Drawing the Arc
Hello all! I know I've been away for awhile (life stuff), but I have returned! This time, with some thoughts on how to actually put the arc in character arc.
As a quasi-update to set the stage, I'm currently working on two books, and in both cases I smacked headlong into a wall. Neither story was progressing the way I wanted them to and I simply couldn't force my way forward anymore. Like, sitting at the keyboard and just... nothing happening. It's a scary and frustrating feeling, but being away for awhile helped immensely because it gave me exactly what I needed: perspective. And distance. Enough to go back and ask fundamental questions about the story and really dig into WTF was going on.
Turns out, both had the same problem: characters starting in the wrong place.
When we think of character arcs, we (okay, me. I can't speak for everyone) tend to think of where the character ends up--the growth they achieve over the course of the story. But in order to get to a high place, you have to start low, and that's what I messed up.
In the case of the next(?) Alumita book, I arrived at one of the two main characters in an unusual way. She (call her "S" for now) was a side character that I created just to give the other main character someone to talk to, but when I realized I was just writing Midnight Magic again, I shook everything up and made "S" the co-main character and then started over, keeping the setting. The problem that arose was that the character I started with wasn't the one the new story needed. "S" was fully formed and not going to change over the original story, but I didn't think of her in those terms when I started over. She started finished, with nowhere to go. She wasn't changing or adapting, she was just going along with everything without friction or setbacks. There was no story there, just the plot I had outlined. Sadly, it took months for me to realize what was going on, but eventually I had my eureka moment.
How?
Starting basic, with the two fundamental questions I should have asked about her at the beginning: what does she want? what does she need?
At first, you might think the answer is the same, but for a character to achieve true emotional/personal growth, they can't be*. In fact, the first one might not even be true. For example, in Midnight Magic, if you asked Vimika what she wanted, she would have answered 'to be left alone' or 'be drunk all the time so I don't have to deal with my feelings'. If she got that, there wouldn't be much story, would there? What she needed was to get out of her rut and realize she has something to offer the world, and that her path was one of denial and self-destruction. It was only through falling in love with Aurelai that Vimika gained some perspective and something to live for. Vimika was forced to grow and change by her relationship to Aurelai and all the responsibilities that came with her situation (which I won't go into because spoilers).
But that cathartic growth only happened because Vimika starts as a self-hating miserable drunk who lives under a tavern and answered the question of what she wanted wrong. I managed to start her in the right place and give her a solid direction to move in. Ultimately, the story gave her what she needed (unconsciously, of course. It has to be subtext, not literal), and that ultimate achievement, the direct contrast to the beginning and tying them together, is the great whoosh that makes a reader put the book down with a sigh of satisfaction.
The change, from giving up the want to accepting (and pursuing) the need is the path of an emotional character arc in a romance. It requires sacrifice. The character has to give up something for the sake of the other, and grow beyond their narrow view/way of thinking. But the process of falling in love makes them want to. That's the beauty, and the magic trick, in writing a satisfying romance, I believe.
Another way to think about starting a character arc is "what does she believe?". (I've also heard it called 'the lie the character believes'.) At the start of Hall of Mirrors, Millie believes her role at EVE is to be the physical protector of her sister witches; that she's really only good for punching and blocking bullets, a sentinel on the periphery who's not good at emotional stuff. But over the course of the story, the problem she is forced to deal with has no physical solution and can only be solved through emotional maturity; listening, empathy, giving advice. And it was her relationship to the deeply-empathetic nurse Elise that enabled that growth. Love changes Millie fundamentally, and continuously, over the course of the series.
Want vs. need is the dynamic I always go back to when I reach a story** impasse in a romance. Usually I don't know the answer when I start, I have to spend some time with the characters to figure it out. Fixing it can mean going back and ripping out a bunch of work though, but that's why time and distance can be so important on a project. I become less precious about things when I have enough time away from it, and when stuff needs to go, it needs to go. It's one of the big reasons I've moved to having more than one project going at a time now. Switching to another changes my headspace and gives me some breathing room to work things out in the back of my mind rather than beating the front against my keyboard and wondering why it isn't working.
I hope that isn't the case for you!
Thank you for reading, your patience and your support.
Now go forth and be excellent to each other! (And tell kissing stories! We need more of them.)
*To be clear, I'm only talking emotionally in the context of a romance. A mystery detective would answer both 'solve the murder', or the thriller secret agent 'stop the bomb from going off.' That's not character growth, those are plot goals, which is its own thing.
