Agonizing Over Antagonists
By Keith Cronin | May 12, 2015 |
Like most writers, I keep a backlog of story ideas that I revisit from time to time, trying to decide what to write next. To help me with my choices, I analyze each idea, testing whether it has what I consider the essential components of a compelling book-length idea: a clear protagonist, strong primary conflict, high stakes, character transformation, etc.
In doing so, I found an area where my ideas consistently fell short: most of the ideas did not have a clear antagonist.
I know that’s not necessarily a dealbreaker – there are plenty of books that don’t have a specific character acting as an obstacle or an opponent to the protagonist. Particularly with books that emphasize self-discovery, the protagonist herself can sometimes be her own worst enemy. But when I look at a lot of the books (and movies and TV shows) that really sweep me away, almost all of them have a clear – and usually very memorable – antagonist.
For example, consider the antagonists in this literary dozen:
- Water for Elephants (as well as Sara Gruen’s new book, At the Water’s Edge)
- The Help
- Heart of Darkness (and the film it inspired: Apocalypse Now)
- Harry Potter (pick any one of the series)
- One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (Nurse Ratched, anyone?)
- Jaws
- The Stand (Randall Flagg – AKA the walking man – still creeps me out)
- No Country for Old Men
- Moby Dick (Hmmmm – is the antagonist Ahab, or the whale? Tough call…)
- Red Dragon (the book that introduced us to Hannibal Lecter)
- The Lord of the Rings
- The Devil Wears Prada
I may not remember all of their names, but I damn sure remember the characters, and the hell they put their respective protagonists through. So if we hate these characters so much, why do we want them in our stories? I have three theories.
1. It amps up the conflict.
Ideally your protagonist is facing some challenges. Those challenges can be made infinitely worse by having somebody whose goals and desires are in direct opposition to those of your protagonist. Suddenly, what was simply a challenge has now become a contest – a test of wills.
2. It makes things personal.
Suppose your protagonist’s primary problem is money: she needs a job. Okay, the job market is tough, so she’s got some conflict ahead of her. But what if she finds out her former best friend is competing for the same job? Or what if she finds out the HR director she’ll be interviewing with is somebody whose boyfriend she stole in the 9th grade? Or, to get more into the larger-than-life area, what if that HR director is a psychopathic killer who has decided to kill the next green-eyed job applicant he encounters, and your protagonist has green eyes? I’m winging it here, obviously, but I hope you see my point. When there’s an actual person standing in the way of your protagonist’s goals, taking active steps to thwart (or even kill) your protagonist, the problem becomes far more personal.
3. It gives us an enemy to root against.
Frankly I think this is one of the biggest reasons for having an antagonist. Why are we so eager to root against somebody? I submit it’s because we’ve all been wronged; we’ve all lost to somebody undeserving (or flat-out mean or evil); we’ve all been obstructed by somebody endowed with more power than us – whether it’s a muscle-bound bully or a brown-nosing executive. In short, we’ve all seen the nice guy finish last – because we have all been that nice guy.
[pullquote]Why are we so eager to root against somebody? I submit it’s because we’ve all been wronged.[/pullquote]
This leaves us hungry for one thing: comeuppance. And I think it’s one of the primary reasons we gravitate towards stories with antagonists. We want to savor their crushing defeat, which may often include their actual death.
I suspect one reason for this desire is the fact that in real life, we seldom see people getting their karmic due in a dramatic way. Whether it’s in the day-to-day world of office politics and high school locker rooms, or in the higher-stakes world of murder trials and billion-dollar financial scams, we seldom see the bad guy lose everything. So I’d submit that it’s largely a wish-fulfillment thing, this desire to see these despicable villains getting their just deserts.
No mustache needed
Okay, I think we can agree there are some compelling reasons to make sure your book has a bad guy (or gal). Now let’s look at some things to take into consideration when trying to write fully developed characters, not just mustache-twirling villains who say Muwahahahaha every five pages.
1. Bad guys don’t necessarily think they’re bad.
Here I’ll quote myself, from a WU post last year on a different topic: Other than Dr. Evil from the Austin Powers movies, the reality is that most bad guys do not think of themselves as bad guys. They just have differing desires and motivations than the protagonist.
2. There’s often a reason they’re bad.
This is actually a huge opportunity for you as a writer: to create the backstory that explains how your antagonist became such a monster, whether she’s a tyrannical fashion magazine editor or a serial killer who only kills (and eats) people he considers rude. Done well, this can even make us root for the villain, either reluctantly or overtly. But even if you don’t want us rooting for your villain, you at least want us to care about her. Don’t waste the opportunity to make this happen!
