He hates beaten paths and is lured by the road not yet taken.
He strives for the fascinating, the unique.
Cannot be depended upon to walk the same rut, climb the same hill, sit on the same rock.
Finds rationality in the irrational.
Has the ability to give substance to what never was and will never be.
He is a discoverer of countries in the hemisphere of the fantastic.
Related Traits:
Barren, commonplace, conforming, conventional, down-to-earth, emulative, imitative, machinelike, mechanical, mundane, ordinary, parrotlike, pedestrian, programmatic, prosaic, run-of-the-mill, uncreative, undaring, unenterprising, unexceptional, unimaginative, uninspired, uninventive, unoriginal, unresourceful.
As Seen by Others:
Does not question conventional wisdom, but follows it.
He repeats what has become ordinary.
Does almost all the things that practically everyone else does and which he is expected to do.
He is a follower of rules, a practitioner of routine, an indefinable part of the crowd.
He is a copycat, a modifier of accepted ideas.
His work is predictable and there is nothing about it that is surprising.
There is little hope that he will ever be daring, that he will venture outside the boundaries of triteness.
Does not march to the sound of a distant drummer.
The great American playwright Neil Simon once said that every fictional character should want something. Without analyzing this observation to the vanishing point, and assuming that he was not referring to the no-names who pass through the plot like a summer breeze, we can nevertheless conclude that in a great many cases Simon is quite right.
However, while it may certainly be advantageous to determine what the character wants, it might be almost as important to determine what he or she does
not
want, and what he or she
needs.
Mind you, it is not written in stone somewhere that this triumvirate of possibilities should always be pondered before any character is created. However, if knowing the answers to just one of the questions would help the author define the character more sharply during the planning stage, then all three questions are worth considering.
Of course, when a writer asks one question about a character, he or she is invariably led to ask even more. There is not, however, an established sequence of questions to be asked in every instance; the questions obviously depend upon the psychological nature of the fictional character, the situation into which the author places that character within the story, and the overall nature of the story itself. Every situation is different.
But here, for example, are a just few of the questions that you may wish to consider:
When does it become clear to the character what he wants, doesn't want,
or
needs?
Or does it ever? Will it, for instance, remain a secret between the writer and reader, or does the character know as well? If the character does
not
know what he wants or needs, will it be one of the things that concerns him during the story? And if the character
does
know, is that knowledge available to him at the beginning of the story or later?
Does the character always want
or
need the same thing, or will it change?
The wants or needs of a major character often change during a story. Take the hilarious screenplay of
Tootsie:
the main character is an out-of-work actor who starts out by simply wanting a good acting job. But because his agent tells him that no one will hire him, a second "want" is added: he wants to prove that his agent is mistaken. He masquerades as a female, auditions for the part, and gets it. As new circumstances are introduced into the plot, new "wants" replace old ones, and some "don't wants" are added as well.
Does the character need the same thing that he wants?
If he doesn't, the writer is going to have to decide which one the character will get. If a character is given what he needs, the odds multiply in favor of a happy ending. But if a character is allowed to achieve what he wants—or thinks he wants—he may still be miserable because it is not compatible with what he actually needs. A character may get several things he or she wants, yet still be unhappy.
If the character wants or needs something, why does he? And if he doesn't want something, why doesn't he?
The answer to either of these questions may be important in determining the character's motive. If, for instance, Sally wants to marry Bob, is it because she loves him or because he represents a way out of her predicament? And if she
doesn't want
to be his wife, is it because she is in love with someone else or because she's afraid of something?
Does the character want something impractical?
This is a question that only the other characters in the story can answer. Suppose a girl in a Nebraska farm town wants to be a high-powered New York businesswoman, and the writer proceeds to make that wish come true. At the outset her family and friends may well believe she is being totally unrealistic. On the other hand, the writer may have other plans and elect to hit her with a strong dose of reality by keeping the dream far from her reach.
Where can the character get what he wants or needs? And who or what stands in his way?
These are plot-development questions.
The first one establishes the target. If, say, a rancher in the Southwest wants a bigger ranch to raise his cattle and he finds out it can be had in Montana for just a dollar an acre, the writer may pack the rancher and his family into their wagons and move their herd in that direction.
But it's always the second question that truly cranks up the plot. So the writer dreams up things to place in the rancher's way—obstacles such as cattle thieves, bad weather, Indian attacks, the death of a trusted cowhand, a prairie fire, and so on.
Who can help the character get what he wants or needs?
Another plot-building question, a follow-up to the preceding one. If someone like this exists in the story, he mayor may not be a major character; regardless, this individual acts as a door-opener, a conduit. Suppose a father expects his son to take over the business. But the mother may know it is the last thing the son wants, that he wants to pursue something more dear to his heart. The question is, what will the mother do to relieve her son of the responsibility his father has placed upon him?
Is there someone else who wants what the character wants?
Still another plot-building question, obviously. If two people want the same thing, a rivalry is established in the story. Stories about power struggles, for instance, often use rivalry as part of their equation. So do love stories.
To get what he wants or needs,
is it
necessary for the character
to
give up something?
Wants and needs often come with a price tag. For the love of a woman, a king of England had to give up his throne. Likewise, fictional characters often find themselves forced to give up something they would like to keep, so they can acquire something else they want or need. Thus the politician may achieve the high office he desired, but lose his treasured privacy in the bargain. And a husband may need to admit to his homosexuality, yet at the same time face losing the respect of his family, friends, and coworkers.
