A Working List of Terrible Character Motivations

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I was soaking in the tub last night and pondering how to motivate two of my characters to go where I wanted them to go in my novel’s new chapter. Instead of logical or even decent ideas, the only ones that came to mind were paper thin. They practically scream, “You’ll go here because I told you to!” Like stubborn children, of course, they dug in their heels and refused.

So I decided to amuse them with a list of the worst, hackneyed, or borrowed motivations instead. The good news is they must have been fairly amused because a good idea decided to come along, too. So, for your amusement, I present the best of the worst.

They go to (place):

  • because three ghosts–past, present, and future–visited them in the night.
  • because they made the Kessel run in 12 parsecs.
  • because a group of Nazis shot his father in the stomach, and he has to use the Holy Grail to save his life.
  • because Shia LaBeouf saw it in a comic once.
  • because he has Dead Pool’s/Wolverine’s healing factor and can’t be killed.
  • because he just found out that he is the last of a near invincible race.
  • because he volunteered as tribute.
  • because he hopes his vampire and wolf boyfriends will be there–even though he can’t choose between them.
  • because, sorry, Mario, but your Princess is in another castle.
  • because he bought a junker car that, to his surprise, can transform into a robot.
  • because when he checked the killer’s hook was still hanging from the door…
  • because he’s getting the band back together.
  • because he’s about to crack this case wide open.
  • because it was a dark and stormy night.
  • because: “KHAAAAAAAAAAAN!”

Behind the Scenes: Creating Your Palette

Painters would never dream of putting brush to canvas without first mixing their paint, yet writers often begin a draft of a scene with little planning. If they are anything like me, writing is a creative rush, a thrilling ride into the unknown. It’s a little like hang gliding without scouting a landing spot first.

Plenty of times spontaneous writing works. You run down after an idea or fleeting image

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Learn to get it right ... before you write.

and discover the world deepens and plot expands like magic. Of course for every story like Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery” there are so many false starts, sputtering middles, and weak endings.

Especially in a novel, where readers expect scenes tie into others and foreshadowing pays off, the chance of failure increases exponentially. Writers who hope to be productive can’t waste fifty pages on a series of failed chapters. You don’t have to get it exactly right the first time, but there is a method to ensure that first draft hits close to the mark.

Define the scene’s purpose: What is the goal of the scene? Who needs to be present, and are there too many or too few people in the scene? (Hint: scenes with only one character present need to have compelling action.) What needs to happen? How does it move the story forward to expand the story’s world?

Location: Where will the scene take place? Is that the best, most dramatic place? I almost never use the first setting that comes to mind. A great location creates mood, conveys emotion, and can give your characters life. It’s critical so come up with something better than what you thought of immediately.

Envision the scene: Create a list of details, including how important items in the scene look, taste, feel, sound, and smell. Whenever the scene feels thin, like it needs more sensory information, refer to this list and use the best, most relevant one.

Point-of-view: Even better, how does each character feel about the place and the details? One may love the place and find the sights and smells enjoyable. Maybe the other doesn’t.

Example: In my novel The Sugarmaker’s Son and short story “Heartwood” several major scenes take place in the family’s sugarhouse, where they boil maple sap to make syrup. Often the scenes were shifted outside of the building or set to different activities in the sugarhouse to create variation. The protagonist Teddy Robinson brings enthusiasm in the earlier scenes, sullen anger in the middle ones, and desperation just before the climax. As his attitude changes, his feelings about the setting changes as well. To begin with a clear idea of what needs to happen and who needs to be present gives that palette of sensory details thousands of variations I could use. Any detail Teddy noticed filtered through his emotion, so does the same detail when experienced by his brother or friends.

Doesn’t this take all of the spontaneity out of writing? Not in my experience. It gives the creative mind endless room to explore … and discover.

Become an Overnight Success (in Fifteen Years)

Shirley Jackson wrote her best-known story “The Lottery” in one draft after a long walk. It was featured in the New Yorker and anthologized countless times.

Stephanie Meyer says the idea for Twilight came to her in a dream and took just three months to write, according to a blog by Literary Agent Nathan Bransford. An editor read the draft on an airplane and as soon as it touched down she frantically called Meyer’s agent to buy the manuscript before someone else could. Meyer had never written before attempting Twilight.

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(Courtesy of National Geographic.)

“It’s tempting to think all it takes is

an idea and a wisp of effort. Very tempting indeed,” Bransford writes. “The truth is a lot more banal: It takes a lot of work.”

More often the path to any real success comes only after late nights and early mornings, failed stories and novels, and fizzled attempts to connect with readers. Good writing, likewise, just seems effortless. Most writers refine their scenes moment by moment, like needlework, to capture the story exactly.

I’m not at all surprised that Sara Gruen, someone I had assumed was an overnight success, is not one at all.

She was a laid off technical writer when she turned to writing fiction. Water for Elephants, her breakthrough novel, was her third and her previous publisher rejected it. I’m sure there were nights when she thought about giving up writing, moments of frustration that interviewers usually don’t ask about.

When I read …Elephants, I assumed it was just a lucky break. I should have known the old cliche is still true: luck is just hard work meeting opportunity.

Anything worth doing isn’t easy. If you want to be a writer or any kind of artist, take the time to hone your craft in a class or in a group. Work on your own. Meet people and learn how others have become successful. Most of all, practice to discover what your vision will add and what will make you distinctive.

I leave you with Branson’s final thought:

Each journey is our own, and we’re all the better for it. Rather than wishing for lightning to strike quickly, it’s better to enjoy seeing it flash in the distance and know that our time will come.