To carry on from Galadriel’s great start to antagonists last month, let’s dig deeper into antagonists.
As before, the discussion thread will be open for FIVE DAYS from when we post the Chat. Let us know your thoughts and experiences. If you disagree with anything, that’s fine. Tell us why. We love hearing from you. All opinions are welcome and valid additions to our learning. Keep it civil.
Rachel (RK Capps), Galadriel, Ed, Kay (Ancora Imparo)
First, let’s recap:
And that’s what we want.
But this relationship doesn’t have to be the Sauron/Frodo relationship of Lord of the Rings. It can be something akin to the relationship of Elizabeth Bennett/ Mr Darcy in Pride and Prejudice. There, Mr Darcy is our antagonist, as a very wealthy man compared to the poorer Bennetts (whose father’s estate is entailed away to a distant cousin). At the start, Mr Darcy is the more powerful of the two, although he’s not the antagonist long – that soon becomes Wickham.
Basically, we want something along the lines of:
The antagonist stands in the way of the protagonist being able to solve his problem. Very roughly put, the protagonist wants to go from Point A to Point B, but as he starts on his journey, the antagonist shows up and pummels him about the head, neck, and crotch with a Wiffle ball bat.
Wendig, Chuck. Damn Fine Story (p. 49). Penguin Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.
Let’s do some homework first – yes, your antagonist, your book. Keep in mind the antagonist is the protagonist of their own story. Try this technique borrowed from James Scott Bell:
One of the techniques I teach in my workshops is borrowed from my courtroom days. I ask people to imagine their villain has been put on trial and is representing himself. Now comes the time for the closing argument. He has one opportunity to make his case for the jury. He has to justify his whole life. He has to appeal to the jurors’ hearts and minds or he’s doomed.
Write that speech. Do it as a free-form document, in the villain’s voice, with all the emotion you can muster. Emphasize what’s called “exculpatory evidence.” That is evidence that, if believed, would tend to exonerate a defendant. As the saying goes, give the devil his due.
Note: This does not mean you are giving approval to what the villain has done. No way. What you are getting at is his motivation. This is how to know what’s going on inside your villain’s head throughout the entire novel.
Bell, James Scott. Writing Unforgettable Characters: How to Create Story People Who Jump Off the Page (Bell on Writing Book 12) (p. 110). Compendium Press. Kindle Edition.
So, where do you start when creating your antagonist? How long is a piece of string? There is no wrong way and no right way. In fact, the right way is what works for you.
However, let’s approach this by using the Litopian method of critiquing: let’s ask questions. We already know two questions (thanks to Galadriel):
What does the antagonist want?
What is their goal?
Now ask (*rubs hands*):
What do they fear? Why?
What drives them? Why?
WHY do they want their WANT? What happened in their past that scarred them so much they now believe what they want is justified?
Were they abused? What happened?
Did someone die? Who? How? How were they important to the antagonist?
What is their plan?
How are they butting heads with the protagonist?
Do you sense a theme? With every story question ask yourself “Why?” Dig below the surface. At least 5 layers. We want to surprise readers. Satisfied and surprised readers buy your next book. Give readers something they’ve seen before and they won’t. Simple.
Most importantly, HAVE FUN!!
WEBLINKS:
https://www.masterclass.com/articles/the-main-types-of-antagonists#the-4-types-of-antagonists
25 Things You Should Know About Antagonists (excuse the language)
The Burning Desire: The Difference Between Magnificent & Maddening
YouTube:
Rachel
BEST BADDIES
Baddies. Don’t you just love them? In so many films and books they often look as if they’re having all the fun while the poor protagonist is run ragged trying to outmanoeuvre, outfight and outwit them.
From archetypes to stereotypes, combinations of both, and just plain nasty people, there’s a lot to choose from. The Joker; Lex Luthor; Norman Bates; Professor Moriarty; Dracula; Hannibal Lecter; Abigail Williams in The Crucible; Snow White’s evil queen; Ragnarok from Thor; Cersei Lannister from Game of Thrones. They’re all so different, even if some are old tropes and stereotypes (more on that later). And they all worked. Mainly (most Lex Luthors were cardboard stereotypes, I think). Add your own to the list. Hell, let’s add anthrax, diphtheria, Aids, cancer, covid… or further back… Remember blood poisoning? Some poor battle-weary soldier, seeing a fine red line rising from what he’d hoped was a flesh wound. Sorry, dude. Game over. Until superheroes Penicillin and Antibiotic flew in. Too late for our battle-weary warrior, sadly, but at least we can count on them in our modern world... yeah?
