Recent events in my life -- unrelated to writing -- caused me to remember the old adage about "putting things behind you." When something is over and done with, you can't go back and change it; you have to just keep moving ahead.
I don't know when I learned this adage, but my time in the Army brought me face to face with some of the most painful occurrences requiring it's implementation Thankfully, those days are over. Now, for me, the path ahead is inevitably made easier by the love of my wife and family.
And, I'm reminded that the easiest way to turn my back on the past -- putting something behind -- is to focus on an objective ahead of me This is a good trick for writers to remember: both in their personal lives, and in our writing.
When the inevitable rejection slip arrives, for instance, it's always much easier to deal with when I've got a new work in progress. I take a moment (maybe an hour or two -- to be sure I've got it right) to repackage the rejected material for the next market I've got on the list in my computer. I try to list as many markets as possible for each work, in advance, because I find it hard to remember where I intended to send the manuscript next, when it's just come back to me. Once it's repackaged and shipped off, I do my best to drop it and forget it until the manuscript either sells or comes back again. And, it's much easier to drop it and move on, if I've got a new objective ready and waiting: that new work in progress that's calling me from my Word program.
My recent ruminations about putting things behind, by focusing on an objective farther ahead, has also led me to consider how this concept fits into writing.
|Lee Child, author of the Reacher series|
These objectives are often not mentioned directly, within the novels of any given series. However, even if they are not clearly spelled out, or alluded to, these objectives still come through, via a manner of transmission similar to that of an unstated theme: The words may not mention it, but the characters' actions, words and/or thoughts shout it loudly (or, at the very least, seem to repeatedly murmur it) to the reader.
I haven't quite decided what Jack Reacher's objective is, but I suspect it's something along the lines of: Finding roots that he can pull out and carry with him when he moves on. Reacher is a wanderer -- he moves from place to place -- from what I've seen of the series. (Some of you know him much better, and I invite comments or corrections.) This idea of a wandering protagonist, in search of some objective or ideal, is an oft-repeated theme in literature -- but seems even more recurrent when it comes to series protagonists.
Though he occasionally winds up working in New York, Mexico or California, for the most part Travis McGee seldom gets far from where his houseboat, The Busted Flush, is moored at slip 18F (if memory serves me correctly), yet I would argue that he's also a wanderer. He wanders from job to job (though they're all part of his "salvage" operations), and from woman to woman.
Through the life of the series, he wanders mentally, emotionally, and even spiritually. And, in all that wandering, he's seeking. What is he looking for? Well, perhaps it's True Justice and True Love, coupled with Fiscal Security. I suspect, however, that he'd trade away Fiscal Security, if he thought he could get the other two as a result.
There may be those who are shaking their heads, wondering why I'm writing about objectives, when what I just wrote about Travis McGee looks more like motivation. And, that's not a bad question to ask. To me, objectives and motivation seem to be two ends of the same stick. The objectives the character wants to achieve -- even if they're beyond the character's grasp -- motivate that character to do what he does. More importantly, they motivate that character to do these things the way he does them.
An objective such as True Justice may lie far beyond the story parameters. It may well be an objective that cannot be achieved just by solving any plot problem -- such as a criminal investigation -- but if the protagonist is seeking True Justice, that may well influence the way s/he deals with people who pop up as obstacles to solving the case. And it would certainly influence how the protagonist deals with having to kill or injure someone.
This is one reason why I think it's important for the author to have a firm grasp on the protagonist's long-range objectives, even if the other characters, or even the protagonist, are unaware or a little "iffy" on the subject. Keeping the protagonist's long-range objectives in mind helps keep that protagonist in character -- no matter how many installments finally make up the series. When the protagonist changes over time, which can happen in a long series, it also helps an author understand what sort of soul-searching that protagonist is going to have to go through as s/he changes. Maybe the change is internal, but the long-range objective remains unchanged, thus providing a touch-stone for how the character will change. Or, perhaps the objective itself may change, which could engender much greater soul-searching. Either way, this is one reason to keep a protagonist's objective in mind while writing.
