Wan tenses up in his core and has to remind himself to breathe. That last one could be more because Obi-Wan’s training was a little more martial in style, so he’s preparing to leap into action at any second. The Doctor’s anger intimidates, while Obi-Wan prepares to fight.

(Bottom line, fangirls: The Doctor is scary. He does have a fluffy side but he also has quite the dark side. Do not occasion David Tennant giving you The Eyebrow… if he did it to me I’d probably burst into tears.)

Let’s talk about Steve Rogers, a typical Type One. Steve doesn’t get angry often, but when he does, you do not want to get on his bad side. Captain America: The Winter Soldier has several prime examples. In the first fifteen or so minutes of the movie, he tells Fury off for not giving him the whole story about the opening mission. Rather than verbally attacking Fury or using sarcasm, though, he lets Fury know he’s angry and then tells him why in plain language that’s not calculated to make Fury angry in turn. As a result, we find out how much Fury really respects Steve–in response to Steve’s accusation, he shows us that he values Steve’s respect by showing Steve SHIELD’s latest top-secret project: Project Insight. You wouldn’t think that Fury would let something like Steve’s respect be that important to him, but it is.

The other notable anger we see Steve display in The Winter Soldier is his anger following the shock of discovering that his best friend is still alive and has been brainwashed into a Soviet superweapon. “Would you have compartmentalized that too?” he asks Fury, the most biting his language to Fury has gotten thus far. He’s being a little bit irrational, which is not really typical for Steve at all. I think that in the scene on the bridge when Sam Wilson says “He’s the kind you stop,” Steve is still angry about it but keeps himself from lashing out viciously at Sam because it is not Sam’s fault.

You can’t really see it on his face when Steve is angry because his angry look is more “calculating” than “angry.” You have to listen to him to know he’s angry. Also, Steve’s sarcasm is rarely connected with his anger–it’s more self-deprecating. We generally only see him use sarcasm when he’s angry with himself or trying to work with people, and then he uses his sarcasm the same way–to defuse the situation through self-deprecating humor. It’s very rare for us to see Steve use anything but plain language–which would seem to be a fairly common trait for Type Ones. They can get technical, but most of the time they whittle things down to the barest meaning they can.

Bucky Barnes is different from most Type Twos. He’s brave, funny, active, adventurous, and a people person. Cool factor was harder to figure out, but he’s the Winter Soldier. However, he isn’t as much of a planner as Steve is and as a result we never see him planning anything in particular. Rather than acting or taking the initiative, we see him reacting (which is probably because his supposed death is the “Mirror Moment” of The First Avenger–the moment the main character goes from reacting to initiating the action.) Bucky is more of what I’d call a mature Type Two–a Type Two who is aware of their own character flaws and dark side, making it more of a character strength for him than a weakness. He’s less existential than Type Ones or Fives though, so he doesn’t deal with such deep self-hate as, for instance, the Doctor, Obi-Wan, or Steve.

When Bucky gets angry, it’s normally because someone has attacked Steve (verbally or physically.) I’d imagine that when someone badmouths Steve, Bucky attacks them personally with his words and tears them down completely. He is quietly angry about the injustice of people constantly taking it out on Steve, but doesn’t quite know what to do about it (because he’s more based in social norms than a Type Five like Sherlock, who would not be held back in going after the wrongdoers simply because it wasn’t “okay.”)

Wow. This post turned out long. I’ll have to split it into three, rather than two as I had planned… Stay tuned for the final installment of this series!

Thanks for reading, and God Bless!

The Brooklyn Project: Writing Anger, Part One

Tags

bbc sherlock, c.s. forester, captain america, character type, characters, disney, doctor who, horatio hornblower, marvel, rapunzel, story dynamics, tangled, writing

Yes, I know it has been a while. I’m sorry. Also, I am not going to list all my (completely valid) excuses here because that would be an entire post in itself. And a half.

In this post, I will explain the different ways different types of characters get angry and why this is important to your story. In the second part of this post (coming soon,) I will give specific examples and explain how you can use this in your story.

Warning: This post will be working off of WriteFury‘s and my character typing system, so if you are not familiar with it, you should probably go and glance through them now:

Click here for Character Profile #1.