Well, the best baddies, like the worst bacteria, adapt. They find weaknesses you didn’t even know you had. They start to outmanoeuvre, outfight and outwit you. Enter Sepsis. Blood poisoning’s bigger and badder brother. Back in 2020, The Lancet claimed Sepsis was the world’s biggest killer, beating cancer and coronary disease. Kills millions of people every year and disables many more (and that was before it teamed up with its new bestie, covid, so it could, you know, take down a few more). Took a much-loved friend last year. She was forty-nine. Yeah. Baddies. Don’t you just love them.
The point of all that is your antagonist can be anyone and anything. You can even be your own worst enemy. (How many times have you heard that?) An antagonist can be anything inside you or outside you. A person, a mountain, a boat, a whale, a whole horrifying world of hungry vampires looking for lunch (you); a religious nutcase projecting her own insanity onto another character in the hope no one will notice; or a teeny-tiny-wee bacterium that’s going to surprise you, change tack and hit your weakest flank, just when you thought you were winning, and snuff you out. Just because.
Do bacteria feel anything when they rip the light and life from a beautiful soul and send it back into the circle? No. They don’t. Rage is a great motivating force, but indifference is much worse. Indifference is… nihilism. The emotion is all ours (the protagonist) as we deal with the loss. Bacteria (the antagonists) just look for the next host to devour. No hysteria, no drama, no emotion. Just intelligence, cunning, and an absolute determination to win.
Nurse Ratched, anyone? (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Google it. Study her. Learn.) Or Anton Chigurh in No Country for Old Men. Thirty years apart, but they could have been soulmates. Or Cersei Lannister, acknowledged as one of the most complex characters in GoT: a veritable amalgam of antagonist and protagonist rolled into one, dipped in poison and sent out to flay the world.
Weak baddies make things uncomfortable for the protagonist and give them a hard time. Throw in a car chase, plane fight, starship battle or cutting-edge CGI animation and you’ll win fans. Sure. But we’ve all been there, seen that, bought the hype and (mainly) forgotten them by Tuesday.
Strong baddies have bigger arsenals, from the psychological to the atom-sized. They bring carnage, grief, change, horror… death. They’re seismic. They take what you love. What you love. Think about that. They rupture worlds, internal and external. They destabilise. They bring suffering on a nuclear scale. Whether a person or an event, they turn your world into a wasteland. We do not forget them. And we won’t forget the protagonist who (finally, after all that pain and struggle and loss) defeats them... Or is vanquished trying.
For me, the worst baddie of all (or the best, depending on your tastes) is one that makes your blood run cold. Makes you feel visceral anger and fear that this loveable protagonist, who you thought invincible, might not be up to the job. That this, this – no, I’m not going to swear; trying to give it up – that this baddie might just have the power to outmanoeuvre, outfight and outwit our protagonist, after all. Our beloved protagonist who we’ve followed so far in this great story, cheering for them all the way. This baddie might actually defeat them. The antagonist might win. And, as we know, sometimes they do.
Stereotype antagonists tend not to win. Those stories of heroes and heroines winning the day, saving the world without any real loss, are all great – we need them the way we need comfort food when we’re feeling low. I’m not saying don’t write these kinds of stories – I love them – but know what you’re doing. Know why you’re writing the Lex Luthor or Snow Queen / stereotype, instead of a Nurse Ratched or Anton Chigurh / sepsis. Is it easier? Of course, it is. Old tropes follow well-worn paths for us all to travel (and they work, too. I'm not saying disregard them). But it’s the brave writer who steps off the path and cuts a new trail with only their trusty – but magical, remember – nib to show the way.
