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odd_buttonsThe following is an excerpt from Part III of the book Making Shapely Fiction, by Jerome Stern. The first two parts are very much worth reading as well. The book is available in paperback.
Hero
The hero -- the traditional term for the protagonist, central figure, or main character -- has almost vanished from serious literary conversation. We don't much believe in heroes, especially in the original classic sense of humans who consort with the gods and often have supernatural powers themselves. The very phrase "our hero" has been ironic for a long time.
Whatever you call this character, however, one principle holds: The more pages to the fiction, the more absorbing the hero has to be. The reasons are inescapable. The longer it takes to read the book, the more readers need to feel empathy, sympathy, and curiosity about your character. Whether your hero is sensitive or single-minded, brainy or brawny, shrewd or reckless, your readers have to care.
If your hero character, ant let's say the hero is a woman, is psychologically attractive -- a person of integrity, energy, and force (with a few human flaws) -- the readers will side with her and be appropriately angry at those who don't treat her well. Readers are drawn to energy, to the mix of tough and tender, to good values, and to attractive idiosyncrasies.
If your hero is seriously flawed, she has to be particularly interesting. Underneath it all, she needs to be insightful or funny or sensitive enough to stay fascinating. Your other characters make their entrances and exits, but your hero is with those readers chapter after chapter. Readers must feel that they are always learning more about her. They must develop a sense of kinship. They might be irritated or scared by what she does, but if they understand what she's going through, they'll walk in her Birkenstocks.
See Anti-hero, Character, Picaro.
Hero
The hero -- the traditional term for the protagonist, central figure, or main character -- has almost vanished from serious literary conversation. We don't much believe in heroes, especially in the original classic sense of humans who consort with the gods and often have supernatural powers themselves. The very phrase "our hero" has been ironic for a long time.
Whatever you call this character, however, one principle holds: The more pages to the fiction, the more absorbing the hero has to be. The reasons are inescapable. The longer it takes to read the book, the more readers need to feel empathy, sympathy, and curiosity about your character. Whether your hero is sensitive or single-minded, brainy or brawny, shrewd or reckless, your readers have to care.
If your hero character, ant let's say the hero is a woman, is psychologically attractive -- a person of integrity, energy, and force (with a few human flaws) -- the readers will side with her and be appropriately angry at those who don't treat her well. Readers are drawn to energy, to the mix of tough and tender, to good values, and to attractive idiosyncrasies.
If your hero is seriously flawed, she has to be particularly interesting. Underneath it all, she needs to be insightful or funny or sensitive enough to stay fascinating. Your other characters make their entrances and exits, but your hero is with those readers chapter after chapter. Readers must feel that they are always learning more about her. They must develop a sense of kinship. They might be irritated or scared by what she does, but if they understand what she's going through, they'll walk in her Birkenstocks.
See Anti-hero, Character, Picaro.