Sympathetic vs Likable Characters

In my reviews, I talk a lot about characters and whether or not they're sympathetic. Many writers want their characters to be likable, especially their main character. After all, the reader has to spend an entire book with the main character, and why would they devote that much time with a character they didn't like? It can sometimes get tricky to keep a character likable, especially when characters begin doing unethical things in the name of the greater good. At what point does a character stop being likable? At what point do they stop being sympathetic? Though the two are related, they are definitely two different concepts that many writers get mixed up. Writers can sometimes become so obsessed with making their character likable that they forget to make their character sympathetic.

But what is the difference? 

When your character is likable, they are someone your reader enjoys reading about. This relies more heavily on personal preference and so it's sometimes impossible to create a universally liked character, though many writers lose sleep trying to create one. A character can be two dimensional, crude, rude, erratic in their actions, and completely unsympathetic, but they may still be likable if there is something about the character the reader connects with and enjoys. A character can be likable because they are sympathetic, but they don't have to be sympathetic to be likable. 

When your character is sympathetic, they are doing something or expressing ideas that the reader can approve of. They are working to save their world, rescue their parents, save their love interest, etc. Even if as a person, they are incredibly unlikable, your character can still be sympathetic by doing the right thing. 

For example, in my review of The Outliers, I talk about how much I disliked the main character, Wylie. This was mostly due to personal preference, as Wylie did things and said things that I thought were rude and uncalled for. However, her overall motivation throughout the story-- saving her best friend-- was something I could sympathize with, and therefore I could continue reading. It's like the idea of people working together in a crisis-- I can deal with not liking a character based on who they are, so long as their actions or ideas are sympathetic. 

But where do you draw the line? How do you know if you're writing a likable character, or a sympathetic one? Or neither? Or both? 

As I said, creating a likable character can be frustrating and nearly impossible, mostly because it generally comes down to personal preference. There are people who love Voldemort, despite the fact that JK Rowling made no attempt to make him likable. You cannot control how people will respond to your characters, just as you can't control how people respond to your personality. So don't even try. Don't focus on making people like your character, make your character consistent with who they are. If you want a stubborn character, don't tone down that trait to make them more likable. Embrace the stubborn part of your character, make it consistent through their actions and reactions, and readers will like your character for being true to themselves. 

On the other hand, creating a sympathetic character is something a writer does have control over, and should pay attention to. Generally, it's not hard to make your character a sympathetic one. Plot motivators tend to make for sympathetic situations-- needing to rescue a loved one, stop a catastrophe, free people from suffering, etc. But you don't need those external motivators to create sympathetic characters, as their beliefs and ideas have a big impact on how the reader views them. For example, your character may be a high class thief only out for personal gain, but their decision not to hurt people while on the job instantly makes him a sympathetic one. 

External elements to create sympathy are the easiest to do. Internal motivators to create sympathy have a much stronger impact. Your character can have both external and internal motivators to create sympathy, or only one or the other. Toeing the lines can create interesting character dynamics and is something authors tend to do frequently. 

In the Second Sons Trilogy by Jennifer Fallon, the main character, Dirk, has external motivators to make him sympathetic, but no internal motivators. He is working to save the kingdom by toppling a corrupt system, not necessarily for the betterment of his fellow people, but more because the structure of the royal court puts him in danger. He is all around unlikable-- arrogant, snobby, and really doesn't do a single nice thing throughout the whole series unless it serves him, despite the fact that he is doing the "right" thing. Jennifer Fallon admitted that she intended to do this with Dirk-- she wanted to see how bad a main character could be while still keeping the reader on his side. And it certainly worked! By the end of the series I thought Dirk was pretty much the scummiest guy you could meet, but he somehow still managed to remain the hero of the story. 

On the other side of the coin, in Vicious by VE Schwab, the main character Victor has internal motivators without much in the way of external motivators. He chases down his best friend who has become a serial killer, and though his expressed motivation is based on revenge (which doesn't make him overly sympathetic), he does acknowledge that he thinks what Eli is doing is wrong. So even though his external motivation is a choice of him getting revenge, his internal motivation makes him sympathetic as it shows he cares about others. 

Characters can be a hard balance. I speak from experience, as they've always been something I've struggled with. But managing that balance, once you have it, makes your book so much stronger overall. 

So, since I threw a lot at once, to sum up: 

Likable Characters are those who are liked by the reader, for one reason or another. All characters are likable in some way. Likable characters are based on reader preference. Generally, good deeds = people like your character, but the reasons a character is likable are as varied as types of literature. 

Sympathetic Characters are those whose actions, motivations, or beliefs, whether its proclaimed from the rooftops or inserted subtly, create sympathy and approval for the reader. They approve of the hero's journey, or at least their reasons for the journey. 

External Motivators for Sympathy are external forces that put the character into a situation that garners sympathy. They can be as literal as people locked in a cage needing to escape, or pressures from other characters to do things they don't want to. 

Internal Motivators for Sympathy are more the beliefs and morals held within the character that propels them to take action and creates sympathy in the reader. They can be stated outright or implied. They still inspire sympathy and originate from the character's belief system. 

