Stop Talking about Character Flaws · 4:49pm Jan 1st, 2016
This is basically my sequel to "You Are a Mary-Sue (And So is Cthulhu)", where I talked about how I feel like the term "Mary-Sue" is a bankrupt critical concept which doesn't accurately describe the problem with characters because the definition is too broad and too easily twisted. If you haven't already read that- though honestly given I've got like five of you who are dedicated readers of this blog, so you all probably have already- feel free to go back and check it out now.
One of the oldest writing-criticism canards I've seen since I started writing is the admonition to give your character "flaws". as if this is a key attribute to character building that no compelling character may be created without. This is usually coupled with some sort of canned justification behind why adding flaws to characters is such a necessary part of writing. "Unstoppable characters are no fun to read about". "Perfect people aren't interesting." "It's a boring story if the hero can never lose." You get the idea.
Well, I say boo sucks to that. The key to building a well-rounded character has absolutely nothing to do with flaws. In fact, I'm going to argue that the flaws-make-characters method of giving criticism is absolute horsehockey.
Let's start by establishing my goals here- I'm not saying that flawed characters aren't necessary or interesting or that they don't add realism or richness and depth to a story. I'm examining the critical buzzword "character flaws", a term which at this point is being abused almost to the level of "Mary-Sue". I've had a nagging problem with this particular chestnut for quite some time now, but it's taken almost a year to really sit down and think about the best way to express that particular problem. Evidence: I'm posting this on the first day of 2016. Go figure.
When people advise writers, particularly inexperienced or young writers, to write "flawed characters" I feel like they're doing the object of criticism a disservice if they don't elaborate at least a little bit. There are a few reasons for this. The first is that quite often, a distinction isn't drawn between faults in a character's personality and weaknesses in a character's powers or capabilities. A new writer is sometimes told that their "Mary-Sue"* main character needs "flaws" or "weaknesses", but not what kinds of flaws or weaknesses are appropriate to the character. The critic fails to draw a distinction between the need for an adventure or action-based story's protagonist to have credible weaknesses and challenges in order to create tension during the dramatic combat or chase scenes, and the need for characters in general to have well-rounded personalities in order to immerse the audience in their existence. It's as if instead of taking the role of a critic, the well-meaning reader has taken on the role of a DM. "No, I'm sorry, your starting sheet can't be that big. You need to take at least a few flaws if you want to buy that many feats."
The thing is that while this mentality is great for mechanical storytelling generation like role-playing, it's not as useful for writers who are trying to tell a story because it tells the inexperienced writer too little about what their story really needs. A story has to be examined on several axes to really understand what makes it good or bad- genre, tone, character, plot consistency, and a host of smaller sub-categories that feed into those larger ones. There are a hundred million tiny concepts in any given piece of literature that inform it, and inform our understanding of it as readers. The key to growing as a writer and as a reader is learning to see those tiny concepts and how they fit together in interesting, subtle ways. This growth is never going to happen all at once. Some writers are literally too young to think in terms of those abstractions, in fact- readers too. I wrote my first stories when I was twelve.
That doesn't mean it isn't a great idea to encourage people to think in those terms, though. Instead of focusing on telling people their characters just need "flaws", I believe it's far more important to focus on something I'd like to call the "integrity" of the story for want of a better term that I'm aware of. This "integrity" boils down to the answer to two simple questions "do the actions taken by the characters match the framing of the story?", and "is the story I'm reading something interesting?"
The answer to the second question is often highly subjective based on the individual biases and tastes of particular readers, of course, so the more important question for a new writer- or any writer, really- to have an answer to is that first one. Are the actions and traits ascribed to the characters consistent with what the story says about them, explicitly or implicitly?
This is the real problem with most characters labeled "Mary-Sue". The Narrative of the story describes them as skilled, powerful, impressive, and virtuous. Then you actually begin to read what they do in the story, and you aren't impressed. For prime examples of this kind of hack writing, Fred Clark's blogs as he dissects the Left Behind series provide endless fodder, notably in his examinations of central characters Rayford Steele and Buck Williams the GIRAT. To give a quick summary of these, Buck Williams is stated to be the Greatest Investigative Reporter of All Time, but when we see him actually doing some reporting it's mealy-mouthed blandness, and he has nothing of a good reporter or detective's sense of curiosity or drive to find out and- er- report, on the events taking place around him. Rayford Steele is described as a model of Christian manhood as the stories in Left Behind progress, and yet he expresses this sense of honor by being a misogynistic prick and failing to show adequate concern for his fellow men. This disconnect is obvious before you make it fifty pages into the first novel of the series, and destroys the credibility of the novels before it has a chance to even establish itself.
Or as an alternate example, how about Lucki again? I referred to that story in H.P. Lovecraft vs. Hasbro, even bringing up the Left Behind comparison, but I believe it's worth repeating. Lucki's protagonist- er, Lucki- is a selfish jerk. Throughout the story she abuses the one pokemon on her team who does want to do the whole travel-with-a-trainer-and-battle thing by denying him the support and decent assistance he needs, always blaming him for losing fights which, really, were her own damn fault. She then takes a Shinx who's just a little kid away from his mother, takes a pokemon repeatedly stated to be smaller and weaker than others of her species and throws her into a battling environment she's vastly uncomfortable with, kidnaps a Tropius who was protecting the rest of his herd, and ultimately captures a pokemon who repeatedly says she doesn't want to be there and holds her against her will. All the while she is presented as being "in the right" for the majority of the adventure, right until everything falls apart. The difference, of course, is that in the case of Lucki, this is an intentional effect being created by the author for the purpose of illustrating a particular writing flaw in the genre. It all boils down to disconnect between the actions a character takes, and what the narrative seems to think about those actions.