Click here for Character Profile #2.

Click here for Character Profile #3.

Click here for Character Profile #4.

Click here for Character Profile #5.

Now that that’s out of the way, we can talk character!

Anger is always a useful tool to better define characters in your readers’ minds. A character who does not get angry or otherwise show an emotion at some point (preferably multiple some-point’s!) in the course of a story will come off as either an emotionless robot or a soulless, undeveloped, bland nobody.

Of course, different characters get provoked to strong emotion in different ways. Here’s a quick checklist to consider (using gender-neutral pronouns for brevity):

• What would xe see as an unforgivable outrage?
• Is xir anger more likely to be righteous or not-so-righteous? (More about this below!)
• Is xe easily provoked to anger? (Bonus points if the villain uses this character flaw against xir!)
• How does xir anger come out? (aka shouting, sarcasm, physical actions, etc.) Also, is xe completely unreasonable when angry? (If so, here’s something for xir to work on in the course of the story!)
• Is xe more likely to try to control xir anger?
• What most commonly makes xir angry? (As in, what everyday annoyance would be most likely to provoke xir?)

Different character types tend to get angry differently. Type Ones can get this look that they are plotting horrible revenge (I am looking at you, Steven Rogers!), or alternatively get quiet and extremely calculating when they are angry. In fact, they may not seem to be angry at all, but use calculated language to make others angry.

Type Twos and Threes often explode in anger or lash out verbally at others because they feel their Fortress of Solitude has been penetrated or wronged. (Incidentally, these two types are also the most likely to take criticism personally rather than realistically and implementing it to improve performance, like Type Ones and Type Fives often do.) Type Twos and Threes are often blissfully unaware of their own character flaws and defects (unlike Type Ones and Fives, who tend to know their own personalities altogether too well and are more likely to develop self-hate as a result), and when their personal flaws are pointed out to them, they get defensive and angry. They’re also more likely to get worked up about things (taking gentle criticism completely out of context, for instance.) Like Type Fives, Type Twos and Type Threes sometimes do things that are considered inappropriate, but because they are in the grip of some powerful passion and they aren’t thinking ahead.

Type Fours are most likely to explode in anger when their friends are attacked, whether physically (when Steve Rogers was being beaten up behind the theater, for instance) or verbally (if one character says something bad about another character), especially if the accusation is untrue or perceived to be untrue. They are more likely to lash out with words than physically, and when aroused can be just as verbally cutting as a Type One or a Type Five.

Type Ones and Fives are the deep thinkers. Type Ones tend to get angry about social injustice and similar issues, while a Type Five is more likely to go out and do something about it. (However, since Type Fives often tend to be “poorly socialized”, sometimes the things they do about injustice are either blown totally out of proportion or just generally inappropriate, though their solutions are almost never completely ineffective.) Both Type Ones and Type Fives are the most likely to work themselves up about things that may or may not be personal to them, but in a completely impersonal way. Type Fives almost never get angry because of a personal attack. Type Ones may get depressed over being attacked in a personal way, but they don’t retaliate. Type Fives are the most likely of any type to retaliate for any perceived wrongdoing, simply because they perceived it as a wrong and not out of any personal, emotional response. Type Fives always think ahead–in terms of logic, not generally accepted norms–and will reach conclusions and do things that make them appear to others as amoral, weird, or unfeeling. However, those conclusions, to them, make perfect sense, and they often react with surprise or confusion when informed that “People just don’t do that!” Type Fives will also go through with a logical course of action, even if it will have a negative impact on them. They aren’t unware that there will be consequences. They’ve simply weighed benefits against consequences and decided on (to them) an appropriate course of action.

As a result, it may seem like Type Fives don’t get angry, but they may simply not be showing that anger on the outside while their movements are calculated and driven by deep, elemental passion. If you have posed a threat, done something to, hurt, or otherwise upset to the friend of a Type Five (even one who, like Batman, won’t kill you,) you are done for. Prepare for your life to be made miserable. The perceived wrong may not have even particularly upset the friend. In the eyes of the Type Five, you are guilty and the logical conclusion is that you deserve to be punished.

