with guest Connie Queen.
No, we’re not talking about leaving our characters in a chilly state of dress or even giving them amnesia. Today, we’re talking about stripping them of the very thing that makes them, well, them.
But why would we do that?
Stripping your character of a core piece of identity strengthens internal conflict.
While we don’t want our characters having to call the suicide hotline or spend half their day on the couch talking with their therapist, at least one of our characters should face a major internal struggle.
For me, there are two things I’ve learned that make that easier. And who doesn’t like things easier?
1. Foster care.
Let’s go back seventeen years.
My husband and I were sitting in a training class to become foster care parents. The instructor handed out five little pieces of paper to everyone and said, “Write down the five most important things in your life, or what makes you, you.”
I don’t remember exactly what I wrote, but it was something along the lines of:
God, Church, being a wife, being a mom, I’m the daughter of Tex Monk.
“Now,” the instructor said, “pick one of your pieces and throw it away. Wad it up and toss it into the middle of the floor. You’re giving it up.”
This made me uncomfortable, as it did everyone, but we took a deep breath, selected the least important thing, (Really? I couldn’t live without any of them but the instructor would never know) and flung our precious papers to the ground. Then another round followed by another until she had us dispose of everything that mattered to us. Ok, this wasn’t funny.
“There,” she said when the floor was littered with our very being. “That’s what these kids are asked to give up.”
This stuck with me. These kids were giving up parents, siblings, religion, friends, schools, pets, toys and everything they’ve ever known. It didn’t matter if their parents were imperfect. It was their world. Gone in an instant. (BTW this is why these children don’t give a hoot if your house is bigger, filled with better toys and you’re really nice people.)
2. Narrative Identity
My sister used narrative identity in her thesis which led to numerous conversations between us of how it applied to our own lives and that of our friends.
Now that this concept is ingrained in my mind, I can’t help but apply it to my writing.
I’d explain the loss of narrative identity like this, “You’re going about your life believing something about yourself when the rug is suddenly pulled out from underneath you. Now you doubt your identity. You can either try to get back on your normal path so your identity doesn’t change, or abandon your identity in search of a new one.”
Examples:
A woman believes she’s a good wife. After 19 years, her husband comes home and says he want a divorce. She can try to save the marriage or divorce him and be open to finding another man—hence trying to hang onto her identity. Or she can abandon ship by swearing off men and immersing herself in her new career as a divorce attorney.
- From my current WIP:
Riley, my hero, is a doting uncle to his 6-month-old nephew. His sister asks Riley to drop her son off at daycare. On the way, Riley receives a call from his captain informing him they received a break on a big case. Distracted with his boss’s lengthy phone call, Riley forgets his sleeping nephew in the backseat. The baby dies. Not only is Riley challenged by what he believes about himself, but also what his family, social media, and his employer thinks about him. Is he a monster like the public claims, or is there room for him to be redeemed?
- My friend, Leah, the caregiver:
A wife and a mother to two teenage sons. Anyone who knew Leah would tell you it was her life to tend to other people. A few years ago, she learned she had cancer. As the illness progressed, her role as a caregiver was changed. Gone were the days of her cooking, cleaning and taking care of her family, but rather, she had to lean on them for everything. I went to see her toward the end. She was lying in bed and asked me to tell her what I had been writing. As I started telling her the stories, her eyes drifted shut. I thought I’d put her to sleep, but then her eyes fluttered open and she asked more questions. It didn’t hit me until after I left that she’d done it again. Even sick and weak, it was always Leah’s job to take care of others.
When creating your character’s internal conflict, consider whether their challenge should be secret or public. Private doesn’t mean less impactful.
- Hoosiers
Remember Gene Hackman as Norman Dale? The basketball coach who punched one of his own players. Years later, he moves to a small town to coach their high school. He faces resistance from the players, parents, and the attractive acting principal. (He chooses to get back on the normal path and his challenge was public.)
- Angels in the Outfield
Dan Glover went from “I don’t like kids” and being a cursing, kicking-the-dirt professional baseball coach to cleaning up his act and adopting two foster boys. (He abandoned his old identity and grabbed hold of a new one. His challenge was public.)
Possible identities to overthrow.
- Career. For some, their career is a major factor in how they identify themselves. I’d be willing to wager most teachers, nurses, military, peace officers, pastors, lawyers, and yes, authors, would write their occupation on one of those white slips of paper if taking that foster care class.
What about a pastor who, when is facing bankruptcy, steals from the church treasury, intending to pay it back? What about a nurse who accidentally gives the wrong medicine?
- Faith. A person’s belief, or lack of belief, in God and how that relates to their everyday decisions. Either way, an 180-degree turn would be monumental.
- Family. If you’ll notice I put dad on my paper. “oh, you’re Tex Monk’s daughter”. That phrase brought on certain expectations of who I should be. My identity would be quite different if my dad had been a druggy who had abandoned his family to pursue his life of crime.
- Romantic relationships. How people of the opposite sex treat us can affect how we view ourselves. In school, I thought of myself as a good athlete who all they guys liked, but not necessarily the cheer leader-type that they wanted to date. I married my husband when I was 18. My view of romance would be different had I never been asked out, never been kissed (hmm, sounds like an idea for a movie), or had a boyfriend that cheated on me.
So, when creating my character’s internal conflict, I always ask if it overthrows or strips them of their identity. If not, I dig deeper.
What about you? What would you put on your paper? Have you ever been thrown into a narrative abyss? Did you abandon your identity or try to get back on the course? How about your characters? Please share.
Seekerville, thank you for having me today. I’m honored to be your guest.
She has been writing for many years, but only seriously the last few. She has finaled in numerous contests. Although she used to write western historicals, she now targets suspense lines. Connie is a member of ACFW. She does NOT like pictures of herself.
Connect with Connie at:
Facebook: Connie Queen
Twitter: @conniesuequeen