Good people / characters have flaws and bad traits. Bad people / characters often do good things. As Rachel has mentioned above, if you understand your antagonist’s history and motivations, you can create a more nuanced character. Often, the reader may not need to know the antagonist’s bad history, past abuse etc – but you, the writer, need to. Drip feed it to the reader if you want, but only if absolutely necessary. Remember, what a character does is who the character is. No one knew exactly why Hitler did what he did, back then. But good people all thought the same thing: we have to stop this. That meant fighting. Losing battles and loved ones. Lives and dreams shattered. Still had to do it. Because the alternative was unbearable. Unacceptable to civilised people. That Alternative was a big mf of an Antagonist. (mf: mountain of fury… )
Returning for a moment to the characters we don’t forget: how many people do you think read Anne Frank’s story, and the antagonist she faced, and then forgot about her (or her antagonist)? Life didn’t throw that lass any easy boulders, easily batted off. She didn't get a contrived family drama or car chase. She got sepsis with a capital H.
But if you want to give us a happy ending, where good triumphs over all evil (yeah, right. In which parallel universe?) at least give us realistic misery before we get there. Real adversity (not a plot device), and sharper antagonists (who cause your main character serious pain and loss) can hone clever protagonists into the sharpest of blades, finest of lasers, or the stardust of old planets if that’s where you want the story to go… and give you real pleasure in writing them, and your reader real pleasure in reading them – and coming back for more.
The best characters – protagonists and antagonists – like real people, go on journeys, inner and outer, over and over. They lose as well as win. Often, the best ones lose a lot. Because, guess, what? Your reader has probably lost a lot in their life, too, and so they empathise with that realistic, damaged, heart-broken, on-her-knees-but-still-fighting protagonist, just as they recognise the realistic, cold-hearted s.o.b. nasty antagonist, and get immersed in your story, because they know bad things happen to good people. (And good things happen to bad people, dammit.) Life isn’t easy. The best stories teach us that. Don’t short-change your protagonist by giving them an easy ride with a stereotypical antagonist who is too easily defeated, and a plot you’ve twisted into a pretzel so everything looks bad… but isn’t really. Frighten your protagonist – and your readers. Horrify them. Make your baddies bad. Really bad.
Like that nurse Ratched. And pray she never teams up with Anton, or Cersei. They'd make Sauron and all his armies look like over-dressed drama queens out for Halloween.
Ancora Imparo
PS... And if there are any budding medical geniuses reading this over a cup of coffee: put that cup down and stop wasting time. Away and find a cure for sepsis.
As before, the discussion thread will be open for FIVE DAYS from when we post the Chat. Let us know your thoughts and experiences. If you disagree with anything, that’s fine. Tell us why. We love hearing from you. All opinions are welcome and valid additions to our learning. Keep it civil.
Rachel (RK Capps), Galadriel, Ed, Kay (Ancora Imparo)
First, let’s recap:
- One of the most important things you need to know about your antagonist is their GOAL.
- Is what they want the same as the protagonist? If not, what do they WANT?
And that’s what we want.
But this relationship doesn’t have to be the Sauron/Frodo relationship of Lord of the Rings. It can be something akin to the relationship of Elizabeth Bennett/ Mr Darcy in Pride and Prejudice. There, Mr Darcy is our antagonist, as a very wealthy man compared to the poorer Bennetts (whose father’s estate is entailed away to a distant cousin). At the start, Mr Darcy is the more powerful of the two, although he’s not the antagonist long – that soon becomes Wickham.
Basically, we want something along the lines of:
The antagonist stands in the way of the protagonist being able to solve his problem. Very roughly put, the protagonist wants to go from Point A to Point B, but as he starts on his journey, the antagonist shows up and pummels him about the head, neck, and crotch with a Wiffle ball bat.
Wendig, Chuck. Damn Fine Story (p. 49). Penguin Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.
Let’s do some homework first – yes, your antagonist, your book. Keep in mind the antagonist is the protagonist of their own story. Try this technique borrowed from James Scott Bell:
One of the techniques I teach in my workshops is borrowed from my courtroom days. I ask people to imagine their villain has been put on trial and is representing himself. Now comes the time for the closing argument. He has one opportunity to make his case for the jury. He has to justify his whole life. He has to appeal to the jurors’ hearts and minds or he’s doomed.
Write that speech. Do it as a free-form document, in the villain’s voice, with all the emotion you can muster. Emphasize what’s called “exculpatory evidence.” That is evidence that, if believed, would tend to exonerate a defendant. As the saying goes, give the devil his due.
Note: This does not mean you are giving approval to what the villain has done. No way. What you are getting at is his motivation. This is how to know what’s going on inside your villain’s head throughout the entire novel.
