Age Needs To Be More Than Just a Number For Your Characters

Fiction is full of characters whose appearance belies their age. From vampires and aliens, to elves and mutants, there are a dozen tropes surrounding characters who are somewhere between long-lived and immortal. However, this is one of those areas where the urge to tell often overtakes the urge to show... and you really get way more out of these reveals if you show them to your audience rather than just tossing a number at them.

There's a reason this have been on my mind again, of late, for those who are wondering.

Doing It Poorly...

Giving examples is one of the best ways I've found to make solid points about techniques to use in writing, but I figured we'd get the most out of these examples by starting with the bad ones. And while there are plenty of potential examples out there, the one that bubbles to the surface in my mind is Twilight. I'm not even going to put an affiliate link for that book, that's how negatively I feel about the series, and the imprint it left behind on pop culture.

That's a whole separate blog post.

For this example, I'm going to use the film rather than the text. Simply put, the revelation of the vampire characters' ages tends to be done as matter-of-fact exposition rather than revealed through actions, speech, style, etc. We never have a moment where Edward has oddly dated speech or slang, or where he inadvertently reveals something telling (even if was a simple, "I learned to drive stick shift," cutting himself off before revealing he's older than automatic transitions, to say nothing of modern cars). In much the same way that the signs for him being a strange, inhuman creature are all blatantly just handed to the audience, we just get told his age instead of drawing out the suspense and letting us work for it. As such, it just slides right off of us without impact.

There are other vampire movies that do this (most whose names I can't remember, as they were only shown on Saturday afternoons by hosts with specific, spooky schticks), but we also see it in the original Dungeons and Dragons film. While a slapstick romp that's alternatively fun and cringe-worthy, there's a throwaway line in it where our comedy sidekick is trying to put the moves on an elven woman. Her curt response is to just toss her age at him (something absurd, I think it was in the 800s), and then to move on with her scene.

The issue is that in these examples, being told how old these characters are has no bearing on how we perceive them. It isn't reflected in meaningful ways, and there's no weight behind it. It's no different than being told someone is 26 or 40... we can mentally accept the age, but it doesn't affect the characters or the story in any way that re-contextualizes them.

Doing It Well...

From the other end of the spectrum, when a character's longevity is revealed over time, or in meaningful ways, it can be like a punch to the gut to the audience. It can make us feel for them, and at the same time add so much weight to the story, and their interactions in it, that the fact becomes impossible to ignore.

You probably know where this one is going.

If you've seen the extended edition of The Two Towers, then you already know the scene I'm talking about. However, in case you haven't seen it, for a swath of the film the young blonde Eowyn has been trying to catch our ranger's eye. One thing she does is make him some soup while they're on the trail; she's not much of a cook, but she tried. Then she brings up something funny her uncle said. He remembers Aragorn from when he was a boy, and said the ranger rode to war to war with Thengel, Eowyn's grandfather. Rather than laughing about how the king must be mistaken, Aragorn nods, and says he's surprised Theoden remembers, since he was only a small boy at the time.

We watch as Eowyn re-evaluates what she knows of Aragorn in that moment, going from playful, to surprised, to horrifically awestruck every time she guesses a higher number. Realizing in a way that is real for her, and thus real for the audience, that Aragorn's blood has made him long-lived, and that he has seen and done things far beyond the scope of a mortal's years.

It's not just the revelation that Aragorn is actually 87 when he looks like a rugged mid-30s, but Eowyn's reaction that drives it home. It casts all the skills he's displayed in a different light, and makes us look at him with a fresh perspective. It makes us realize that, for all his nobility, passion, and strength, that he is in a lot of ways an outsider to other people. That those who were afraid of the man called Strider might have had good reason to feel the way they did after all.

There are other instances of similar reveals really adding a lot to how characters are perceived. Wolverine, for example, played on this for years as we steadily realized he was far older than any living mutant on the heroes' side of things. Sometimes it was subtle, with mentions of certain bits of history that he was present for, or showing us skills he'd learned that he'd never showed off before. Other times it was blatant, with flashbacks in the 60s, World War II, and other eras where Logan looked the same as he always has. And in the Netflix adaptation of the Witcher, we see that Geralt is the stoic, grunting, easily annoyed curmudgeon many of us think our grandparents are... and that the mutations that make him so good at what he does might be responsible for his long life. Possibly feeding into the legends that Witchers have no feelings... because on a long enough timeline, everyone you knew or cared about will die, and you'll be left as their children, and even their grandchildren, grow old all around you.

Give Your Years Some Weight

If you're going to have characters whose age defies their appearance (or if it's something people just can't tell when they look at them in the case of strange or alien characters), don't just write a number on it. Writing a number tells us nothing, and gives us no value; it's just a fact.

Make us feel this character's age in big ways, and small ones. Show us the parts of them that never changed, and the little things that make them unique. Give us a glimpse into their inner lives, and show us a piece of their past that can put who they are and what they're doing into context. It's harder, yes, but you'll get a lot more oomph out of it, and it can make a character into an audience favorite if you do it just right.

