Hi folks,
I recently received an email from emerging
writer Ashley Gaumond who asked a couple of really good questions and I thought
I’d answer them here as I’m sure there are others who visit here who might have
the same questions.
Ashley
asks:
1.
Does a short prologue have to follow the standard rule for a scene (goal,
conflict, disaster)?
My answer: Well, first of all, as a
general rule, I don’t believe most prologs are useful or necessary. In general,
I find that at least from beginning writers, most are created because they’ve
been told they shouldn’t begin a novel with backstory and setup, and they’ve
found an all-consuming need to provide… backstory and setup. If they call it a “prolog”
they feel they’ve dodged the rule… That doesn’t mean that all prologs are bad,
and occasionally we’ll see one that works and works well. But… that’s only occasionally. At least, in my
experience. I think if you’ll look at the ones that get published you’ll often
find that if they were left out, it didn’t affect the book adversely at all.
In Hooked, I talk about prologs a bit, and use the example of Larry
Watson’s wonderful novel, Montana, 1948.
It’s an absolute terrific book and he has a well-written prolog. But, I don’t
think it was needed at all. Mostly what it did was… provide backstory/setup.
Which did nothing for the book, to be honest. I think a lot of writers—especially
newer writers—think they make a novel look like… a novel. They just kind of
look “official” or something. Most are written in kind of a melodramatic style—the
tone being—“Here’s a person who has undergone something really heavy and
emerged sadder, yet wiser.” That kind of thing. Well, if you just read the
novel sans the prolog and it’s written well, you’ll probably emerge from the
experience feeling, “This was a person who underwent something really heavy and
emerged sadder, yet wiser.” Without the nudge of a prolog… It just seems to me
that prologs written for that reason are pretty much saying the author doesn’t
trust the reader’s intelligence to grasp that without the author pointing it
out in the beginning.
As to your question, does it have to
follow the standard rule for a scene, why would it? Most prologs aren’t scenes
to begin with—they’re the internal monologue of the character or purportedly an
outside judge of the events to come—and while some may contain a scene—which by
necessity is a past event and therefore nearly tensionless—most are kind of a
sermonette delivered to convince the reader that what they’re about to
experience is… emotional and powerful. Personally,
I kind of take offense to someone telling me how I’m supposed to react to the
read. It feels like they're telling me I need to feel guilty if I don't experience what they told me I would after reading it.
And, some people love ‘em.
I’m just not one of those people.
Convince me your novel is a big deal by the writing itself.
Ashley
asks:
Regarding
antagonists, can every character except for the POV character serve as an
antagonist at some stage in a novel (even the "good" ones)? I see an
antagonist simply as someone (not just a villain!) who challenges the
protagonist at any given time.
My answer: First, I’d like to
provide a definition for the protagonist and the antagonist. The protagonist is
simply the person through whose viewpoint you experience the story. The
antagonist is simply the individual whose goals conflict with those of the
protagonist’s. In my view, it’s a really big mistake to view either of these people in moral
terms, i.e., the protagonist as “hero” and the antagonist as “villain.” Same
applies to that dumb term, the “M.C”. It’s not the “main character” boobies—it’s
the protagonist. This is simple stuff, kids… What happens when you do that is
you tend to create one-dimensional, cardboard characters. Cartoons. Snidely
Whiplash vs Snidely Doright. Yuch. I see these kinds of terms used often in
writer’s advice and I really have a jones against them. When you begin to think
of your characters as heroes and villains, you’ve just dumbed down the story
immensely, in my opinion. You’ve almost completely destroyed the possibility of
complex characters with that kind of mindset. In the worst instance, you’ve
created a morality tale and, as Samuel Goldwyn said to a screenwriter who
brought him a screenplay with a moral “message”: “Don’t send a message. Write a
story. If you want to send a message, use Western Union. They’re much better at
it. Just write a good story.” Perfectly said.
This is the kind of thinking that
led years ago to that term “anti-hero.” If you think of protagonists simply as
the person through whose viewpoint you experience the story, all that morality
goes out the window as utter nonsense. The term “anti-hero” comes about as a
subset of thinking in terms of heroes and villains, good vs evil. So, if a
writer creates a protagonist who is seen in terms of good vs bad and they’re “bad”
then they’re an antihero. Fairly infantile and limited thinking in literary
terms. Just my opinion, but it’s the only one I have…
And, you can’t write a good story if
it’s simply “good guy vs bad guy.” That’s just junk writing. That’s Snidely tying
Nell to the railroad tracks and Dudley rescuing her… Again… yuch… Cartoon stuff
for Saturday morning on the floor in your jammies… Junk food for the mind. Nothing to see here folks--move along...
Before I completely answer your
question, Ashley, here’s what a story consists of.
1. A protagonist who has an
experience that profoundly changes his/her life and therefore creates a story
problem. (And the only place for a contemporary, publishable story to begin
with. Probably not with a prolog that provides an outline of what's to come, attendant with a drum roll warning you as to the coming emotion you'll experience...)