This plot line reverberated with audiences, who felt as if they knew where these guys were coming from. I suspect, however, that the mechanism for making the audience members identify with these guys had more to do with those objectives, than with the gunfights. Action may sell a film, but I suspect audience identification with the main characters is what makes a film great. People may wonder: "How would I handle those bandits?" But, when viewers think, "How would I handle this, if that were my objective, if that was what I was worried about and/or trying to achieve -- how would I act in that man's shoes?" then the guts begin to twist, and celluloid springs to real life.
I think it works the same way in novels, too. No one would enjoy being in an actual fire-fight, and few readers can say, "Yeah! I remember what that was like. I totally identify with this guy being shot at and shooting back." Give the protagonist some long-range objectives, however, similar to those other folks might have, and suddenly the reader identifies with the character. S/he has a reason to care about that guy being shot at, because there's a connection there. After all, we all have unobtainable objectives in our lives -- don't we??
When I was in the Army, I was much younger and quicker as well as single. I also spent a lot of time flying between far-flung places, where I was not always surrounded by friends. And, there was a Sci-Fi "Men's Action" series I used to read, about a wandering band of travelers in a post-apocalyptic world. The group had stumbled across a network of teleportation devices, which made it possible for each novel to begin in a completely new setting. Essentially, it worked as a Sci-Fi version of a traveling band of Old West gunslingers who went from town to town cleaning up each place they moved through (i.e. killing the bad guys, thereby liberating the oppressed populous).
At the time, I had enough blood and guts in my life, without adding more from my reading. What kept me buying the books (aside from the fact that I could find them in most airports) was the unstated group objective. What the group was really traveling around, looking for, was A Safe Place to Nurture Love.
Now that would hardly seem like a successful objective for a "Men's Action" series, but I'm convinced it was indeed the group objective. Each of them had lost people they loved to sudden, unexpected violence several times in the past. Each was now in love with another member of the small party, but unwilling to fully commit to that love, for fear it would "Jinx" the relationship, causing them to lose another person they loved to the sudden senseless violence that ran rampant in the post-apocalyptic world they inhabited.
Not that any of the macho male characters would even have been caught even thinking about nurturing love! And, none of the female characters -- who were a bit more intelligent than the male characters -- would have deigned to mention it aloud to any of the males. I got the feeling, however, that everyone understood this was what they were looking for. Their personal histories, their actions, words, thoughts -- the way they went about doing things -- made this very clear. And, that objective, A Safe Place to Nurture Love, was absolutely unobtainable, given their circumstances.
At the time, when I was reading these books, I knew that I identified with the main characters. But, I didn't know why. Only in retrospect did I realize that my personal objective at the time was quite similar.to theirs. They were seeking a safe place to nurture love. I – a single soldier on an A-Team, who was in and out of the country quite a bit ˆ was seeking a way to live, which would give love a chance to grow in my own life. That seemed unobtainable to me, back then.
And -- when I tried to re-read one of the books in the series, years later, after my wife and kids had become such a fundamental part of my life -- well, I suspect that's why the book couldn't hold my interest. I was no longer a part of the target audience for the series, because my own objectives had changed. I no longer identified with the main characters.
Certainly, there are other ways of helping readers to identify with characters. But, helping them identify via connection between objectives is useful.
I've always felt the line that gave the Declaration of Independence it's greatest strength, was mention of "the pursuit of happiness." It probably also gave the framers of the Constitution their biggest headache, too. I often picture them sitting around saying, "That damn Jefferson! It's one thing to write about the pursuit of happiness, as if you're a poet! We all know there's too much random chance in life, creating unexpected sadness, to make True Happiness possible. Yet, we have to write a document that gives people the latitude to at least try to pursue happiness. How the hell are we supposed to that?"
And, that's one of the nice things about writing fiction. We don't actually have to make any of our characters achieve True Happiness. In fact, doing so would probably destroy the ability of a reader to suspend disbelief (unless you're writing for children). We just need to remember what our main characters' objectives are, so readers have another way of identifying with them.
For what it's worth, that's my two cents.