When Bad Things Happen to Good Protagonists

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine

Perfection is boring, said more than one writer and even more readers. We can appreciate perfection, of course, as in a gorgeous sunset.  But when we're seeking to be entertained, it's all about the imperfection of things going badly for the hero.

No one seeks hardship upon themselves, and when given the choice we will choose the lesser of two evils. Our hero has the same instinct for self-preservation, so he/she will try to avoid trouble at all cost. Which is why problems must be thrust upon them, usually by someone with an opposing agenda.    

"Good people do not need laws to tell them to act responsibly," said Plato, "while bad people will find a way around the laws." This great forefather of fiction knew that characters with a propensity for doing bad are good at creating conflict for a sympathetic hero. When trouble strikes as a result of an outside force, our innocent victim is considered a passive protagonist.

On the other hand — just as in real life — trouble can be self-inflicted, caused by the hero's own carelessness, bad judgment, stubbornness, or other misstep. This active protagonist can attract adversity, if only via good intentions gone wrong. They had set out to accomplish something, only to have it go awry.

In general, writers are told to avoid the passive protagonist because readers don't invest themselves as readily in a hero who things merely happen to. They wish to identify with someone who wants something and is intent on getting it.

The ideal plot, it would seem, will star an active protagonist capable of causing his own calamity (the archetypical flawed hero), only to be further thwarted by an equally active antagonist who brings even more tribulation to the table. Our poor imperfect protagonist can't get a break. They have an enemy but can also be their own worst enemy.

The goal is to pile on however much misfortune it takes to convince the reader that all is lost; that there's no possible way the hero is going to come out on top. They will, of course. But it's all the stumbles threatening that victory which keep the reader turning the page, since trouble — no matter who's causing it — is just plain interesting.

Gone But Not Forgotten

by Gary Fearon, Creative Director, Southern Writers Magazine


(Warning: may contain spoilers)

You gotta love this title.

A good protagonist is like a good friend.  Over time we get attached to them as if they were members of the family.  So when writers decide to kill them off, a little piece of us dies with them.

The Grim Reaper is no stranger to series like House of Cards, The 100, Game of Thrones and, like the title implies, The Walking Dead.  Cop shows and mysteries feature death in virtually every episode, but when the deceased is a fan favorite, it's a shocking turn of events.

In a recent conversation with a writer friend, I was mourning the loss of a primary character on one of the few dramas I follow, The Blacklist. After my rant, they in turn bemoaned the impending doom soon to befall a key character on a drama they follow just as avidly.  All of this is on the heels of the recent blockbuster Batman vs Superman, in which a beloved character meets their demise.

Meanwhile, here I am, still getting over Edith Bunker dying on an episode of Archie Bunker's Place in 1980.

I also never figured out why it was necessary to kill off Dan Conner in the final 1997 episode of Rosanne, when it was already going off the air.  But then again, Rosanne was often funny that way. Or not funny that way.

Getting rid of a main character on a TV series is sometimes the result of a pregnancy, a contract dispute, or some other irreconcilable difference.  Fortunately, writers of book series don't get painted into such corners with actors, so literary deaths have a bit more intentionality to them.  It seems the more dystopian the setting, the more likely it is that one or more of the good guys won't make it to the last installment.

No matter the medium, extinguishing a popular character is a bold move.  More than one author has faced backlash from angry readers afterwards.  J.K. Rowling alone has made postmortem apologies all but an annual tradition. As far back as 1893, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle felt the brunt of a perturbed public when he killed off Sherlock Holmes. The outcry was so loud that he soon resurrected the storied sleuth.

If a main character must die, it should further the plot and not be merely for shock value (or publicity). If it provides fodder for subsequent episodes that deal with finding the person's killer, for example, at least they did not die in vain.  The bereaved audience will find solace and satisfaction as justice is sought and served.

At the very least, the impact a character death has on the reading or viewing public must be given appropriate consideration.  They need time to grieve, so let them attend the funeral, hear the recollections of the deceased's friends and family, and basically say goodbye in their own way.

Since there are innumerable ways to bury a protagonist, the pen is indeed mightier than the sword.  If you should find yourself with a good reason to try it in your novel, proceed with caution, but be encouraged by those who've gone before you.  Obviously some writers are making a killing doing it.

The Value of a Good Bad Guy

by Gary Fearon, Southern Writers Creative Director

Captain Hook.  Long John Silver.  Hannibal Lecter.  Darth Vader.  The Wicked Witch of the West.  Dracula.  What do these, and countless other villains from literature and movies, have in common?  Yes, they all talk kinda funny.  But more importantly, each one is infinitely more intriguing than the hero of the story.