Bell, James Scott. Writing Unforgettable Characters: How to Create Story People Who Jump Off the Page (Bell on Writing Book 12) (p. 110). Compendium Press. Kindle Edition.
So, where do you start when creating your antagonist? How long is a piece of string? There is no wrong way and no right way. In fact, the right way is what works for you.
However, let’s approach this by using the Litopian method of critiquing: let’s ask questions. We already know two questions (thanks to Galadriel):
What does the antagonist want?
What is their goal?
Now ask (*rubs hands*):
What do they fear? Why?
What drives them? Why?
WHY do they want their WANT? What happened in their past that scarred them so much they now believe what they want is justified?
Were they abused? What happened?
Did someone die? Who? How? How were they important to the antagonist?
What is their plan?
How are they butting heads with the protagonist?
Do you sense a theme? With every story question ask yourself “Why?” Dig below the surface. At least 5 layers. We want to surprise readers. Satisfied and surprised readers buy your next book. Give readers something they’ve seen before and they won’t. Simple.
Most importantly, HAVE FUN!!
WEBLINKS:
https://www.masterclass.com/articles/the-main-types-of-antagonists#the-4-types-of-antagonists
25 Things You Should Know About Antagonists (excuse the language)
The Burning Desire: The Difference Between Magnificent & Maddening
YouTube:
Rachel
BEST BADDIES
Baddies. Don’t you just love them? In so many films and books they often look as if they’re having all the fun while the poor protagonist is run ragged trying to outmanoeuvre, outfight and outwit them.
From archetypes to stereotypes, combinations of both, and just plain nasty people, there’s a lot to choose from. The Joker; Lex Luthor; Norman Bates; Professor Moriarty; Dracula; Hannibal Lecter; Abigail Williams in The Crucible; Snow White’s evil queen; Ragnarok from Thor; Cersei Lannister from Game of Thrones. They’re all so different, even if some are old tropes and stereotypes (more on that later). And they all worked. Mainly (most Lex Luthors were cardboard stereotypes, I think). Add your own to the list. Hell, let’s add anthrax, diphtheria, Aids, cancer, covid… or further back… Remember blood poisoning? Some poor battle-weary soldier, seeing a fine red line rising from what he’d hoped was a flesh wound. Sorry, dude. Game over. Until superheroes Penicillin and Antibiotic flew in. Too late for our battle-weary warrior, sadly, but at least we can count on them in our modern world... yeah?
Well, the best baddies, like the worst bacteria, adapt. They find weaknesses you didn’t even know you had. They start to outmanoeuvre, outfight and outwit you. Enter Sepsis. Blood poisoning’s bigger and badder brother. Back in 2020, The Lancet claimed Sepsis was the world’s biggest killer, beating cancer and coronary disease. Kills millions of people every year and disables many more (and that was before it teamed up with its new bestie, covid, so it could, you know, take down a few more). Took a much-loved friend last year. She was forty-nine. Yeah. Baddies. Don’t you just love them.
The point of all that is your antagonist can be anyone and anything. You can even be your own worst enemy. (How many times have you heard that?) An antagonist can be anything inside you or outside you. A person, a mountain, a boat, a whale, a whole horrifying world of hungry vampires looking for lunch (you); a religious nutcase projecting her own insanity onto another character in the hope no one will notice; or a teeny-tiny-wee bacterium that’s going to surprise you, change tack and hit your weakest flank, just when you thought you were winning, and snuff you out. Just because.
Do bacteria feel anything when they rip the light and life from a beautiful soul and send it back into the circle? No. They don’t. Rage is a great motivating force, but indifference is much worse. Indifference is… nihilism. The emotion is all ours (the protagonist) as we deal with the loss. Bacteria (the antagonists) just look for the next host to devour. No hysteria, no drama, no emotion. Just intelligence, cunning, and an absolute determination to win.
Nurse Ratched, anyone? (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Google it. Study her. Learn.) Or Anton Chigurh in No Country for Old Men. Thirty years apart, but they could have been soulmates. Or Cersei Lannister, acknowledged as one of the most complex characters in GoT: a veritable amalgam of antagonist and protagonist rolled into one, dipped in poison and sent out to flay the world.
