Novelist as Character Beats Character as Novelist

Even writers tire of fictional protagonists enduring blocks, deadlines, and the humiliation of the one-shot-wonder syndrome. Writers can become almost as disenchanted with someone else’s pages reflecting a mirror image—whether witty, maudlin, or ironic—as other readers became long ago.

But using your non-novelist self as template, inspiration, or guru for a protagonist? That’s another story, quite possibly one which exquisitely blends truth with embroidery of it, genuine feeling with “recollection of it in tranquility,” as William Wordsworth put it.

Certainly that involves risk. Skimp on the tranquility component, and you might transform anyone who irks you into a melodramatic villain. Perhaps you’ll splash your politics all over your chapters, or compile scenes so syrupy with self-pity that pages stick together in interactions that seem endless.

For the lucky writer, though (and the lucky readers who get their hands on that novel), the synthesis of raw emotion with the objectivity of narration approaches closest to universal feelings and themes. After all, as Joseph Campbell put it, “You are the Hero of your own Story.” What a great foundation for the hero your imagination and craft create. Why not take that concept further? Shanon Grey believes that “Your life is a book; make it a bestseller.”

How might you infuse your fiction with personal emotions and experiences?

~ Articulate your reactions to events, whether trivial or monumental.

Using either a mental or written journal, consider how anger smells, what your stomach muscles do when you’re happy, or your personal metaphor for fear or passion or spirituality. Note these, again, either on paper or in your head, so they’re available when you need them.

~ Assess “ticking clock” anxiety in your daily world.

According to Sidney Sheldon, “Life is like a novel. It’s filled with suspense. You have no idea what is going to happen until you turn the page.” How does it feel to await the doctor calling you back, the results of the job interview, the tally of an election? That’s how your protagonist feels. Of course you can’t just “tell” readers that, or they’ll never turn the page to get the results. Instead? Translate your responses into imagery, body language, or metaphor.

~ Probe. Shamelessly.

“I think one of the appeals of suspense is to safely explore our innermost fears,” Lisa Gardner observes. Readers can’t do that unless the novelist does it first. Do you shout in rage whenever you’re actually hurt? Does sour grapes ever convince you that the unwanted outcome feels okay? What role does rationalization play in your interaction with others? With yourself?

~ Appraise the stakes.

Whatever worries or bothers one can escalate, even when insignificant as a thoughtless thing you said or heard. Concentrate on how hard you can grit your teeth over what to do. Now make your character feel that, so your readers can.

Tip: Be your own “artist’s model.” And it doesn’t cost a penny,

Many writers enjoy research, correctly believing that it can cement geography, history, and forays into sports or art, quilting or banking. But one area of emotions often goes unexplored: what the writer knows about suspense, emotion, and life. Why neglect that opportunity?

Don’t Ditch Your Novel

Rejections. You might think you prepared yourself. You probably didn’t. The longer you worked on a book and the harder you hoped, the more it hurts. It might hurt worse that loved ones who aren’t writers don’t completely understand. The clash between book and business is an ugly one. Suddenly you’re a wordsmith without the words to communicate disappointment—the pain.

Clichés you would normally never use fill your tortured mind. “I can’t believe how bad this hurts!” “My insides are emptied out.” “It’s like being kicked in the stomach.” “No one will ever love my book.” “No one understands me.” “I’m a failure!”

But after all the time, energy, and heart you already invested, does it make sense to cower in a corner? Lick your wounds in the dark? Of course not. Grace Hopper, a Navy Rear Admiral born in 1930, who surely had her share of disappointments, said, “A ship in port is safe, but that’s not what ships are built for.” Didn’t you build your book for readers? Go get some.

Tip: Don’t give up on your book too soon. Watch out how you define “too soon.”

If it feels as if you’re starting fifty steps below square one, read Chuck Wendig’s superb blog on rejection at terribleminds.com. And try these.

~ Remember why you want to be a writer—and why you poured your heart into this book.

           “You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.” ― Ray Bradbury

~ Maintain your sense of humor.

            Here’s what they told Dr. Seuss about “And to Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street:

“Too different from other juveniles on the market to warrant its selling.”

~ Learn from any criticism you’re lucky enough to receive.

“Every rejection is incremental payment on your dues that in some way will be translated back into your work.” – James Lee Burke

~ Stand up straight. Don’t slouch.

“I would advise anyone who aspires to a writing career that before developing his talent he would be wise to develop a thick hide.” — Harper Lee

~ Redirect your emotions.

“Was I bitter? Absolutely. Hurt? You bet your sweet ass I was hurt. Who doesn’t feel a part of their heart break at rejection. You ask yourself every question you can think of, what, why, how come, and then your sadness turns to anger. That’s my favorite part. It drives me, feeds me, and makes one hell of a story.” — Jennifer Salaiz

~ Write something.

It’s fine to start out negative. But swiftly assume figure skater mentality. If you fall, get right up and execute the next leap. That’s what skaters and writers do. After all, “A blank piece of paper is God’s way of telling us how hard it to be God.” — Sidney Sheldon