What seems to be every writer’s dream is to create a credible character-world that can be continued, is immensely popular, is original, and goes viral.
Sounds easy? Perhaps,
not quite. The Oz books, the Tarzan series,
Conan, Fafhrd and Grey Mouser all create this mystique, also the Dying Earth books, Star Wars, the Indiana Jones
series, Robin hood anthologies and
more, including TV series of countless numbers.
I think the secret lies in incorporating some simple but
powerful elements:
(i) Each episode comprises a complete mini-adventure, containing
a beginning, middle and end. Readers can
be satisfied in short increments—with the possible exception of the first episode
which introduces the main character(s), sets up the initial conflict and
describes the world. Depending on how
much world-building is involved, the first episode may remain a teaser.
(ii) The episodes are preferably centred around a main
character or group of characters. The story
gains lasting appeal because the viewers and readers come to know the
character(s) and want to learn more about the them while expecting entertaining
twists and turns.
Being a fan of adventure, I subscribe to the philosophy of
introducing a legend or history behind a character, a monster, hero, talisman,
demon or magic item. The story builds upon
this foundation. With escalating
tension, the tale has the chance to write itself. The history of talisman, character or setting
provides depth, interest and an inherent mystery to the unfoldment. An implicit realism is built. It is an effective world-building ploy.
(iii) The main character(s) ideally should be likeable. Nobody wants to plod along rubbing nose to
chin with unlikeable characters. But
then, where do villains come in to play?
If they are villains, how did they come to be villains? If they are villains, are they are trying to
become non-villains? Often ordinary or
benign characters are only likeable because of their contrast to villains. Even villains can be likeable (a la Joker in
‘The Dark Knight’). If the reader can empathize early on with the good
guy or villain then the author has an elevated chance of creating an engaging tale
that will become popular. The key issue
is readers like to read about characters they enjoy, even if they are startled by some of their actions.
Another monkey wrench is that not all readers have the same
tastes. For example, a reader looking
for a Walt Disney Bambi character is not
going to be enthused about murderous vampires or bloodthirsty pirates; neither
is the diehard sword-and-sorcery fan going to be empathizing much with a
maudlin hero from a harlequin romance.
So, genre and target audience are important. Storywriters cannot please every reader. Scanning the reviews of any popular book
online shows a surprising number of negative posts listed.
The problem of the ‘likeable character’ is a real one and
another way around it is to create a variety of characters in the story, both evil
and good, and with natures in between. Readers
can bond with the good ones and wish the knife for others. This expectation of the knife is a powerful
ploy. George Martin does a good job in
the Game of
Thrones series.
Incorporating the above elements may sound easy, but is not
necessarily easy to do. It may take a lengthy
time for a writer to develop these skills.
At least to be aware of these elements is helpful. What is engaging for an author often is not
engaging for a reader, and vice-versa, a dissonance which in itself is a tricky
issue.
(iv) The character-world ideally should be interesting. The immediate example that comes to mind is the
era-gripping ‘Star Wars’—an
incredibly rich, detailed world of planets, machines, spaceships and futuristic
colonies. The ‘world’, albeit, is only
as interesting as the characters. Take
out Han Solo and Darth Vader and the world is somewhat lacking the same
spice. Discarding C3PO and Jar-Jar
wouldn’t have the same effect.
Worlds don’t have to be so elaborate. The Cube and Hypercube movies centre around
a setting of only a series of empty rooms.
The idea is so bizarre, frightening and captivating that it works. Successful worlds can be created out of practically
anything. The tremendously popular
Indiana Jones, set in a 1940’s world, is larger than life, very colourfully
engaging, and yet it is light on fantasy aspects, outside of the dramatic
representation of the ‘magical ark’ and roller-coaster ride through the mines in
the Temple of Doom.
(v) Setting up each episode as a mystery can be an effective
formula too, though not essential. Developing
a mystery works well if the writing is effective. Readers become interested in provocative
situations and characters. Readers are
excited to learn more about the unanswered questions in the story. As a tale progresses, a reader is more
willing to learn about the central character(s) episode by episode. Subsequent episodes advance the overall series,
heightening the reader’s interest in the protagonist or quest. The success of an episode’s coherency is
largely dependent upon a storyteller’s writing skill. An overused magic item, might cheapen the
drama or deaden the pace. A well-defined
magic item used skilfully in the hands of a discerning protagonist moves the
plot along at a steady pace. The reader
learns more about the item in question. A
hero who uses a magic lamp with no explanation can sacrifice dramatic tension,
but one with an exotic magic lamp or carpet from a faraway land, crafted by a
sorcerer’s hand, with a story to its telling and what hands it has passed
through and why, is much better.
The formula I used to write my recent fantasy-adventure
novel, The Relic
Retriever, encompasses legends and a build-up of suspense around a
single character, a treasure-hunting gambler and rogue. There are seven episodes in the novel. Each story is complete in itself:
I have introduced a unique setting in each episode. The same picaresque character reigns
throughout, with ultimately a resolution of the initial and central conflict in
the final episode. The beauty of the format
is that each mini-story can be enjoyed on its own. One does not have to know what happened
before. Generally, this is a difficult scenario
to muster. Most series need to be read
in sequence. From a marketing perspective,
this is better. If order remains
unimportant it is more lucrative. New
readers can be introduced in the story at many entry points. If they like what they are reading, they’ll
read more, and possibly go back and read previous episodes or plunge ahead into
later ones. To get around discontinuities
between episodes, I insert a short paragraph or prologue in italics at the
beginning of each section. This is a technique
used by many authors (like in the Conan series), which has the possible
side-effect of hooking the reader into reading more. The italicized preambles briefly describe
what has gone before the subsections. I
think this inclusion can be limited to a few sentences or avoided completely by
constructing the story with enough skill that events and plot knit together
seamlessly. Likewise, the character and
scene is best carefully and cleverly developed.
Movie series, such as, Game of
Thrones, True Blood, Dexter,
etc, take advantage of this stylistic technique—flashing brief recaps of events
in the first five minutes of the episodes. It is harder to achieve in print form because of
the lack of time to dole out previous details, or resort to the dreaded info
dump which quickly stultifies readers.
Few stories are engineered in such a way that a reader can start at page
100 and know what’s going on. Much is
reliant on the author’s ingenuity in keeping the continuity and in designing
the story to fit an ‘easy-to-read’ model, not dependent on backstory.
The format of The Relic Retriever is similar to that used
by Jack Vance in his incomparable Eyes
of the Overworld—one of my personal favourites.