3. Their badness may exist primarily in the eye of the protagonist.
While this may not always be the case, it’s possible your antagonist could be a star in others’ eyes, but the bane of your protagonist’s existence. The play and movie Amadeus is an excellent example, where Salieri viewed the rising young genius Mozart as a curse, and an affront both to Salieri’s ambition and to his religious faith.
4. Bad guys aren’t all bad – nobody is.
I’ve had this point driven home repeatedly in my life (which has brought more than a few bad people across my path over the years). As a case in point, during a particularly low period in my musical career, I spent some long and demoralizing months playing drums in the house band of a very rough biker bar in Florida, where the majority of the clientele had spent time in prison, and some of the regulars were bona fide Ku Klux Klan members. Seriously.
One of the alpha males among the regular customers was a guy who for safety reasons I’ll call Big Frank. From outward appearances, Big Frank was straight out of Central Casting: he stood a strapping 6-foot-4, with a pot belly, countless tattoos, a Fu Manchu mustache, and a penchant for complementing his leather biker vest with a bright red t-shirt with a huge swastika on it.
Although I tried to avoid him when possible, Big Frank was a gregarious type, and I found myself occasionally pulled into conversations with him while the band was on break. During those conversations, I learned several things about Big Frank, including the following:
- He really was a racist, and a white supremacist. That red t-shirt wasn’t an act.
- He was very intelligent. Despite his hateful belief system, Frank was no redneck dummy. He was extremely articulate, with a keen sense of logic and rhetoric, and a ready wit. Which led me to the most surprising and disturbing realization:
- He could be a pretty likable guy. At least when he wasn’t busy preaching racial hatred.
Getting to know Big Frank triggered some serious cognitive dissonance for me. A man I instinctively hated on sight turned out to have some redeeming qualities. Don’t get me wrong: I was still diametrically opposed to most of his views, and I considered him overall to be a bad man – but a pretty likable guy.
[pullquote]Getting to know Big Frank triggered some serious cognitive dissonance for me. A man I instinctively hated on sight turned out to have some redeeming qualities.[/pullquote]
The memory that has stayed with me the longest was when one day, out in the parking lot during a break, I saw a biker couple walk up and greet Big Frank, who was clearly an old friend of theirs. The woman had a tiny baby girl with her, and she handed the child to Big Frank to hold. I stood with my jaw agape as this hulking brute with a shirt with a freaking swastika on it eagerly took the baby from her, and held her tenderly while he cooed lovingly to her, a huge smile on his face. And the baby was utterly content in this man’s arms.
My long-winded point? Even the baddest bad guy probably isn’t all bad. So if your antagonist is, you might want to weave some goodness into him or her.
Fitting big badness into “smaller” stories
During the examination of my own story ideas, I realized I was finding it difficult to develop antagonists when writing relationshippy, emotion-focused stories (we can argue later about whether relationshippy is a word). In analyzing this, I think my difficulty stemmed from the fact that I personally don’t deal with people whom I consider out-and-out antagonists in my own life. Sure, certain bosses, coworkers, neighbors, relatives, and other people may annoy or impede me, but I’m pretty diligent about refusing to give them enough power to become emotionally significant to me. As a result, they never really take on the role of antagonist or nemesis.
While that may be a decent coping mechanism for real life, I fear it has worked against me as a storyteller, particularly in my efforts to tell a “bigger,” more high-impact story.
Does this mean I have to write about explosions and car chases and serial killers and sparkly vampires? I don’t think so (not that there’s anything wrong with any of those things, unless they’re written by Clive Cussler). Instead, I think it’s worth exploring ways to raise the stakes when developing an antagonist in your down-to-earth story.
[pullquote]It’s worth exploring ways to raise the stakes when developing an antagonist in your down-to-earth story.[/pullquote]
For example, maybe those down-to-earth problems your character deals with are not so small. After all, that antagonist at work could cause your main character to lose his job, and with it, his health insurance, which he needs for a medical condition that threatens his young daughter’s life. Or maybe that bitter ex-husband stands in the way of your protagonist adopting the child they were never able to have together, by trashing her reputation with the agencies and social workers involved in the adoption process.
Bottom line: even normal people with no superpowers or lethal weapons can wreak life-changing havoc on those they oppose, so I now think there’s plenty of potential for a powerful antagonist – and powerful conflict – in even the more “quiet” fiction many people prefer to write. At least that’s my theory…
How about you?
Do your stories have clear antagonists? If so, do those characters have any redeeming qualities, or have you written them bad-to-the-bone? Who are some of the antagonists who’ve lingered in your memory long after finishing a book, movie, or show? How do you flesh out the most reprehensible characters in your own fiction? Please chime in, and share the badness!
