Broken People
I am working on my new Nocturne . . . and my editor reminded me that the hero should be very "alpha." There is much talk in the romance biz of alpha hereos and beta heroes, and heroines of this type or that. But I tend not to follow any of that. I think of all my heroes and heroines as broken people.
We are all a bit broken. On the surface, if we're well-adjusted and happy people, we don't look it. But sit down and really examine our lives and all we've been through--good and bad--and chances are you'll find some broken parts. The little dent in our heart where our first betrayal left a gash, or the old scar from unkind words uttered by someone important to us.
If we're not well-adjusted and happy (I tend to consider that I AM well-adjusted, if a bit eccentric), our broken parts will be right there on the surface. The prickly person who loses his or her temper too quickly over something utterly stupid. Or the drunk who goes on a nasty rant (Mel Gibson anyone?).
My hero in The Gemini Conspiracy is a recovering Vicodin addict who lost his daughter to a drunk driver and his wife to the depths of grief. My heroine has post-traumatic stress disorder, but has pulled herself up from the hell she went through in foster care. They are each very strong individuals. And the key thing is their broken parts fit each other like a puzzle. They simply go together.
That approach works for me much better than writing a "type." Because a "type" can lead to cliche or can lead to characters who don't live and breathe and don't function in any organic sense.
But broken . . . broken I understand.
And you all?
We are all a bit broken. On the surface, if we're well-adjusted and happy people, we don't look it. But sit down and really examine our lives and all we've been through--good and bad--and chances are you'll find some broken parts. The little dent in our heart where our first betrayal left a gash, or the old scar from unkind words uttered by someone important to us.
If we're not well-adjusted and happy (I tend to consider that I AM well-adjusted, if a bit eccentric), our broken parts will be right there on the surface. The prickly person who loses his or her temper too quickly over something utterly stupid. Or the drunk who goes on a nasty rant (Mel Gibson anyone?).
My hero in The Gemini Conspiracy is a recovering Vicodin addict who lost his daughter to a drunk driver and his wife to the depths of grief. My heroine has post-traumatic stress disorder, but has pulled herself up from the hell she went through in foster care. They are each very strong individuals. And the key thing is their broken parts fit each other like a puzzle. They simply go together.
That approach works for me much better than writing a "type." Because a "type" can lead to cliche or can lead to characters who don't live and breathe and don't function in any organic sense.
But broken . . . broken I understand.
And you all?
posted by Erica Orloff at 9:34 PM
9 Comments:
No wonder I love your characters so much!
I don't know. I went through a lot growing up, and even in my twenties. It made me stronger, and even more of a rock to my friends. Then one day came that last straw on the camel's back. It wasn't anything even close to as bad as my history, but I felt like it snapped my spirit in two.
Funny, how life works that way.
I was trying to figure out what "hot buttons" my characters might have. You know, those issues that just set people off, even irrationally at times?
I've met a lot of broken people, Erica, and more often than not they're very good at putting up a facade, what one famous poet calls the "public face." It's a defense mechanism. In their daily dealings with other people, they laugh and smile and act as though all is well. Yet under the surface lies deep, dark, and scary secrets that only their lovers or close friends (or sometimes nobody) ever know about. I think the most compelling characters harbor such secrets, secrets only revealed during extreme stress or while intoxicated in one way or another.
Hannibal Lecter is a good example (most people don't like the book *Hannibal* that followed *Silence of the Lambs*, but it's actually a marvelous and horrible glimpse into the psyche of a monster). For most characters in novels--and for most real people--what we see on a daily basis is only the tip of the ice berg (to borrow a metaphor from another famous writer I admire). I think it pays to know why our characters are broken, even if their secrets aren’t fully revealed in the course of a narrative.
BTW, I think it's marvelous that you don't type your characters according to genre convention. In any genre, rising above convention and expectation is one path to what we commonly refer to as art. Some writers are happy to just do what's expected and cash their paychecks. You, my dear, are an artist. Rock steady.
spyscribbler:
Thanks! I think sometimes in life we just reach a limit to pain and frustration. Then we have a choice of still walking through and becoming yet stringer, or . . . making other choices. I think that journey as humans is what makes us all so interesting. I think, therein, is also a great literary hook. The family man driven to kill when his family is in danger, or the man who, even though it means an unhappy end, is driven to find out if he deceased wife is having an affair (Constant Gardener--plus several other books and movies I can think of). Why? What compells them? That is what makes in interesting book to me.
Hi Jude:
I will never forget the day I was in church, and behind me sat a woman who was like the "cupcake mom." She brought in fresh-baked goods to every even and had three little boys. As boys go, they squirmed. As kids go, so did mine. That's kids in church. It was crowded--a children's camp presentation with singing and stuff--and then I heard her, clear as a bell, tell her kindergarten son, "Stop wriggling around before I punch your teeth down your throat." SWEAR TO GOD! After that day, I thought her the most vile human being. But that's the glimpse into the ugly. You don't know what lurks beneath the facade a lot of times.
And thanks, Jude. Sometimes I feel as if I work in the arts. Sometimes I feel like I dig in manure. :-)
E
Erica,
Broken people! Wonderful.
I don't know if you remember, but Christian Marbach, my detective character, is a heavy drinker and was abused in childhood. He wants to right the wrongs done to him through his involvement with being an ex-NY cop and then as a private eye. He always sees the world under the lens of skepticism. My latest novel is about him and I've ramped up that isssue a lot.
Broken people, Erica, are the people who always make a mark in the world. you are a fine thinker for knowing that. Your novel sounds captivating, by the way.
Gerry
Hi Erica, making choices, broken people - no wonder I love your blog - there is always, always something incredibly thought provoking here. For me, what makes it all so interesing (both life and writing) is the choices people actually do make in both real life and fiction.
I write a mystery series and one of the things that fascinated me as it progressed was how my recurring characters developed; none of this was conscious on my part, it simply happened as I wrote the books...one of them had fear of abandonment issues, one had huge resentments toward a family he'd not seen in years and one of them began to realize the values she'd lived with all her life were absurd. What was interesting to me was that none of these decisions were conscious on my part - they just seemed to happen naturally. Did I find these issues deep in my own psyche - probably, at least in part. But a large part came from watching the world and the way all of us struggle just to survive. Are my characters broken? You bet, otherwise they'd be dull as dishwater! Let's face it, well adjusted is pretty boring..
Gerry:
Christian seemed very broken to me--and yet stronger for having been broken. I think those are the kinds of characters I like best.
E
Emily:
That's really the fun of writing, sometimes, stepping back when it's done and seeing how these themes emerged.
E
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