You Are Your Worst Self (And So is Your Character)

There are two sides to everyone.

(Well, actually, there are at least 5 sides to every man, and 80 to your average woman, but for the sake of simplicity, we'll say everyone has 2.)

There is the good side, and the bad side. We sometimes see this represented as an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other.

If you look closely enough, though, past the costumes, you can see that they're really both just you.

And that can be good. It's good to know that the voice of reason, the voice telling you to get your work done on time and help old ladies across the street and not kick the dog after a long day at the office-- that's you. That's part of who you are.

But that other part... the part whispering in your ear to blow everything off and go to Las Vegas for a few days, to leave the old lady stranded on the corner and duck into the bar on that street and, even if you don't kick the dog, don't pet him either-- in fact, leave him in the apartment while you go see that movie with all the nudity and swearing... that's part of who you are, as well.

Too often I hear people attributing the voice of reason and duty to God, and the voice of temptation to the devil. It's a kind of magical thinking that I think estranges some people from the majority of their own personality. They give themselves both too much credit and not nearly enough, by believing that all truly bad thoughts come from outside of themselves, and all truly good thoughts do, as well. They have trouble with this grey area, the fact that they, as human beings, are good and bad. The fruit of the knowledge of good and evil. You are what you eat, after all. 

Let's take me, for example. I've spent a few days dwelling pretty solidly in Bad Emily territory, at least as far as this blog is concerned. I totally abandoned the poor thing, and now that I'm back, this post isn't even the post I was supposed to do today. And I had no good reason. I had the time. I had means, motive, and opportunity. I like to think I have some excuse, because someone melted my brain, but really it's on me to mop up the puddle of my rational mind and wring it back into my brainpan, and I simply didn't.

I am my worst self. I am flaky, fickle, spaced-out, underachieving, constantly procrastinating, impatient, indecisive, and easily frustrated. That's who I am. 

That doesn't mean I don't spend time fighting those facets of my personality. 99% of the time, I am my own worst enemy. And so is everyone, including your characters.

In every story, there is an antagonist: someone who embodies the worst of your character, the person who stands in the way of their goals and prevents their happiness. But a strong story recognizes that at the end of the day, the antagonist isn't the one preventing the hero from attaining peace and joy and a happily-ever-after. Your main character has to recognize that they, in some way, have been in their own way. 

Structure-wise, this moment usually occurs right after the "all is lost" moment. The character tried something, it failed horribly, everything went wrong and it seems like the enemy will win-- but then the character has a revelation about themselves, sees the error of their ways that caused their failure in the first place, and adjusts accordingly. Now, empowered with their self-actualization, the hero can go on to successfully defeat the bad guy.

This change is crucial. It can't be left out. Why? Because without it, you don't actually have a protagonist. The protagonist of the story is the one who undergoes a change, after all. That's part of the definition of the word. Because as humans, we don't just want to read about futuristic societies where people shoot laser guns from their moon-base houses. We want to read about how the developing technology of laser guns and leaving Earth affect the human race. A mutant space-rat just isn't that interesting without some psychological and moral ramifications for the characters.

It's important to remember that the good and the bad, in your character and in yourself, aren't actually separate. They're like conjoined twins, joined at the brain, and can never be severed. Like two sides of a coin. 

You might be brave, but your bravery makes you callous and reckless. Once you realize this, you can work towards suppressing your recklessness when appropriate, but you can't cut it off. It's part of you, and it's part of a good trait. Maybe your character is the opposite. Maybe he's rational and careful, which has always served him well, but the downside is that he's slow to act and a little cowardly. Your story would then be about how his rational nature slowly leads him into a conflict which he can only escape by defying his cowardice and doing something unexpectedly impulsive and dangerous. 

In the story of me writing this damn book, I feel like I'm at my "all is lost moment." In order to turn things around, I am going to have to figure out how to keep flipping the coin of my personality back towards the easygoing and flexible side of the coin, away from the flaky and unreliable side. It would be so much easier if I had an evil overlord to fight or a dragon to slay-- instead, I've got to skewer my own fear of rejection, and bind my tendency to leave things half-finished with some kind of laser net. 

It's a battle against myself... but I guess, one way or another, I'll win.