Have you ever put a book down without finishing it because you find the main character(s) insufferable? I found myself doing that with an enemies-to-lovers romance I picked up the other day, and I had to ponder for a while why I had found it so intolerable. The book switched between the two love interests for narration, starting with the female lead. (I’m not going to name the book or author in this post because there’s no need to trash an indie author, y’know? She self-published. Good for her.)
The female lead spent the first two chapters complaining about literally everything in her life. Her car. Her job. Her own inability to arrive anywhere on time. Her coworkers. Her customers. The new owner of the restaurant she works at (who happens to be her love interest). She’s just this fountain of negativity from page one.
But the thing is… she’s just like me. Cynical. Sarcastic. Negative. Grumpy. Prone to complaints.
So why don’t I like this character? She’s just like me, so I should be able to see myself in her and relate to her, right? I’ve even had some pretty terrible experiences as a server, so this should be right up my alley.
This truly baffled me even as I put the book down, knowing I’d never pick it up again. But after a long discussion with my loving husband, I managed to weed out the truth.
I don’t want your book’s protagonist to be me. I don’t want the book to be a mirror. I don’t want to feel interchangeable with the protagonist.
I want to be friends with your protagonist.
That’s the difference. It seems like not much would change. After all, many of my friends are cynical and sarcastic, too. But if I meet someone for the first time and they spend the entire time they’re around me complaining until their lips turn blue? Yeah, I probably won’t end up inviting them to grab coffee later. I don’t even complain until my lips turn blue on first meeting someone, and I’m a champion complainer. I have the awards to prove it.
Although, the trophy could be shinier. And the blue ribbon is made out of really cheap material. Come to think of it, the awards ceremonies always go on too long. I wish they’d cut out one of the speeches. Just one. Is that too much to ask??
The fact of the matter is, it seems (emphasis on seems; I’ll never know for sure if this is true) the author of this book had some personal feelings to vent RE: working in a service industry. Those problems and complaints might be universal, but it all has to do with presentation. Many forms of media are sought out for their ability to provide some kind of catharsis. But when you’re writing fiction based in any way on your own negative experiences, you have to ask yourself: Who is this cathartic for? Me or my thousands of potential readers?
If the answer is just you, maybe some ideas need more workshopping. You have likely had negative experiences that are relatable to the masses–air travel gone wrong, serving a demanding customer at a store, Thanksgiving dinner–but just having your character lament being in one of those situations over the course of many pages does not automatically make them relatable. (And yes, at this point I have become aware of the irony going on here. I am spending this entire blog post complaining.)
I will reiterate: Your protagonist should not be a reader-surrogate. Rather, they should be someone the reader wants to be friends with. After all, what is the reader doing if not hanging out with your character(s) for dozens of pages?
The exception that proves the rule is, of course, Catcher in the Rye. (American Psycho was too obvious to use in this case. Plus, who am I to judge if you like Patrick Bateman’s style?)
I want to talk about the concept of “saving the cat,” and how all this relates to some edits I need to make to one of my own books, but I’ve already gone on too long.
Next time!
Potato Lady Blogs 