Also, for more on this topic I'd suggest checking out the 4 Tips For Making Long-Lived Characters FEEL Old over on my sister blog Improved Initiative!

Like, Follow, and Come Back Again!

That's all for this week's Craft of Writing! For more of my work, check out my Vocal archive, or at My Amazon Author Page where you can find books like my sword and sorcery novel Crier's Knife!

If you'd like to help support my work, then consider Buying Me A Ko-Fi, or heading over to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page! Lastly, to keep up with my latest, follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, and now on Pinterest as well!

Getting Back To Basics When It Comes To Anti-Heroes

When you hear the word anti-hero, what comes to your mind? Unshaven men with dirty knives stinking of cordite and blood? The hard-eyed look of a private eye as she pulls the trigger on someone, and walks away as their blood runs down the gutter? Maybe it's the vigilante, out on the streets, just waiting for somebody, anybody, to try him?

Ringing any bells?

However, what would you say if I told you the original characters who fell under this definition were more like Falstaff or Bilbo Baggins than they were Frank Castle? Because language is a funny thing, and sometimes getting back to the roots of a term or idea can give you some fresh perspective on it.

What Makes A Hero?

When you look at Classical heroes, you get a very particular set of attributes that you may not think of in terms of modern heroes. Classical heroes had to be of noble birth (or at least auspicious birth, since many were the children of gods), for example, and their struggles were always for themselves. Their deaths were always unusual or notable, and they typically had no flaws with the exception of their single, tragic flaw. This was the mold that we cast characters like Achilles, Odysseus, and other such O.G. heroes from, and it was the original standard.

Heard you were talking shit. Mind repeating that?

This mold changed over the years, and it was updated during the Medieval period. Heroes in these epics could be of common birth, though they were typically nobles in disguise, or without their knowledge as Reference points out. Their end goals, though, had to be noble ones. They often fought for their lord, or for a cause, rather than for themselves. Also, heroes during this period needed to suffer. The suffering was important, and it had to be physical in order to really fit the mold.

Tortured heroes were very much a literal thing during this period.

In both of these versions, heroes shared certain qualities. They were characters of purpose and action, they were capable, and they were typically dashing, clever, or both. They rarely had any real weaknesses to speak of, and they would typically boast the one, classic flaw that could lead to a tragic downfall (though even that wasn't present all the time). In many of the later cases, the heroes were possessed of powerful ideals, and they always did the right thing.

For modern touchstones, Superman is probably the best example of a character with capital-h Heroic qualities that most of us know.

So What's An Anti-Hero?

An anti-hero is, in essence, someone who is not a hero. That's literally it; someone who lacks the qualities of the hero, but who is still an important character in the narrative (and possibly the protagonist).

Kind of like that guy on the left, there.

Frodo is, in many ways, a Classical Anti-Hero. He's physically small, often doubts himself, has little to no capability in a fight, and struggles with himself at least as often as he does with the challenges of his journey. Which makes sense, after all, as his whole arc is an average guy in a big scary world that he can barely understand as an allegory for a WWI soldier's experience.

By contrast, though, Aragorn is a classical Hero, capital H. He's a noble in hiding, he's capable, he's handsome, he's sure of himself, and he takes decisive action when we follow him. He doesn't struggle with his decisions, by and large, and he inspires others to follow him.

To be clear, here, that doesn't make Aragorn a better character. It makes him a classical Hero. The two are not the same thing.

Changing Times and Language

While Classical Anti-Heroes have always been with us, it was shifts in literature that told the stories of more common (and more mortal) people that led to a strange shift in styles and tropes. Because when most people think of anti-heroes, they tend to think of their methods rather than their qualities as characters.

The idea that characters should be genuinely flawed, and that they should have to struggle, is commonplace in our fiction these days. In fact, if a Classical Hero shows up being effortlessly charming and sure of their actions, people often roll their eyes at them. Where's the struggle, we ask? Where is the grappling with who they are, and what they're doing?

Where is their lack of genuine, heroic quality that makes them more like the rest of us?

Look at them, all leaping tall buildings at a single bound, and shit...

It's interesting that the idea of something that is essentially antithetical to the nature of the hero has become a requirement of heroes in a lot of our modern fiction. That we have changed so much from our old stories that we are more interested in those who are weak, who are scared, or who are unsure than in those who are strong, brave, and certain.

More interested in those who are like regular people, than in the idealized figures who stand above them in many ways.

It's for this reason that I personally recommend referring to characters using specific terms like protagonist, rather than your hero, or getting bogged down in what kind of anti-hero your story is or isn't featuring. Because clarity of language (particularly in the design phase) can make for a much cleaner, clearer project.

Trust me on that one. After all, the character of my last novel is in many ways a classic Hero, though most would consider him an anti-hero by modern standards.

Seriously, go give it a read!

That's all for this week's Craft of Writing! For more of my work, check out my Vocal archive, or at My Amazon Author Page where you can find books like my sword and sorcery novel Crier's Knife!

If you'd like to help support my work, then consider Buying Me A Ko-Fi, or heading over to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page! Lastly, to keep up with my latest, follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, and now on Pinterest as well!