Don’t simply assume that just because a character is male, or female, he or she will get angry in a certain way. Not only is that sexist, it’s also unrealistic, and lazy. (Very, very extremely lazy.) Character types are spread out among both genders, just as all personality types appear in both men and women (though, as a quick caveat, they do operate slightly differently in men than in women.) See this post for more information. Some women will get angry in a seemingly stereotypical way. Some will cry. Others will lash out verbally. Others will resort to cutting sarcasm, while still others will be silently plotting your demise. (On a side note and as a woman myself, I would advise you to simply not make women angry at all. There’s always the off chance that you’ve just insulted a Peggy Carter and you are about to DIE in a creative and impressive way.) Some men cry when they’re upset, too, though Society frowns on this and they try to hide it. (It’s really not shameful to cry, people. However, it’s the Types Two, Three, and Four that are most likely to know and accept this. Types One and Five are notorious for bottling it up inside in that infamous Stoic Hero way.)

Here ends Part One of this post. You might also want to check out WriteFury’s post on Myers-Briggs personality types as a characterization tool. For specific examples and more on how backstory drives characters’ emotions, check back in shortly to read Part Two. As always, thanks for reading, have a great day, and God Bless!

Not-Quite-Teens-Can-Write-Too: First Thing I Wrote

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arthurian legends, author, doctor who, editing, fantasy, fiction, novels, robin hood legends, science fiction, star wars, steampunk, story dynamics, writer, writing

The prompt was “What was the first thing you wrote of your own free will?”

Simple answer: I started when I was nine, writing a compilation (it was not a novel, too haphazard) of Robin Hood stories. It was poorly written, with choppy transitions, and too pleased-with-itself, and the humor was just shoved in randomly, not integrated.

Nevertheless, I had some fun with it.

Rewriting it today, I would have done it from Will Scarlet’s point of view, left out extraneous material I’d thrown in, and done a lot more research. (Watching Doctor Who has made a good impression on me. At least in that respect.)

The second thing I started to write, when I was eleven, was a complex and dedicated effort at overhauling the young people’s side of the Star Wars mythos–namely, I wrote about a Padawan Learner (different one in each trilogy.) It was essentially Jedi Apprentice, but much more ambitious. (I was eleven, and already writing at an eighth grade level. That might be hard to believe, but if you ignore the poor quality of the content and the horrible, choppy, obvious dialogue, it’s true.) This story had no central arc, being merely a series of short adventures (mind you, I had not started watching TV shows back then, so I had no real idea of how to write a story which could stand alone but also played into a larger plot. Kudos to you, Bad Wolf.) The first of these stories, in the original trilogy, starred an OC–not a Mary Sue, I am proud to say, but still horribly awkward. (I am considering rewriting some of the adventures into a separate novel that has no Star Wars affiliation, because some of these characters would fit ironically well into a steampunk setting. I recently discovered that I love steampunk, and science fiction, especially science fiction that takes its science seriously. Such a treat!)

I started a third novel a few years later about a mythical country and a young woman who had been kidnapped. This is the story that would eventually teach me that less is more, because her backstory got painfully complicated very quickly. Rewriting it today, I would make her less of a victim and more of a dynamic character with something to actually bring to the table (maybe she likes making shoes? That would be useful to the rebels!), and make her actually a real, honest-to-goodness peasant who had just been raised by her aunt and uncle, rather than a noble in disguise. Self-made nobles are far more interesting than born ones in many cases.

After that, I began work on a different angle on the Arthurian legends, which spun off into a novel about Mordred–my Mordred is a bit more like Batman, only with some anti-hero thrown in, a temper, and a vulnerable side–he desperately wants to be accepted by Arthur’s court, but he wants to be accepted for who he is, not as Arthur’s long-lost (illegitimate) son, and his best friend, Gawaine, can never find out that Mordred is really his half-brother (Morgause, in this story, is Mordred’s mother, but he was raised by his aunt Morgan.) Of course, it gets a bit violent–Mordred gets angry with Morgan and walks out on her when he turns fifteen, and of course it was acrimonious. Mordred decides to change his fate and is totally loyal to Arthur (he explains to his confidant Lady Lynnette, who is married to one of his half-brothers and found out Mordred’s secret by accident, “I don’t think of him as my father. That would be weird. I think of him as my king.”) but ends up having to make the choice between saving Arthur and stopping Morgan. Add in a bit of a dark sense of humor and there you are.

