One of the most common bits of writing advice is variously phrased as “Make the reader fall in love with your characters,” “Make your characters likeable,” “Make your characters sympathetic,” and, most generally, “Make the reader care about your characters.”
There are three problems with this advice. First, there is no such thing as a Universal Reader. Second, even if there were, the writer can’t make the reader do anything. And lastly, the follow-on advice about how to achieve this desirable response ranges from non-existent to unhelpfully generic, in large part because of problem number one.
The insistence on the existence of some kind of Universal Reader (or even a specific, predictable niche audience) who can be pleased by a particular set of things is something I find enormously problematic. It’s also tempting to a lot of writers, as it implies the existence of a recipe for writing characters or plots. If it were that easy, everyone would be doing it.
Readers—that is, people, also known as “human beings”—are different from each other. They like different things. This applies to everything, from what kind of jam they like to what kind of characters and plots they like, love, find sympathetic, or care about. The obvious logical consequence is that traits that one reader finds admirable and sympathetic in a character, other readers will find contemptible or repellent.
For instance, one how-to book advocates giving the main character “a noble goal” and having the protagonist “take a stand on an issue.” There are very few goals that everyone agrees are noble; limiting oneself to those choice would drastically limit the types of characters one could write about. As for taking a stand…the whole reason something is an issue is that people disagree about what the right choice is. Having a character take a stand on either side of an issue is automatically going to make them unsympathetic to people on the opposite side.
Problem number two isn’t solvable. Unless you are actually physically standing over a reader with a whip, you can’t make any individual reader do anything, and even with the whip in hand, you can’t make someone like your characters. No story pleases everyone. Accept it and move on.
The differing likes and dislikes of different readers come into play again as soon as one looks at problem number three, the advice for how to make characters likeable, lovable, sympathetic, etc. As mentioned above, different readers will find different things likeable, which is why this advice immediately goes all over the place. Even the how-to book writers find different character traits admirable or problematic. But this issue goes deeper than that.
Almost all of the how-to-do-this advice relates to designing the characters, as in “make your character sweet/funny/sincere/loyal/long-string-of-other-positive-adjectives.” But writing a character description that says “Ava is a sweet, funny girl who loves rabbits” doesn’t make any difference to readers at all. Because the readers aren’t reading the character description. They’re reading the story.
Readers evaluate characters the same ways they evaluate real-life people: by what they say, how they act, what they profess to believe, how they react in different situations (especially those that are awkward, stressful, or that require moral decisions), what other people/characters think of them, and, in the case of the viewpoint character, on how well their internal thoughts and feelings match up with what they say they believe and/or on what those internal thoughts and feelings say about the character’s true motivation for what they are doing.
If these things aren’t consistent, the reader usually goes with their gut feeling about which elements are more important, based on their personal life experiences. So one reader will dislike the character’s public rudeness and arrogant behavior, while another will sympathize with the character’s tragic family background and underlying insecurity. (Context is also important; most readers will take into consideration the fact that the moral and ethical choices made by characters from a different time, place, or culture won’t necessarily be the same ones that a “good” or “bad” person from the present day would make.)
When an author simply says “Ava is kind, sweet, and funny,” it counts as “what other people think of this character.” How much influence this has depends on how much a given reader trusts the writer and/or the viewpoint character who is describing Ava. But even when the reader already likes and trusts the writer, and believes that the viewpoint character is describing Ava accurately, most readers will depend more on their own observations over time. If Ava’s witty comments are consistently mean-spirited and her kind, sweet actions always seem to happen in public and only when she gets something out of them, the reader will eventually notice and start worrying that the viewpoint character is being fooled. This affects both the way the reader feels about Ava and the way the reader feels about the viewpoint character (which can be extremely useful, if the writer is aware and deliberate about what they are doing).
Finally, first impressions are important, but coming to like/love/care-about characters truly happens over time. Also, even characters that readers dislike from page one can be interesting enough to hold the readers’ interest, especially if the writer makes it clear early on that this character is either going to be redeemed/reformed, or get their comeuppance in a satisfying manner.
> “make your character sweet/funny/sincere/loyal/long-string-of-other-positive-adjectives.”
One thing I’d caution in relation to that is, if you make a character sweet and sincere, for example…will you unthinkingly make them female? If you make them funny and loyal…will they be LBBTQ?
I find that if I don’t pay attention to it, I tend to have characters play the same kind of gender roles as the people I grew up around did.
But whatever background we come from is *back*ground, it’s automatically in the past, and for me at least it is far too easy to replicate the old and familiar. And I don’t doubt that’s a disservice to my readers.
Apologies for leaving this here–the “open mic” post seemed closed to comments, and I wanted to give a heads up.
Both Feedly and Inoreader seem to not recognize the Entries (RSS) link for your blog here as valid. (The second-to-last link on the bottom of this page, as of the date of this post.) And because they don’t see the link (or data?) as valid, they don’t see your blog as being updated, ever. To them, your blog is another abandoned blog that never updates. (And clearly that’s NOT the case!)
Meaning, none of your posts here on writing are showing up in my RSS feed. I think one of readers I looked at “thought” you hadn’t updated since 2015?