**Story, not plot. Story=character change, plot=what happens. In a romance, the latter is a tool to achieve the former, and I can usually figure out what needs to happen once I know why.
As a quasi-update to set the stage, I'm currently working on two books, and in both cases I smacked headlong into a wall. Neither story was progressing the way I wanted them to and I simply couldn't force my way forward anymore. Like, sitting at the keyboard and just... nothing happening. It's a scary and frustrating feeling, but being away for awhile helped immensely because it gave me exactly what I needed: perspective. And distance. Enough to go back and ask fundamental questions about the story and really dig into WTF was going on.
Turns out, both had the same problem: characters starting in the wrong place.
When we think of character arcs, we (okay, me. I can't speak for everyone) tend to think of where the character ends up--the growth they achieve over the course of the story. But in order to get to a high place, you have to start low, and that's what I messed up.
In the case of the next(?) Alumita book, I arrived at one of the two main characters in an unusual way. She (call her "S" for now) was a side character that I created just to give the other main character someone to talk to, but when I realized I was just writing Midnight Magic again, I shook everything up and made "S" the co-main character and then started over, keeping the setting. The problem that arose was that the character I started with wasn't the one the new story needed. "S" was fully formed and not going to change over the original story, but I didn't think of her in those terms when I started over. She started finished, with nowhere to go. She wasn't changing or adapting, she was just going along with everything without friction or setbacks. There was no story there, just the plot I had outlined. Sadly, it took months for me to realize what was going on, but eventually I had my eureka moment.
How?
Starting basic, with the two fundamental questions I should have asked about her at the beginning: what does she want? what does she need?
At first, you might think the answer is the same, but for a character to achieve true emotional/personal growth, they can't be*. In fact, the first one might not even be true. For example, in Midnight Magic, if you asked Vimika what she wanted, she would have answered 'to be left alone' or 'be drunk all the time so I don't have to deal with my feelings'. If she got that, there wouldn't be much story, would there? What she needed was to get out of her rut and realize she has something to offer the world, and that her path was one of denial and self-destruction. It was only through falling in love with Aurelai that Vimika gained some perspective and something to live for. Vimika was forced to grow and change by her relationship to Aurelai and all the responsibilities that came with her situation (which I won't go into because spoilers).
But that cathartic growth only happened because Vimika starts as a self-hating miserable drunk who lives under a tavern and answered the question of what she wanted wrong. I managed to start her in the right place and give her a solid direction to move in. Ultimately, the story gave her what she needed (unconsciously, of course. It has to be subtext, not literal), and that ultimate achievement, the direct contrast to the beginning and tying them together, is the great whoosh that makes a reader put the book down with a sigh of satisfaction.
The change, from giving up the want to accepting (and pursuing) the need is the path of an emotional character arc in a romance. It requires sacrifice. The character has to give up something for the sake of the other, and grow beyond their narrow view/way of thinking. But the process of falling in love makes them want to. That's the beauty, and the magic trick, in writing a satisfying romance, I believe.
Another way to think about starting a character arc is "what does she believe?". (I've also heard it called 'the lie the character believes'.) At the start of Hall of Mirrors, Millie believes her role at EVE is to be the physical protector of her sister witches; that she's really only good for punching and blocking bullets, a sentinel on the periphery who's not good at emotional stuff. But over the course of the story, the problem she is forced to deal with has no physical solution and can only be solved through emotional maturity; listening, empathy, giving advice. And it was her relationship to the deeply-empathetic nurse Elise that enabled that growth. Love changes Millie fundamentally, and continuously, over the course of the series.
Want vs. need is the dynamic I always go back to when I reach a story** impasse in a romance. Usually I don't know the answer when I start, I have to spend some time with the characters to figure it out. Fixing it can mean going back and ripping out a bunch of work though, but that's why time and distance can be so important on a project. I become less precious about things when I have enough time away from it, and when stuff needs to go, it needs to go. It's one of the big reasons I've moved to having more than one project going at a time now. Switching to another changes my headspace and gives me some breathing room to work things out in the back of my mind rather than beating the front against my keyboard and wondering why it isn't working.
I hope that isn't the case for you!
Thank you for reading, your patience and your support.
Now go forth and be excellent to each other! (And tell kissing stories! We need more of them.)
*To be clear, I'm only talking emotionally in the context of a romance. A mystery detective would answer both 'solve the murder', or the thriller secret agent 'stop the bomb from going off.' That's not character growth, those are plot goals, which is its own thing.
**Story, not plot. Story=character change, plot=what happens. In a romance, the latter is a tool to achieve the former, and I can usually figure out what needs to happen once I know why.
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