Nothing against Peter Pan, Luke Skywalker or our little runaway from Kansas, but the truth is, you could rewrite pretty much every one of these classics and put any character in the protagonist's seat, and the antagonist would still steal the show. 

A memorable villain can take a tale to epic proportions, even if the hero is an everyday Joe, or a boring do-gooder.  Did anyone ever really cheer for Dudley Do-Right?

Even if you've never read the book or seen the movie, you can probably tell me more about the whale in Moby Dick than you can the hero of that story.  Which would be whom, by the way?  Captain Ahab?  Ishmael?  It hardly matters, because either one is a mere sardine compared to the dramatic power of the great white whale.  Readers had to wade through too much information about the fishing industry when all they really wanted was a good shipwreck.

Despite all his cool transportation and wonderful toys, where would Batman really be without bigger-than-life archenemies to go to bat with?  Superheroes become superheroes by conquering supervillains. It's always disappointing when a bad guy in those stories is just a common street thug.  Even Dick Tracy was given crooks who at least looked weird.

A Joker for every generation: Cesar Romero (1966). Jack Nicholson (1989) and Heath Ledger (2008)

And it was only half in jest that I brought up villains having odd speech patterns. Silence of the Lamb's Hannibal Lecter's intensely calculated articulation contributed greatly to his manner of menace.  One feels he's so high above us on the intelligence scale that he can suck our mind right out of us.  The cackling of a witch or the grunts of a monster define them as creatures from our nightmares.  At the very least, a foreign accent tends to take us out of our own turf and into unfamiliar territory.

Not that every hero pales in comparison to his foes.  Indiana Jones's charisma and humor managed to outshine every nemesis. James Bond steals the screen no matter who's trying to shake and stir him. Name just about any detective or mystery series and the writer has taken care to give that hero or heroine enough personality to carry story after story.  But a memorable villain only makes it better.

The bottom line is, a good bad guy is good to find.  No matter who the star of your story is, give them a villain so unique and bigger than life that when your protagonist conquers them, they will earn the title of hero.

Putting the Pro in Protagonist

by Gary Fearon, Southern Writers Magazine Creative Director


Writers often use the words "protagonist" and "hero" interchangeably, and for good reason.  If we look at the actual definitions, we can see why:

PROTAGONIST: The leading character in a drama, movie, novel, or other fictional text.

HERO: A person who is admired for their courage or noble qualities.

When we create the lead character in our story, we want it to be someone the audience likes, respects, and cares about.  We do that best by giving the protagonist heroic qualities.

Not to say that our lead needs to leap tall buildings in a single bound, nor do they even need to leave the house.  They need only possess one or more character traits our audience will look up to.  We admire a character who's witty, smart, talented, or humane—basically the same qualities we like to see in people, not to mention ourselves.

We've all read books or seen movies where the main character was none of these things.  Actually, we probably never finished those books and we turned the channel when we realized the protagonist was someone we simply didn't find likable or relatable, someone we didn't care to spend the next two hours or three hundred pages with.

One of the few movies I ever walked out on was a 1990s flick by a well-known director in which the protagonist had multiple personalities.  The subject matter looked interesting enough, but it only took twenty minutes of this guy going back and forth between annoying personas possessing no redeeming qualities among them, for me to decide to sneak into a showing of 3 Ninjas instead.  Had the protagonist done anything to make someone care about what happened to him, I might have stuck around.  But in this case, he wasn't a hero, but merely the central figure of the story.

I never think about protagonists without remembering Blake Snyder's terrific book on story creation, Save the Cat!, which spells out the importance of having your main character do something "nice" early on so that the audience will bond with him/her.  This is something we can accomplish even for an antihero.  In fact, many a protagonist starts out as a self-consumed, errant figure, which makes their character arc that much more dramatic in the end.  But all the same, a well-told story will establish early on that there is hope for this person, by helping a kid find his cat or performing some other kind gesture.

By the same token, we want our hero to have flaws.  Perfect protagonists are boring.  Make sure your hero has vulnerabilities everyone can identify with; weaknesses than can take him/her down.  Kryptonite only goes so far as a threat, but human conflict is the stuff of legend in fiction.

Any time a reader picks up your book, they're hoping for a story that will envelope them.  When you give them a relatable protagonist they can share an adventure with, and ultimately prevail with, the real hero is you.