Anyway. Might be worth getting whoever runs your website to figure that out.
Just wanted to drop a comment. You have tons of good advice on writing, and it’s much appreciated. Thank you for your books, and for your insight!
Danni, thanks for this! A fix is necessary.
One of the more-difficult stories I wrote has a main character you are supposed to dislike, a self-deluded, somewhat schizophrenic fellow with no ambition of his own but who was driven to do nasty things by how he thought he was supposed to behave. The story faltered largely because I didn’t have the chops to write him nasty enough. (For instance, in what was suppoed to be a rape scene, when he was initially rebuffed, he caved and simply left. This might be truer to his character, but it failed to give the story what it needed.)
As far as “make the reader love your character”, rephrasing that to “make the reader care what happens” is a lot more useful and actionable—though perhaps not any less difficult.
The trite version would be “Avoid the Eight Deadly Words.” (‘I don’t care what happens to these people.’)
But especially avoid the Five Deadlier Words:
“Why Can’t You Both Lose?”
I dunno. I can imagine a writer pulling off a story where both sides lose, with readers cheering that outcome. It would be difficult, but possible.
I have a particular story that I use as a test piece when trying out a new critiquer. The first dozen-plus people I showed it to all really liked the characters. The last two absolutely hated the main character, and were sure that everybody else must, too. So much for universal characterization.
(The last one at least gave me some things I could ask questions about. Turns out that more setting details would make the character’s actions more understandable, and thus make the character more likeable, or at least less unlikeable, to that reader. So the solution to making a sympathetic character may not even lie in the characterization per se.)
> So the solution to making a sympathetic character may not even lie in the characterization per se.
I think you’re right.
I remember a couple of novels from years ago with unsympathetic main characters – I read about them later, and they were meant to be unsympathetic, but only at the start. Both were supposed to grow on you over the course of the novel.
One was so well written I stuck with it, and ended up enjoying. The other I threw across the room at the end of chapter one, and never did end up trying to go any further. I just couldn’t get myself to do it.
So I agree that characterization alone isn’t the whole story.
‘So I agree that characterization alone isn’t the whole story.’
Nice pun. 🙂
Wish I could take credit for it, but it was unintended!!
Those are the best kind.
> So the solution to making a sympathetic character may not even lie in the characterization per se.
Apropos of this discussion, and how context makes certain things look very different: Code Geass.
It’s an animated series from several years ago, with a very impressive protagonist. He’s calm, sly, arrogant, quiet, cunning, charismatic, a skilled liar, a strategist, and bent on waging bloody war against the empire that controls one third of the globe. When he shoots his brother in episode three, I cheered. He is in many ways not a very likeable person, but a very interesting character. his more likeable affect is a mask he puts on to preserve his life, which is in jeopardy should his survival be discovered.
Its context that makes you cheer every decision he ever makes, and not because he’s a villain- but because his motivations always mingle personal drive with clearsighted understanding of what’s wrong in the world he lives in. He’s likeable because for all the power to overrule the minds of others, he never shies from looking at what he does. He’s not a physical powerhouse. his stamina is terrible. He’s not the world’s best marksman. But he puts himself in the line of fire right alongside his men each and every time, because he will not be a commander who gives the orders and then ignores the results- and every time he is swayed in that direction, the reality of his actions crashes down on his head.
His two lines are “you can’t change the world without getting your hands dirty,” and “the only ones who should kill are those prepared to be killed.”
He’s an interesting contrast to his opposite, friend, enemy, and co-protagonist. Said co-protagonist is a dedicated, loyal honest man who wishes for peace. As well as a much more classically likable person. The sympathy of the audience should, and in another story, would, have been with him. However, despite looking at him at certain points in the show and saying ‘there goes a good man,’ context as the story unfolds leaves said good man looking dislikeable, tepid, foolish, and ultimately detestable at various points. He commits six different active betrayals in pursuit of what he believes right and worthwhile, is utterly unmotivated by personal benefit. caught between his loyalty to the nation he was born in; the military he serves in now; the people he cares about; and his personal moral code. At almost any given time, at least two of those will be in conflict. In most stories, this man would be the good guy, because he was placed by the narrative in a situation where his actions work out to the benefit of others.
Not here., This time, the man serves an empire whose interests have nothing at all in favor of helping anyone. He wants to reform the empire, and fails to realize that many of his colleagues won’t help with his reforms because they either benefit from the corrupt system he wants fixed or genuinely believe that system should be used to govern the world. In fact, his inability to recognize that the majority of Britannia enjoys oppressing others prevents him from understanding why others would want to see it destroyed. Unquestionably one of the nicest characters in the series. Less than likeable.
Neither protagonist ever compromises on their ideals, or truly changes their goals. Both men become more ruthless as the story progresses, as the stakes rise, as they are backed more into a wall. Ultimately, both pursue their goals to the end, and remain or become more likeable, after undergoing great trials.
Between the banished prince with the mind control powers, who primarily employs said powers to sabotage enemy preparations; and the good man – the more likeable person is a much less likeable character for the majority of the story, due to their actions, beliefs and the context they are in.