It’s not always been an easy or comfortable journey (bits of it were positively embarrassing,) but I’ve been glad to go on it, if it means improvement. Allons-y!

Thanks to Rosalie for starting up this alternative blog chain. She might think it’s awkward, but she deserves lots of hugs. You can find the launching post here.

This was completely unplanned…

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captain america, captain america: the first avenger, dan slott, haters can get off at the first stop, i believe in heroes, marvel, or i will gladly throw you overboard, peggy carter, steve rogers, stories, this is my ship, why heroes are important, writing

I was looking at Pinterest this morning, and I found something…

(TruthWillWin1, thought you might be interested!)

It appears that Dan Slott is just trying to be funny, but this struck me as deadly serious. (I have heard that Mr. Slott has a track record of trying to be funny, failing, and also failing to take the good of the story seriously.)

Yes, Steve Rogers would agree. Because that is Steve Rogers. Truly humble, because he knows all his own failings. He knows, deep down inside, that he is not perfect. He doesn’t try to be perfect. He just tries to be a good man, and sometimes, he finds himself lacking.

And, I would argue, that is why he’s the super soldier, and not Peggy.

Peggy Carter is, on a fundamental level, very different from Cap. (My sister and I actually discovered this fact by asking “What if Captain America was Cecelia “Celia” Rogers and what if Celia Rogers ‘survived’ the plane crash and was found and was present during the events of Agent Carter?” We realized that Peggy and the girl version of Cap are very different. Peggy is a woman in an man’s world who is proud of who she is and makes her way in that world without losing her femininity. On the other hand, Celia is not sure of who she is as a woman. She’s a good person, but does not know how to be ladylike, or how to be an adult woman, for that matter. She’s shy, and self-erasing, and wears blouses and skirts that don’t fit very well, and she isn’t really classically “pretty”–the effect the super soldier serum has on a woman’s body isn’t exactly what a lot of people would consider attractive. She doesn’t look like the Black Widow. She has a lot of defined muscle, and a larger rib cage but a smaller bust. Despite their different backstories, a lot of that does transfer across to Steve.)

Steve Rogers doesn’t go picking fights. He might “ask for it”, but he doesn’t start them. He speaks up, but when he’s not speaking up, he’s not noticed a lot. He’s not self-assured. He tends to question his own motives and actions–which is why Erskine picked him, because he is careful about what he’s contributing to. On the other hand, Peggy can be a bit rash at times, and she’s very self-assured, and while she sometimes questions, she doesn’t second-guess herself nearly as much as Steve does (to be just, I don’t think of them either really needs to second-guess themselves often, because they normally get it right the first time.) Steve doesn’t play up to anyone’s expectations, while Peggy acts up to those expectations so that people will underestimate her quite a bit. Steve is always completely honest and open, and while Peggy admires that, it’s not something that she can be in her line of work.

The world needs people like Steve Rogers to be themselves. (It also needs Bucky Barneses and Peggy Carters, filling their capacities, but right now, let’s focus on Steve.)

The whole reason that Erskine chose Steve was because Steve was already a hero in a small way. He was just giving Steve the ability to do it on another scale.

Also, I feel that when we suggest that Peggy could have ended the war so much sooner if she had been a super soldier, we are devaluing Peggy as she is!

She is a strong woman. She’s strong when Steve can’t be. Peggy doesn’t need the super soldier serum to make a change. She takes charge and steps in and doesn’t let them keep her out, and she’s way more successful at it than Steve.

In so many ways, while Steve is the hero the world looks to, Peggy is the hero Steve looks to. Peggy is smarter about her emotions than he is. He gets lost; she puts him back on track.

On the other hand, Peggy is aggressive, certainly much more aggressive than Steve is, and the serum tends to take your emotions and personality and past choices and push that into overdrive, so Peggy the super soldier might not be the same person that we know and love now. And maybe the war would have been over in half the time, but the ending might have been very different–and that might not have been a good thing. (Though, to be honest, if they could have found some way of stopping Hiroshima and Nagasaki from being bombed, I would get behind it–if it were ethical. The ends do NOT justify the means.)