Following this introduction are the categories. They are in alphabetical order, and most of the attending information is in the form of questions. The questions are few in number, more like starting points than anything. Indeed, the mind of a good writer will generate far more questions than this book could ever possibly offer.
Finally, no effort has been made to be specific; that is, you won't find such clear-cut "wants" as, say, wanting to buy a car or be chosen as the prom queen. Instead, what you will see in this section are mostly broad concepts, under which the specifics your character desires can be relentlessly pursued. If you do not already know what your character wants, doesn't want, or needs, this section may draw you closer to that knowledge.
Now, here are the categories.
Does the character have a thirst for excitement? Does the threat of danger attract him? Does he like taking risks, doing something just for the hell of it, surprising or shocking others, or making them stand in awe? What will happen if the character is deprived of adventure or if the adventure turns deadly?
Doesn't want: boredom, monotony, the commonplace.
What kind of affection does the character want or need? Friendship? Sexual love? Public adoration? Has he previously been denied it? Did he have it and then lose it? Where does he think his chances for affection lie, and is he right? And what will happen if he doesn't get it?
Doesn't want: unfriendliness, solitude.
What wrong does the character think he has committed that leads him to want to relieve his conscience? What can he do to achieve that end? Does he wear his guilt openly, or is it hidden? And what will happen if he feels he has not gained atonement?
Doesn't want: condemnation, resentment.
Does the character want to be beautiful himself? Or does he want to surround himself with beauty,
e.g.,
lovely home, attractive furniture, fine artwork, sleek automobile, a good-looking spouse, cute children, etc.? How does he define beauty or ugliness? And what will he do if beauty eludes him?
Doesn't want: plainness, ugliness.
Does the character want to transform? Improve? Regenerate? Convert? Reform? Rehabilitate? Revolutionize? Or substitute something? Is his desire for change rather constant—that is, is he always unhappy with the way things are and tinkers endlessly with things—or has he only become dissatisfied with one thing? Who stands to benefit from the change, and who does not? Is it a cosmetic change, or something deep and reverberating? And what will happen if the change doesn't take place as he likes?
Doesn't want: the status quo.
If the character wants comfort, how does he define it? Is it being free from financial worry? Is it a job that does not cause stress? Is it a marriage in which he or she is the recipient of the spouse's devotion? Is it the satisfaction that comes with knowing that he has achieved great things? Is it just an easy chair, a good book, and a drink alongside? Perhaps a conversation with old friends? And what will happen if no comfort is realized?
Doesn't want: discomfort.
From whom does the character want or need a commitment, and what will this commitment entail? Why is it so important? Is a promise that will affect a great many people, a small group, or just the character and the individual making the commitment? What will happen if he cannot get a commitment, or, if he does, the commitment becomes broken?
Doesn't want: unwillingness, hesitation, diffidence, indecision, irresolution, capriciousness, indifference, spiritlessness.
If courage is desired or needed, is the character afraid that he will not display it at the appropriate time (like the main character in
The Red Badge of Courage,
who was fearful that he would run when thrust into battle)? Does he desire courage to satisfy himself or someone else? Will this courage be required for an extended period of time, during which time his resolve will be tested again and again, or does he want it to visit him in a burst of undeniable glory? Does he want this courage to replace his cowardice? Is it needed to burnish an ego?
Doesn't want: cowardice, dishonor, self-hatred, timidity.
What does the character want to destroy? A life? Several lives? A way of life? Evidence? A few rules? Customs? Inequality? Does he seek destruction because he is malevolent, or does he see himself as having a high moral purpose? What will happen if he becomes unable to be destructive? Besides himself, who wins and who loses if he is successful? Unsuccessful?
Doesn't want: preservation, restoration.
If a character wants equality, does he want it for himself or for others?
That is, does he envision himself as a torchbearer for broad-ranged justice, or does he just want what he believes his background and performance merit? Is his desire for equality born out of a concern for all human beings, or is it narrowly focused? And what will happen if the equality he cherishes is not forthcoming?
Doesn't want: inequality, prejudice.
Who or what is the character trying to avoid, and why is he making the effort? Is he a fugitive from the law? Is there a certain subject he doesn't want brought up? Is there something he doesn't want others to know? Does he want to avoid someone from his past? His in-laws? The press? His boss? Is he a recluse who would like to evade people altogether, and will this pique their curiosity? And what if he encounters the very person or thing he wishes to avoid—and at a time that is quite inopportune?
Doesn't want: challenge, confrontation.
Does the character want to be married? To be a part of large unit of in-laws? Perhaps experience the joy of being a parent, with all the responsibilities that entails? If so, does this mean pregnancy or adoption? Is a male or female child desired? Is a male child needed to carryon the family name? Is the child wanted because another child has died? What will happen if no child is forthcoming? What if marriage never occurs?
Doesn't want: bachelorhood, barrenness, childlessness, impotence, spinsterhood.
Who or what does the character wish to forget, and how old is the memory? Is it something he regrets or a moment filled with sorrow? If he has seen, heard, or experienced something that he wishes would fade with time, will that memory be so obliging or will it remain to haunt him? And what will happen when he is reminded?