Hopefully this helps to shed some light on what I mean when I talk about sympathy vs likability. So writers out there, relax, take a deep breath. Stop pulling your hair out trying to make your characters liked by everyone, and just make your characters true to themselves. 

When Books Take Flight

Photo help/credit goes to Adrian Gaucher (@nobodieshero). He's got skillz!

In meme theory, there's this idea that ideas are alive, subject to evolution, reproduction, death and extinction like any other creature. The theory can sometimes be questionable at best, but I think in the case of stories and books, it is absolutely true. Any reader will tell you a novel is alive, that a story has the ability to completely transform them and their worldview, as well as remain alive in them for many years.

A good book, story, snippet, quote, semblance of words, whatever, has the ability to touch on deep human emotions. It inspires and sparks something in you, even if it's as simple (and "simple" is of course taken with a grain of salt) as your enjoyment or a love of a character's witty or sassy voice, something resonates there. The best books stay with you for years, you dwell on their ideas and characters, spend time creating fanart or participating in discussions, write fanfiction, reread the book, and most importantly, talk about it with those you care about. When we find something really special, we want to share it with others around us. This is where the meme theory comes in. Truly well-composed books that resonate and inspire want to be shared, and meme theory argues that it is not us sharing them, but the stories controlling us in order to live on and reproduce, like any other creature.

Not long ago I took a look at my bookshelf and noticed something odd. Almost all my shelves were filled with books I didn't particularly enjoy, or that I had given up on, or that I read but hated. But, when I thought about my reading experience, I didn't remember bad books. I remembered all the wonderful stories that I had read, the ones that truly made me feel and motivated me, and realized that, one by one, I had given them all away.

There are some collectors out there that are probably aghast at the thought that I have lost so many books simply by "lending" them out to people and then never seeing them again. Some were given away with the knowledge that they weren't coming back, such as with giveaways, where I get so excited about a book that I have to give it to someone, anyone, so long as they'd appreciate it. I like to think of it as the best books growing wings and taking flight, ideas growing and wanting to spread and evolve. The ones that are the most alive, the most vivid, end up flying off in the hopes that someone else will be touched and inspired by the story.

A book is often not born of one person anyway. Sure, there is someone who sits down and pens the story, but writing a book, as the acknowledgements will show, is never a one man job. There are editors involved, agents, beta readers, friends and significant others and writing partners that offer tips and ideas and changes. All of these edits and ideas are offered through so many different lenses. Seemingly, a writer doesn't write the book at all, and it comes to being all on its own. Wouldn't that be nice. The metaphor definitely ends there, as any writer knows that though sometimes the ideas seem to come together out of nowhere, it definitely takes a butt load of uphill work before anything looks remotely story-like.

It may seem like a whimsical and silly way to look at writing and creativity sometimes, but often when I get touched by something really special, like Dreams of Gods and Monsters and the rest of the Smoke and Bone trilogy, it makes me want to believe in whimsy and magic. At the end of the day, behind every bit of magic, there is hard determination and passion. And as a fellow writer, I'm always trying to dissect what about a book makes it so magical, and how I can achieve similar responses in my readers. After all, isn't it every writer's dream to write something that has that bit of magic in it?

I've learned a lot of things from studying the books that have really touched me. What makes them so magical? Of course, they need to have the fundamentals down.

1) A solid plot with little to no flaws or holes with intricate devices that keeps the story interesting and interwoven. Loose ends and holes can sink even the strongest stories.

2) Dynamic characters with conflicts between each other that are both interesting and sympathetic. The best characters are those with well thought out flaws and strengths with places to grow and fail as the story progresses.

3) A consistent tone/voice that sets it apart from the competition.

4) They must touch on something real.

Real? What is real? It's that bit of magic that turns a good book into a great book. That bit of heart that takes it to the next level. Donald Maass, literary agent, once wrote that it involved touching on timeless human experiences that many people can understand or relate to. A superhero book by Perry Moore called Hero did this by touching on the real lives behind his superhero characters, the wounds in their lives, whether they were physical, emotional or otherwise, and his main character who learned the true strength of his healing powers. Though this story was told through the lens of a superhero world, it still involved real world issues that people can relate to, even just emotionally.

In Dreams of Gods and Monsters, many could say that Laini Taylor's Eretz and its struggles of independence are no different than any other major fantasy story out there. What truly sets it apart, of course, is the originality, tone, and its ability to really touch on why this dream is so important to these characters. Yes, they want to save their world, but at the end of the day they just want to be together, in peace, in a world where people didn't have to hide and fight and die. But the way Taylor presents it is such a raw, emotional way that you really feel the loss of war and the yearning for the dream. The heart behind it is what elevated this book out of good to great, from bookshelf quality to taking flight.

Whenever I sit down in front of my computer, or my typewriter (nerd alert) I always ask myself what feeling I intend to inspire with my writing. What piece of humanity am I trying to touch on? In this scene, right now, what is the reader feeling? Are you only focusing on entertaining them? Because that will always leave you on the bookshelf.