Image created by the awesome (and free) Breaking Bad Generator.
Author of the novels Me Again (originally published by Five Star/Gale), and Tony Partly Cloudy (published under his pen name Nick Rollins), Keith Cronin (he/him) is a corporate speechwriter and professional rock drummer who has performed and recorded with artists including Bruce Springsteen, Clarence Clemons, and Pat Travers. Keith’s fiction has appeared in Carve Magazine, Amarillo Bay, The Scruffy Dog Review, Zinos, and a University of Phoenix management course. A native of South Florida, Keith spends his free time serenading local ducks and alligators with his ukulele.
You said it perfectly: ‘in the day-to-day world … we seldom see the bad guy lose everything’ – or nobody would ever do anything bad. Swift retribution after every misdeed, what we would want for others, doesn’t happen.
Not very often.
Which means the rich get richer by doing reprehensible things because they can, and the poor and otherwise disadvantaged get more disadvantaged every day.
Life isn’t fair.
At the same time, most of us were taught to try to be fair.
So the dichotomy is set up early.
Being a writer is the best way of getting Schadenfreude: we can make the villains pay – and pay spectacularly. And readers will go along for the ride with glee.
I have written the best kind of villain: not only does she lose in the end, but she makes the lives of the others far better – entirely by accident. Things never would end the good way they will end without her ‘help.’
It has to gall.
Alicia, what do you mean life isn’t fair?!? I refuse to believe it! (NOT)
You raise a great point about the dichotomy of being taught to act as if life were fair, even though we ultimately have to accept that it isn’t. And I absolutely LOVE this:
“Being a writer is the best way of getting Schadenfreude: we can make the villains pay – and pay spectacularly. And readers will go along for the ride with glee.”
Thanks for chiming in!
Keith–
This post is a gift, for which I thank you. Your beautifully-told story of Big Frank dramatizes the most troubling feature of evil. That is, troubling for those who can see and grasp the dislocating truth presented to them, when a stone-freak racist cradles a newborn and coos to it. The quick fix for writers is to demonize the demon, the antagonist. But a little reflection will quickly reveal how true your four points are, especially #4. It’s one of several litmus tests for me as a reader: has the writer served himself up a slow-pitch heavy to hit out of the park, or not? If he has, it’s time to close the book and move on to something more honest.
Thank you very much for the kind words, Barry. Sounds like you’ve seen true badness firsthand.
And regarding the “slow-pitch heavy” you mentioned, I recently set aside a very popular novel because it seemed the author was trying to hit me over the head with how evil the bad guy was – it got to the point where I was expecting him to club a baby seal while stealing candy from a baby, all while jaywalking. I may pick the book back up again, but it the antagonist stays that cartoonishly evil, I’ve got better things to do with my time. Looks like I’m not the only one who reacts that way.
One of my favorite antagonists is Stephen King’s Cujo. The big, crazed dog fits many of your criteria. He doesn’t know he’s bad and there’s a solid reason for his badness, so he remains sympathetic. Then he threatens a child and the family pet becomes a true villain. Great story. Like Moby Dick, Jaws, and Cujo, the antagonist does not need to be human. Come to think of it, the antagonist does not even need to be a living being. Spielberg invented a vile machine in Duel, his first full-length movie. The rusted-out semi chased our common-man hero over hill and dale. Christine was another wheeled villain. The Terminator is an obvious example. West World’s gunslinger, Gort in The Day the Earth Stood Still, and HAL in 2001: A Space Odyssey are other great examples.
Great examples, James! I had forgotten about Cujo, but you’re spot-on with your observations.
I think one of Stephen King’s greatest gifts is the ability to take us into the mind of a person – or a creature – who is deeply disturbed, to the point where we can understand what is motivating their monstrous behavior.
Great post, Keith! You’ve listed some wonderful points to consider for my WIP.
When I wrote A Keeper’s Truth, I wrote with a series of 3-4 books in mind, so the ‘bad guy’ was only present in the first book via a pawn. It made sense at the time, but in hindsight the character is so one-dimensional it hurts. Lesson learned.
When I wrote GOT, I wanted the perfect ‘bad guy,’ and I believe I accomplished this; she teeters on the brink of good and bad, the reader never quite sure what she’ll do next, and her motivations, although seen as cruel in the eyes of the protagonist, are pure in her mind. She does the wrong things for the right reasons and has her own arc to boot. She’s not only three-dimensional, but a character my readers love to hate.