In short, Peggy doesn’t need the serum. In a similar way that Steve Rogers doesn’t need the serum, true, except he isn’t as strong as she is, emotionally or possibly even physically. She’s just better at going far than he is, and that’s why he is the supersoldier and she is not–because he’s humble and will back out when they’re done with the fight, while she will go on to build SHIELD.

The world needs both Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter, in the roles they find themselves filling. The love story is perfect when each person can be truthfully said to be the other’s “better half.”

In closing, I can only say that I’m glad they did it the way they did. (Also, Mr. Slott, please pay more attention to the good of the story you are trying to tell. Maybe the fans would thank you then. And maybe reading a history book or two wouldn’t hurt, either!)

 

The Brooklyn Project: Situational Humor

Tags

c.s. forester, captain america: the winter soldier, colorblind, connor rawleigh, horatio hornblower, humor, indiana jones, nathaniel "nat" brachevis, star wars, writing, zombies

Oftentimes, you’ll come across a character who is, to quote Chris Evans, “not a funny guy.” At the same time, they clearly do have a sense of humor. And if you’re in an action story, most of the humor won’t be jokes, of the verbal or practical variety. Nine times out of ten, in an action/adventure flick, your hero won’t be the kind to tell or play jokes. Aside from a wry quip, you won’t hear anything “funny” from them.

What’s an author to do?

Humor is a vital tool, not only in keeping a story from getting too dark and intense, but also as a coping mechanism for the characters. Every story needs humor.

However, these not-so-funny characters often exercise their sense of humor in another way. Patricia C. Wrede, the author of the Phantom Menace young reader novelization, referred to it as “battle humor.”

You were right about one thing, Master. The negotiations were short. ~~Obi-Wan Kenobi, The Phantom Menace

A more commonly used word is “sarcasm.”

And what is sarcasm?

Basically, it’s poking fun at a situation. It’s a coping tool.

If they’re shooting at you they’re bad! ~~Steve Rogers, Captain America: The Winter Soldier

Oftentimes, this sort of snark will take a reader off-guard, but take them off-guard in a good way. Let’s use an example from my work-in-progress “Colorblind”: Connor and Nathaniel are pinned down by the bad guys, in a field. There’s practically no cover, and they will be entirely exposed when the sun comes up. The bad guys are taking pot-shots over their heads in an attempt to get them to jump out early. They are in very deep Trouble, with a capital “T.”

And then, Connor says, “I’m starting to think they just like shooting at dirt.” Nat gives him a rather odd look, to which Connor shrugs and says, “On the other hand, they could be just trying to use up excess ammunition.”

I don’t think it will get a lot of laughs, but that’s Connor for you. His sense of humor is a little off-target.

Nine times out of ten, an action hero won’t crack a joke. He will quip, however. His humor depends on the situation; his humor is really about telling the universe that he doesn’t care what sort of nonsense it drops on his head, he’ll deal with it and own it.

Like a boss.

So, situational humor.

Horatio Hornblower is well-known for this. I can’t think of one particular example at the moment, but a wry aside is something that just happens from time to time.

“Why are they still coming at us?” one grunt shouts in the zombie apocalypse. “I thought they were looking for brains!” (Yeah, this is only the second time I’ve mentioned zombies on this blog. Don’t get used to it.)

Also, if Indiana Jones does differently, please do not notify me. I’d rather not get any spoilers before I’ve seen the movie.

Oh, and late Happy Star Wars day. May the Force be with you–you’re gonna need it.

Thanks for reading, and God Bless!

The Brooklyn Project: Unsung Heroes

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agent carter, characters, heroes, j.r.r. tolkien, marvel, story dynamics, the brooklyn project, the lord of the rings, unsung heroes

Continuing from the last Brooklyn Project post.

Last time, I posted on heroism, the basic elements that all heroes must share, or come to share. Today, I’m posting on the unknown heroes, heroism that isn’t accepted.

It’s a not-often-realized truth that for every hero, there is someone who believes in him. However, in real life, many heroes never get more than just that someone. And even that someone may not know the truth of all that they’ve done; they simply believe.