Weak baddies make things uncomfortable for the protagonist and give them a hard time. Throw in a car chase, plane fight, starship battle or cutting-edge CGI animation and you’ll win fans. Sure. But we’ve all been there, seen that, bought the hype and (mainly) forgotten them by Tuesday.
Strong baddies have bigger arsenals, from the psychological to the atom-sized. They bring carnage, grief, change, horror… death. They’re seismic. They take what you love. What you love. Think about that. They rupture worlds, internal and external. They destabilise. They bring suffering on a nuclear scale. Whether a person or an event, they turn your world into a wasteland. We do not forget them. And we won’t forget the protagonist who (finally, after all that pain and struggle and loss) defeats them... Or is vanquished trying.
For me, the worst baddie of all (or the best, depending on your tastes) is one that makes your blood run cold. Makes you feel visceral anger and fear that this loveable protagonist, who you thought invincible, might not be up to the job. That this, this – no, I’m not going to swear; trying to give it up – that this baddie might just have the power to outmanoeuvre, outfight and outwit our protagonist, after all. Our beloved protagonist who we’ve followed so far in this great story, cheering for them all the way. This baddie might actually defeat them. The antagonist might win. And, as we know, sometimes they do.
Stereotype antagonists tend not to win. Those stories of heroes and heroines winning the day, saving the world without any real loss, are all great – we need them the way we need comfort food when we’re feeling low. I’m not saying don’t write these kinds of stories – I love them – but know what you’re doing. Know why you’re writing the Lex Luthor or Snow Queen / stereotype, instead of a Nurse Ratched or Anton Chigurh / sepsis. Is it easier? Of course, it is. Old tropes follow well-worn paths for us all to travel (and they work, too. I'm not saying disregard them). But it’s the brave writer who steps off the path and cuts a new trail with only their trusty – but magical, remember – nib to show the way.
Good people / characters have flaws and bad traits. Bad people / characters often do good things. As Rachel has mentioned above, if you understand your antagonist’s history and motivations, you can create a more nuanced character. Often, the reader may not need to know the antagonist’s bad history, past abuse etc – but you, the writer, need to. Drip feed it to the reader if you want, but only if absolutely necessary. Remember, what a character does is who the character is. No one knew exactly why Hitler did what he did, back then. But good people all thought the same thing: we have to stop this. That meant fighting. Losing battles and loved ones. Lives and dreams shattered. Still had to do it. Because the alternative was unbearable. Unacceptable to civilised people. That Alternative was a big mf of an Antagonist. (mf: mountain of fury… )
Returning for a moment to the characters we don’t forget: how many people do you think read Anne Frank’s story, and the antagonist she faced, and then forgot about her (or her antagonist)? Life didn’t throw that lass any easy boulders, easily batted off. She didn't get a contrived family drama or car chase. She got sepsis with a capital H.
But if you want to give us a happy ending, where good triumphs over all evil (yeah, right. In which parallel universe?) at least give us realistic misery before we get there. Real adversity (not a plot device), and sharper antagonists (who cause your main character serious pain and loss) can hone clever protagonists into the sharpest of blades, finest of lasers, or the stardust of old planets if that’s where you want the story to go… and give you real pleasure in writing them, and your reader real pleasure in reading them – and coming back for more.
The best characters – protagonists and antagonists – like real people, go on journeys, inner and outer, over and over. They lose as well as win. Often, the best ones lose a lot. Because, guess, what? Your reader has probably lost a lot in their life, too, and so they empathise with that realistic, damaged, heart-broken, on-her-knees-but-still-fighting protagonist, just as they recognise the realistic, cold-hearted s.o.b. nasty antagonist, and get immersed in your story, because they know bad things happen to good people. (And good things happen to bad people, dammit.) Life isn’t easy. The best stories teach us that. Don’t short-change your protagonist by giving them an easy ride with a stereotypical antagonist who is too easily defeated, and a plot you’ve twisted into a pretzel so everything looks bad… but isn’t really. Frighten your protagonist – and your readers. Horrify them. Make your baddies bad. Really bad.
Like that nurse Ratched. And pray she never teams up with Anton, or Cersei. They'd make Sauron and all his armies look like over-dressed drama queens out for Halloween.
Ancora Imparo
PS... And if there are any budding medical geniuses reading this over a cup of coffee: put that cup down and stop wasting time. Away and find a cure for sepsis.
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