2. His/her struggle to resolve that
problem against increasing obstacles and opposition.
3. His/her resolution to that
problem, containing both a win and a loss in that resolution.
Okay. Notice I made protagonist
singular. That’s because it has to be one person. If there is more than one,
the reader’s interest is hopelessly diffused. We see clearly one person. We don’t
see two or more, at least not clearly. A book about capitalism vs communism won’t
work if it’s about the U.S. army vs the Chinese Communist army. If, however, it’s
about the commanding general of the U.S. army vs his counterpart of the Chinese
army, then, yes, it can work. Or a private in each army vs his counterpart in
the other. Whatever. When I see work that tries to do that, I know instantly
that this writer has put the cart before the horse. He or she is thinking in
terms of “theme.” And, for writers, theme is something that should be thought
of only after the first draft is done. It’s at that point that we figure out
what the story is about in terms of loglines, which is what a theme actually
is, and then apply that to the rewrite. Check any issue of TV Digest for themes... Anything that doesn’t fit the theme
upon rewrite needs to be exorcised. But, it’s not something a writer should
even consider when writing initially. Just write a story.
And, the antagonist should be a
single person as well. Same reason. We can’t visualize multiple people nearly
as well as we can an individual. Does that mean there can’t be others who oppose
the protagonist? Not at all. There can be many, many people who provide
opposition… and there probably should be. But… they’re not antagonists. They’re
merely people who do antagonistic things.
Here’s the perfect example—the film Thelma & Louise. The protagonist is
Thelma. Contrary to what some might think, she and Louise aren’t “co-protagonists.”
It’s Thelma’s story. Louise is along for the ride and experiences many of the
same things Thelma does, but it’s Thelma’s story, all the way. Louise, if you
want to assign arch-types, is the “Older Mentor” type. She’s not really older—they’re
the same age in the movie, but she’s the one with more experience. Her story is
necessary but it’s subservient to Thelma’s.
Now. The antagonist. When I show
this movie, I usually ask the audience who they think the antagonist is. Very
few get this right and that’s because largely they haven’t learned to think of
story with the writer’s eye. The usual answer I get is her husband Darryl.
Well, Darryl ain’t the antagonist. He does antagonistic things, but he just
plain ain’t the antagonist. The second-most-common answer is Harlan, the
would-be rapist who Louise shoots and kills. Again, not. The antagonist is Hal
the cop. Darryl is Snidely Whiplash. So is Harlan. As are most of the other men
in the story. Just a bunch of guys who do antagonistic things but aren’t the
antagonist.
Look at the definition of the
antagonist. He’s the individual whose goals conflict with those of the
protagonist. Which is exactly what Hal does. Thelma wants to escape—Hal wants
to catch her. Nothing moral in this. In fact, Hal is the nicest guy in the
entire story. He only wants to catch Thelma to save her—first, from being
charged falsely in Harlan’s murder and next to save her life. If Callie Khouri
(the screenwriter) had thought in terms of “heroes and villains” she probably
would have come up with what my wife Mary calls a “chasey-fighty movie” and
gone direct to video if it would have been made at all. It’s because Khouri
doesn’t think in those terms, but with the correct definitions of protagonist
and antagonists. Her protagonist has a problem and her antagonist wants to
thwart her resolution of that problem. It’s that simple. And, yet, creating
characters under that definition leads to incredibly complex characters and
situations.
And, yes, there are all kinds of
characters in the story who do bad things to Thelma. But, only one person is
above and beyond all others as the antagonist. The other characters—Darryl, Harlan,
the truck driver, the state cop, et al—all do things to thwart Thelma but they are
all limited in their opposition. Hal is the one who remains steadfast during
the entire story to thwart Thelma’s goal—escape. And, he also satisfies the
dimensions of a great antagonist—he is very, very powerful. He's very smart, has years of
experience in catching criminals, has almost unlimited resources—state police,
FBI, helicopters, dozens if not hundreds of pursuit vehicles, many, many guns,
communication abilities—it goes on and on. The strength of a novel depends on
the strength of the antagonist. You should write that down. I’ll repeat it: The strength of a novel depends on the
strength of the antagonist. There are lots of writing “rules” that aren’t
always necessary, but that’s one that really always holds true. Think of
classics like The Silence of the Lambs.
One of the most powerful antagonists in literary history. Think of Cape Fear. Personally, I’d spend far
more time on the antagonist than even the protagonist. And, I’d always make
that an individual. And, supply lots of other characters who also do
antagonistical things to the protagonist. They’re allowed to have helpers and
should have many of those.
So, Ashley, the antagonist is not “someone
(not just a villain!) who challenges the protagonist at any given time.” It’s
the individual who provides a constant obstacle to the protagonist all of the time on an up close-and-personal
level.
So, please don’t think of these
folks as “heroes and villains.” That’s kind of a good path to self-publication
as the only avenue to seeing your book in print…
Hope that helps!
Blue skies,
Les
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