It’s like praying in your closet and giving in secret; it does good, regardless or not if anyone knows that you did it. Indeed, to do good without anyone ever knowing is perhaps the very greatest thing of all.

However, most of the literature you will find today features heroes who do meet with applause. By the end of the book, everyone knows what they’ve done for the good of others. (Notable exception: at the end of the Agent Carter miniseries, the guys from Congress give all the credit to Thompson, who, by the way, is one of the best examples of a dynamic secondary character that I can give you. And Agent Thompson really did deserve the recognition, to an extent, in my opinion. Thompson’s awesomeness aside, Peggy is once again entirely overlooked. No one but the SSR agents involved know that she was the true hero of the hour. Admittedly, this doesn’t count because at least Peggy’s coworkers know of everything she’s done, but though Peggy has been fighting to be a strong woman in a man’s world through the entire series, she finds that she really doesn’t mind that no one gives her the recognition she really does deserve.) I think that the trend in literature towards heroes who are known is partly because we, as human beings, crave praise and recognition. However, in these cases, it is actually an example of our ability to step outside of ourselves rather than of our hunger for recognition; we want our heroes to be recognized. (One of the greatest reasons for literature’s existence is the human capacity to reach outside of ourselves in order to empathize, commiserate, and sympathize with others.)

I think the Lord of the Rings, while Frodo and Sam and the rest did have their actions recognized, was pretty good at this. Neither Frodo nor Sam ever really did expect to have their actions memorialized like they were. The thoughts they had of being in a story were more distant, held to keep their spirits up. Aragorn speaks to Eowyn of the unstoried heroes who they all may become, ultimately, should the threat of Sauron come to completion. Boromir was motivated in part by the glory of his home country, but in the end, he gave his life for two hobbits whom he had met mere months before, far from his home, before the larger war even began. The heroes of The Lord of the Rings acted not in the interest of glory, but because what they did had to be done; even if their world was to be enslaved, they’d die trying to stop Sauron from enslaving it.

Heroism is a curious thing. While it is somewhat based on the opinions of others, true heroism is the heroism that nobody ever sees.

Thanks for reading, Brooklyn Project followers, and God Bless! (If you like what you see, don’t forget to drop by my Brooklyn Project page and check it out–we’re always open for new recruits! 😀 )

The Brooklyn Project: Protagonist-Centered Morality and the Double Standard

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accountability, ben hur, character development, characters, dynamic characters, ladyhawke, responsibility, story dynamics, the brooklyn project

Continuing from my first post on protagonist-centered morality; scroll to the bottom and you’ll find the comment from Sarahtps that inspired this post. I’ve also probably posted on this before, but who cares, you can never have enough character development posts. 😉

How annoying is someone who spouts preachy nonsense without following it in real life? … yeah, that’s what I thought you’d all say. ;-P This is another reason why protagonist-centered morality deserves to be ditched; it creates a double standard. Otherwise known as you-just-made-your-hero/anti-hero-a-hypocrite. And somewhere in the world, there is a reader who will call you on it. There are multiple readers who will hate on your hard-written book because of it.

Simply put, even if your heroes (well, only anti-heroes do this; real, actual heroes don’t,) don’t hold themselves to the standards they hold others to, you should.

If your hero breaks a rule and doesn’t feel any remorse for it, have karma come back to bite them in the posterior for it. Even if they later do feel remorse, do not hesitate to let the universe at large slap them silly for it. Temporal punishment is a thing, you know (and if you have never heard that term before, you are not a very-well-catechized-Christian and I can tell you what it is on demand. ;-P )

A good example of this would be in the case of the antagonist(s) in Ben-Hur; Massada ends up almost dying in a chariot race and then being permanently crippled, almost as a direct result of his abuse of Judah’s mother and sister, and Iras, the woman who betrays Judah earlier in the book, is stuck taking care of the now-utterly-boring Massada. (She tries to play the pity card with Judah, but she dug herself into that pit and he knows, I think, that the only way for her to ever redeem herself is not by attempting to seduce him but rather taking care of Massada. However, I think it’s pretty clear that she and Massada will eat at each other with their words until he gets her executed or she poisons him out of spite. Sorry, it’s been a while since I read it…)

I’m trying to recall the title of the book and names of the characters I had in mind while writing this post, but for some reason they continuously slip my mind. The story featured a redeemed thief who was continually held back from trying to be a hero due to his past… maybe it was Ladyhawke? Though that’s a movie, not a book…

Actions have consequences (I’m certain you’ve heard this before in much less polite terms.) Don’t forget that, and don’t let your heroes forget it, either. Even if they don’t hold themselves to the standard, it falls to you to hold them to it.

