Note: After a long break, this is the fifth in a series of editorial observations and writing advice garnered from my time back as a full-time professional editor and writer. Forewarned: I may or may not bring Jesus into it.
I recently edited a political novel. Overall, it was hilarious. My report to the client was mostly glowing. She had done so many things well. Great pacing. Good structure. She had a knack for setting scenes and landing a joke. But she messed up in one area—a biggie. Many of her characters fell victim to caricatures.
The heroes—of one political party—were all very smart, very witty, very charming. The villains—of the other political party—were all gross, witless, and very, very stupid.
Black and white.
Good and bad.
Cut and dry.
Broad brushes.
Now, I am what I call a “bake the cake” editor. That is, I don’t have to agree with the political or theological or sociological position of my client to take on their project. And if I do take on a project, my job is clear: to help make their book the best it can be. I might push back on points, but it’s only to help the author make their case better—never to say they are wrong (which is not to say I don’t think it!).
So my concern with this client’s project wasn’t so much that I aligned politically with those dirty, witless, and very stupid characters. My problem was that the writing wasn’t true.
She created characters that no one would believe. No one would recognize. At least, I didn’t (note: I do work from home and don’t get out much, so maybe I’m wrong!).
Her heroes and villains, her supporting characters and sidekicks had no nuance. No gray areas.
And nobody, no party, no religion, no town, no nothing is all bad or all good.
We know this in our heads. We all know that the bad guys have to have at least some redeeming characteristics and the good guys gotta have their flaws. That’s what makes characters interesting and stories true—even when they’re fiction. Especially when they’re fiction. These nuances allow us to understand motivation, understand one another.* That’s how we connect and consider and grow.
The trouble is that we’ve lost this sense in real life—and it carries over into our writing. Our day-to-day stories, the stories we hear on the news, the stories that wander through our minds, that come out of our mouths, that are projected across social media and in stump speeches from the wanna-be leaders, have become so untrue.
Often literally and at great expense.
But even when the stories aren’t completely fabricated, the expense to humanity can be just as great.
When we start thinking in terms of “those people” or describing folks with different views or voting habits as “wicked” or “evil,” as “clowns” or “fools,” we flatten them as characters and as humans.
And while this is disastrous in our writing, it’s even worse lived out.
Don’t get me wrong: There are wicked people. There are beautiful people. There are good people, bad people, wise people, foolish people. There are cruel people. There are kind people. There are people who stir hope and those who peddle fear.
But no one is all those things at once. Whether they are characters in our stories, candidates on the stage, or voters in the booth. And even when we’re disappointed by what we hear someone say or by what we see someone do, it’s important to remember that.
And if we truly want to make better societies, we have to see each other as complex characters. It doesn’t mean we can’t discern who we want to vote for or hang out with. And it doesn’t mean we can’t push back or challenge folks on their positions. But it does mean we must stop maligning.
At least, I must. And my client had to. I’m guessing this is true for most of us.
So, as we Americans wade ever deeper into this election season, I’m going to do some deep breathing and see if I can’t practice what I’m preaching. Because, I have to be honest, some days I am yelling at the TV or my social media feeds. I just cannot believe people would spread vicious lies about refugees for God’s sake! And, to be honest, I can’t believe there are people who support this.
And yet, as hurtful and hateful as I find stuff like this, as a person of faith, I need to remember that while I am called to speak up for the oppressed and downtrodden, I’m to love neighbors and enemies alike. And part of that process is being humble and merciful, as Nadia Bolz-Weber recently wrote about, ditching the easy, false binaries, and seeking to restore some sense of our shared humanity.
And part of this is living out what I’ve always told my kids: to seek to understand. We have to seek to understand—motivations, hurts, fears, longings, everything—as writers and as neighbors. Doing this requires asking more than preaching and listening more than shouting.
It’s not easy. It’s much more fun to paint the other side as one bad thing or the other—especially when we’re confused or heartbroken how our friends, neighbors, or family members can believe or support views we find appalling.
But we’ll never get anywhere if the characters in the stories we write or the ones in our lives are all extremes. There’s no understanding in that. There’s no grace in that. There’s no love in that. And therefore, there’s no change in that.
If we want better stories and if we want better societies, let’s work on our characters and—Lord help us—our character.
And if you are able, make sure to vote!
Peace.
Caryn
*I recently listened to Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood. Not sure I’ve ever read anyone portray pretty “bad” people who did very bad things so richly. I felt bad for everyone throughout—even as I wanted justice. Though, not the death penalty.
Creating Good Character(s)