They say every idea has been done. And it has. The difference is the execution, and how much of a heart you give the creature you're creating. A story with a strong heart will fly from reader to reader so it can spread and live on for a long, long time. No heart? No life, and your book will face plant before it can ever take flight.

Peace,

-Katie

The Fault in Our Stars and "Transcending" YA

Let me tell you a story about The Fault in our Stars by John Green.

When I was 11 years old, my brother was diagnosed with bone cancer. A tumor grew on his spine, pressing on his spinal cord and paralyzing him. The next year and a half, my little family went through hell. It was me, Mom, and Matt, and there were 39 blood transfusions, 31 surgeries, 16 rounds of chemotherapy, 25 rounds of radiation, which fried his throat to the point he couldn't eat, and had to have a feeding tube installed (the doctors let him starve for a few months first, the bastards), and he died once on the operating table to be resuscitated with paddles. It's nothing short of a miracle that he's still alive.

So naturally, when I head about TFioS, I had to read it.

If you haven't heard of it, (or perhaps are blind, deaf and without internet, in which case, how are you reading this?) it's a story of a young girl named Hazel Lancaster, who has terminal cancer. The tumors are lodged in her lungs, though she's been granted a few extra years thank to an experimental drug. In a support group for cancer patients, Hazel meets Augustus Waters, a boy who lost his leg to cancer. In essence, the plot seems trite: girl meets boy, girl doomed to die, and together they fall in love, discover truths about life, dying, and being remembered, and set out to meet the author of their favorite book.

It was hard to read, but also freeing. Through Hazel, I saw things as my 15-year-old brother must have as he spent month after month dying in the hospital. More than that, Hazel let me glimpse something I never had before: how my mom must have felt. I started to understand what it must've been like to have a child with cancer, instead of a sibling.

After I read the book, I wasn't quite sure how to put my feelings into words. Stars has amazing crossover potential, but it's also firmly rooted in YA, showing off the best parts of the category, and why I devote myself to it. I spent a few days quietly mulling over it before, one evening with my mother, I told her I wanted her to read it.

My mother is not a reader. She reads, but probably one book a year, maybe two. This was the first book I've asked her to read, because I know although I love my books, she doesn't have the same tastes as me. Stars was different, though. I knew she had to read it, partly because it was a cancer book, but also because I thought she needed to read it. As it helped me understand her, I hoped it would help her understand Matt better, and some of the things he experienced.

When I asked her, she said she'd love to, but as I explained the plot of the book, her face drained of color. Before I finished, she was in tears. She said to me, "What are you doing? Are you trying to tell me something?"

I, of course, had no idea what she was talking about.

Then she told me she had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from our year and a half from hell. She won't touch cancer books or movies. Not to say she avoids the subject, but it's certainly something she doesn't often talk about. We talked for a while then, and I learned a few things Stars couldn't teach me, things only my mother knew.

After that, something even more amazing happened: she read the book.

I'd hoped she would be blown away and it would spark a wonderful conversation about our shared experiences. It... did not. After my mother finished the book, she didn't talk about it for weeks, aside from answering, "Oh, it was good," whenever I asked her about it.

This past weekend, my grandparents came down to visit with us, and while we were gathered around the table talking, my mother brought up The Fault in our Stars. She explained the plot to my grandmother, and talked about the book with gusto. I've never seen my mother talk about a book like this. She went on to tell me how she spent that weekend reading and crying her eyes out. Her least favorite scene? The gas station scene. Something very similar almost killed my brother once, too.

Then, like watching some inspirational film, my mother said, "I think you should read it."

And my ADHD grandmother, whose worse for reading than my mother, said, "Okay," and took the book home with her.

Green's book is powerful. It's life-changing. More importantly, it's a good story. Shortly after reading, I saw a review of TFioS, in which the author wrote: "The book is being pitched as Green’s breakthrough out of the young-adult ghetto and to a wider audience..."

The insult aside, this review got me thinking. When the book was released, a lot of people were talking about its crossover appeal, as well as saying that it "transcended the YA category." It was better and above anything else in YA. Most of these comments seemed to come from individuals who didn't read YA much, so the bit of prejudice is sad, but not surprising.

After spending my time trying to put my thoughts about this book into words, I felt this story better explains the power of a book like this. Yes, The Fault in our Stars appeals to readers young and old. Does it overshadow our "YA ghetto?" No, just the opposite. Stars illustrates everything good about YA. It opens the category up to people who turned their noses down on us.

Does the Fault in our Stars transcend YA? No, it IS YA, with every awkward bumble, every shy smile, every time Hazel lives life and learns from it. It's a book of firsts and learning the hard way the tragedies of life. Some would like to take TFioS from us, but just because something's good doesn't mean it's no longer children's fiction.

TFioS is a universal story. It's a tale with powerful emotions behind it. It comes from the pages and pulls it from the reader. It doesn't turn off certain readers due to particular taste. It's a very plain story at it's base, but the things it addresses are those every human deals with at some point in their life. We all wonder, "What will happen after I die? Will I be remembered?" and though TFioS doesn't have the answers, it makes us feel not so alone in wondering about them.