Protagonist-centered morality and double standards make Mary Sues. À bas les Sues!

The Brooklyn Project: Protagonist-Centered Morality and Why it’s Bad

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accountability, baroness orczy, bbc merlin, bbc sherlock, captain america, captain america: the first avenger, captain america: the winter soldier, character development, characters, dynamic characters, editing, harry potter, heroes, marvel, marvel superheroes, star wars, story dynamics, the brooklyn project, the scarlet pimpernel, undo the sue, writing

Sometimes, an author will become so preoccupied with his or her hero or heroine that they can do no wrong–even when they are. The rules bend for these protagonists. And people in the stories (and occasionally the reader as well) see nothing wrong with this.

This can potentially lead to the creation of a Mary Sue.

Protagonist-centered morality is bad because it takes away the possibility of accountability as well. If your hero does something wrong, you want it to have repercussions. They can’t just get away with a slap on the hand! It reinforces to the reader that the hero has done something wrong, and it also makes for deeper characters. If the hero has slipped up once, they have to fight harder to even be allowed to do it right the next time..

On the other hand, if you don’t add responsibility, your protagonist can become spoiled and obnoxious (as in real life) or unrealistically angelic (sickening.) The latter would make him/her a Mary Sue, no matter how many de-Sue-ifiers you threw in to try and balance it (without removing the lack of accountability.)

Apart from the message that it sends, that it’s okay to do bad things, it’s bad for the story at large.

I’m trying to think of a few examples, but all I can think of is that, though in the final cut, we never see the response to Steve’s failed attempts to enlist, falsifying information, I think there was actually a scene planned where someone found out and didn’t trust Steve for a while. They just didn’t officially tell anyone because if they did he’d be court-martialed and they couldn’t have that. In the planned Howling Commandos fanfic that I’m writing, I was going to have one of the people in the USO show tour find out and hold it over Steve. There are, however, strong consequences when Steve fails to predict that the train is a trap and save Bucky, even if it’s not technically his fault.

Another example would be the BBC show Merlin. While, all around, this is generally a good show, the BBC slipped up a bit (for once); this show displays a bit of protagonist-centered morality. Though, later on, they add more consequences, even to past actions, early in the show there are a few episodes where Merlin slips up and gets away with it. However, for the show’s other protagonist, Arthur, there are always consequences to his actions. Inconsistent much? Or just waiting around? *sigh* I wish they’d done it earlier on.

In the BBC show Sherlock, we’re actually hoping to see protagonist-centered morality blown out of the water; at the very end of the last season, Sherlock killed someone, point-blank, in cold blood (attempting not to give spoilers here); we want to see how people react to this. There’s always mistrust, and rightly so, after something like that.

In Star Wars, Obi-Wan’s attempt to distance himself, to not become emotionally involved, backfires when Anakin turns to the dark side; Obi-Wan’s aloof affection was simultaneously too much and not enough.

Captain America: The Winter Soldier comes with a thorough message about accountability (where Civil War is essentially about people’s Constitutional rights, from what I’ve heard). This is especially true for Natasha, who risks, in a selfless action that proves she is capable, no matter what she (and incidentally, Hydra) thinks, of heroism, she spills all her dirty secrets across the Internet in order to bring Hydra down (again, trying to avoid spoilers.) Ironically, this bypasses the same failsafe that Hydra thought would protect them; they insist that Natasha (or anyone, really) wouldn’t incriminate herself like that.

From what I’ve heard, Harry Potter is really bad about this–it sounds like he consistently breaks rules of both the magician and human world without any consequences.

One very good book that could make better use of accountability (without outright protagonist-centered morality) that I love is “The Scarlet Pimpernel.” Except for Marguerite, the book doesn’t use it quite as well as it could…

Accountability. Use it for deeper character.

Thanks for reading, and God Bless!