So how do you get that across to a new writer? Well, rather than tell them their character needs "flaws" and expect them to understand what they're lacking, how about instead taking a few minutes to cite specific examples in the story where a scene falls flat because of a disconnect between what it's supposed to be and what it actually reads like? If scenes don't work because they portray the canon cast as less competent than they should be, focus on that instead of focusing on the lead character being "too competent" or "needing flaws". If a character does something that the story thinks is impressive but really isn't, point out why that thing isn't impressive. If an action scene lacks tension because you don't believe a character is capable of having anything bad happen to them, point out why you think that.
Providing counter-examples is also useful. Recommending new shows to watch, new books or comics to read, or new games to play can spur the imagination of a younger writer and get them to understand the problems with their story in a more intimate way by showing them a similar story concept done right. When really young authors try to write supernatural action stories with blood and fighting and constant character one-upping (particularly anime-influenced stuff), I usually recommend watching select bits of Jojo's Bizarre Adventure or HunterxHunter, and point out how the vulnerability or weakness of certain characters in various scenes is what makes what they do afterward cool. If a story is lacking in an emotional core, I'll recommend some of my favorite stories with strong ones- crappy shipfic writers usually get referred to better shipfic writers, and crappy slice of life stories usually get referred to authors like Mark Twain and O. Henry, who get conversational details so very right even if they aren't exactly modern.
The one thing to never do is just to tell a writer to add flaws to their metaphorical character sheet, though. It's one thing to have a character with flaws.
It's an entirely different thing to understand how to play them.
*For the purposes of this little essay, we can also substitute "Red and Black Alicorn OC" if you feel so inclined, which I think is a more accurate description of boring, poorly -thought-out leads in this fandom. Alternatively, "Fandom Spike", "Anon", or "Displaced Slenderman".
Basically, don't give writing advice that is only a phrase or a single sentence. Good writing is freaking complex and proper instruction/criticism/assistance should be fairly detailed with examples and explanations for each piece of advice.
The best way I've run into this specific idea is someone who said that the mistaken idea is that a good character = perfect guy + flaws. You can't just staple flaws onto a character and expect it to work. A character needs to have both flaws and advantages built in from the ground up. Flaws are not a coat of paint you slap on afterwards.
Also runs into one of my personal little think-projects. A lot of early writing advice, the kind new writers are aimed at (or get aimed at them) is less good writing advice and more trying to adjust for a lot of common mistakes. Though many of them are common mistakes that everyone thinks early writers make, which may or may not be the case. A lot of how-to-write books I'm pretty sure are just the same bulletpoints passed around and around. So for better or for worse, a lot of beginning writer's advice isn't actually writing advice. If that makes sense? It's trying to re-balance a new writer so they can be leveled out before learning the actual skills.
Also, directly to the right of this reply text box I'm typing in is your post On Pinkie Pie. Which just has the first four lines. I keep glancing over and reading them and it's starting to become a repeating chant in my head. Kinda weird. Don't have any point to make, just wandering brain.
This essay was pretty good overall, but I think you should add some parts where you are wrong.
I don't think it's realistic for me to agree with someone on nearly all points and it really brings down the entire experience. Please add a few misunderstandings and false facts that I can point out and it would be much better.
On a more serious note, I recently found a better definition of the Mary Sue character that, while not perfect, does make the term more usefull.
It basically states that a Mary or Gary Stu is a character that enters a previously established setting and warps it into being all about them. The established rules mostly don't aply to them, they seriously mess up established character relations making them focus on them, and they become the "moral centre" of the story. Everything they do and say is right and the established characters are warped into agreeing or disagreeing with him/her regardless of how they feel or don't feel in the previous canon.
This also explains why a character as Batman or The Punisher can be a Gary Stu, but still be enjoyable, and a self insert character that basically is the same but inserted into another context can be very annoying.
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I'd say the broadest working definition is still what the story tells and shows being disconnected. Contradicting previous material is just one part of what we're shown contradicting what we're told, because being aware of the previously-established setting is what makes the 'warping' of relationships so obvious. Essentially, the real difference between a bad Mary-Sue character and Batman is that a good writer can sell Batman as a credible and engaging concept, but bad self-inserts are often, well, bad.
Another level is, of course, the ability to engage reader interest. Nobody wants to read about self-inserts because often they're bland and void of personality or charm, where Batman is grim and stoic but surrounded by a rogues' gallery of crazy people he plays straight man to. Hell, his stoicism is even played for laughs on occasion. Sometimes self-inserts are horrible people and the story treats them as if they were heroic figures, the the disconnect is so obvious it takes you right out of the story.
That, to me, is why I guess I can see why Mary-Sue is a useful term to keep around, but I still feel like it's ultimately one of those critical buzzwords you don't need to resort to when explaining the problems in a text.
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Fair enough, but I think it is important to keep the history of the Mary Sue in mind.
As you might know the term originates from the fanfic "A Trekkie's Tale" where the infamous Mary Sue is written as the first self aware parody of overpowered story warping self inserts. It was written as a reponse to the overwhelming amount of these awful fanfics that were written during that time and was especially meant to be about these characters that ruïn established canon.
One of the reasons Mary Sue became a more meaningless buzzword is because people applied this terms to other characters they didn't like.
You can of course make the argument that the term has evolved since its conception in the 70's, but as you yourself stated it has become too broad. If we wish to continue using this term it may be practical to simply go back to its roots and only use it in the situations it was originally meant for.
Or we can just stop being lazy and actually start offering useful critique, but that's boring.