Calling Doctor Freud: Putting Your Characters in Therapy
By Elizabeth Solar
“I don’t know what to do about Nora.” I recently confided in my Goldendoodle, trusted canine companion and literary advisor.
“She’s belligerent, totally unreasonable. I ask her to do one thing, and she tells me to go… well, you know. Storms upstairs, and locks herself in her room. She’s definitely hiding something.”
Did I mention I’m talking about the protagonist of my novel?
Characters. If you’re writing a story, you need them. Otherwise, who does the heavy lifting that involves taking action, and helping move plot?
Occasionally, one or more characters suffer from arrested development. A number of scenes reek of déjà vu, with our protagonist up to the same ole, same ole page after page. A once-charming quirk now seems annoying. Smart banter is unworthy of a Hallmark card. Suddenly humorless, she’s tense and nervous, and she can’t relax.
Oh wait a minute, that’s me.
When a character, especially your protagonist, becomes withholding, resistant to change, lying dormant like a stick figure rather than radiating humanity like their three dimensional counterpart, it’s time to bring in a professional. Trade in the writer’s den for the analyst’s couch. It’s time to put your character in therapy.
Nora, who we last left sulking in her bedroom, has issues, most of which come by way of childhood trauma. Many of her wounds are self-inflicted. Doctor-patient confidentiality prevents me from specifying further.
Without a rounded, dynamic, engaged protagonist who evolves – or devolves depending on the journey – plot flounders. A story sags unless it’s inhabited by people, as opposed to symbols, who leave their mark in an imaginary, but high-stakes world. Setting, whether beautifully poetic, or darkly foreboding serves only as travelogue if it doesn’t provide a backdrop, literal or metaphorical, for a hero we care about. Voice, without a flesh and blood person to embody it, is rambling commentary.
Getting back to therapy, let’s eavesdrop on the session.
Therapist: “Nora, you seem a little preoccupied.”
Nora: “You seem a little smug.”
Therapist: (makes a note) “Last time, you mentioned you distrust your boss.”
Nora: “Trust issues? Can you be any more cliché? ‘Unstable protagonist in therapy.’ Real original.”
Therapist: “Cliché? Cliché! I kept you out of therapy in the book, to avoid cliché. You ungrateful twit!”
Okay, not my finest therapy hour. However, when your character is stuck, asking questions helps you get a better handle on personality, history, predilections, prejudices, desires. Which could lead to understanding how they think, and act. Which may provide stronger motivation and enriched backstory. Which leads to a creating a stronger, more specific character, ready to invigorate your story.
Start with a simple “How’s your day going?” Often, you get the obligatory, ‘Pretty good,’ or worse, ‘Great!’ As guarded conversation takes random twists and turns, active listening provides an opportunity to ask thoughtful follow-up questions. Get an answer? Write it down. Keep asking. Be gentle, but firm. Go deeper. An empathetic nod here, encouraging smile there. Persist, but don’t badger. You’re now in the circle of trust. It’s going so well, then BAM! A question too far. Arms fold. Eye contact ceases. Total. Radio. Silence.
Ah ha! You’ve struck a nerve, and hit literary pay dirt. Sure, there’s initial resistance. She may clam up for days on end. Keep digging. Eventually, as with most therapy, there’s a breakthrough. It may not be a total emotional rescue, but you will rescue your character-- and quite possibly yourself -- from being stuck in an emotional cul-de-sac.