Also, a key I learned when developing my ‘bad guys’: make them someone close to the protagonist, someone with a personal connection. Poop hits the fan much quicker when the one with the good arm is close.
Thanks, Keith!
Dee Willson
Author of A Keeper’s Truth and GOT
Thanks, Denise! Sounds like you’ve now got an excellent handle on The Badness. :)
And this observation is a winner: “Poop hits the fan much quicker when the one with the good arm is close.” Love it!
One of the scariest books I ever read—couldn’t open the book after sunset—was THE SHINING. The evil of the Overlook Hotel creeping into Jack’s head and using his weaknesses against him and his family still creeps me out. The most frightening thing about it deals with the idea that “we are our own worst enemies”, which underscores your #3 of NO Mustache Needed: “Their badness may exist primarily in the eye of the protagonist.”
How our protagonists view events and people is the key for how easy or difficult their journey will be. Isn’t this the main conflict for couples in Romances? The more inappropriate our protagonist’s perspectives the more satisfying their transformation will be once clarity dawns.
Our greatest challenge as writers is to allow ourselves to go to those dark places.
Major food for thought here. Thanks Keith!
Thanks, Jocosa – when you said, “Our greatest challenge as writers is to allow ourselves to go to those dark places,” I couldn’t agree more. It’s by far my biggest challenge. Well, that, and commas, of which I am entirely too fond.
Great post!
I think creating a believable antagonist is a vital process to writing a great story. I find it to be a difficult task because in my life I have never known anyone that I regarded as an actual villain. I have met my fair share of challenging people, but they weren’t malicious. I knew they were struggling in some way or their goals opposed mine for some valid reason, even though it frustrated me. While I try to use that understanding to create an authentic antagonist, in the end the antagonist usually weakens the opposition once caused or the protagonist is too forgiving, because that is the way I am. I think the best way to counteract this is to focus on #3, keeping the protagonist in a state of mind against the villain, and not let the protagonist achieve insight to the antagonist as early in the story. Basically keep the misunderstanding to a maximum and the communication to a minimum…isn’t that the key to drama?
By the way, I write relationshippy (love that “word”) stories as well. Sometimes it seems like it would be easier just to have a killer on the loose.
Thanks!
Julie, sounds like you and I are similarly “villain challenged,” although I can’t say I’ve never met a truly malicious person – I’ve met plenty.
In addition to the strategy you’re following, maybe look for ways to amplify the kind of problems you’ve had with “challenging” people – raising the potential impact of their annoying behavior to a more life-impacting level. Just a thought – thanks for chiming in!
Haha, I like relationshippy. It reminds me of the word “thingy”. It was my oldest son’s fallback word.
I love Wilson Fisk (The King Pin) from the new Dare Devil Series.
SPOILER ALERT!!!!!! HEY! HEY! SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!!!!!
SPOILER ALERT!!!!!! HEY! HEY! SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!!!!!
SPOILER ALERT!!!!!! HEY! HEY! SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!!!!!
By the end of season one I was rooting for the good, bad, and the ugly.
The Protagonist and the Antagonist had similar goals, but different paths. Even their internal struggle was parallel. Also, the morale compass was questionable for the protagonist and stellar for the antagonist at times. It was a bit of a roller coast ride.
IT WAS BEAUTIFULL!
In the end, the bad guy lost, and I was left with conflicting emotions, because I wanted Fisk and Dare Devil to win. The writers would not let me be a spoil brat, though. They didn’t give me everything I wanted. Bravo!
Brian, I’m not familiar with Dare Devil, but I love how many comics can blur the lines between good and evil, showing how it’s seldom a black-and-white distinction.
That’s what intrigued me about Breaking Bad – a rare show in which the protagonist ultimately becomes the antagonist. What made the show so addicting is how easy it was to relate to the transformation Walter White was going through, even though he really became a monster by the end (or so I understand, since I bailed out when the show got too dark for me). Despite bailing on that show, I have huge respect for the writing, acting and character development, and think there’s a lot to learn from it.
Keith, I served on a jury some years back on a rape case. What rape isn’t ugly, but the circumstances of this one were notably vicious. The dissonant thing for me was my reaction to the defendant. He was a nice-looking man who looked the jurors in the eye in an even-handed way throughout the case. His manner was calm and engaged.
The most horrible part for me, after learning the details of the case, was that I’d had an instantly positive feeling from him when I first saw him, which colored my thinking—though not my verdict, which was guilty on multiple counts.
I’ve thought about that case and my reaction to that man many times. He is fodder for an antagonist character that could get under a reader’s skin, though the vileness eventually would out.
Tom, isn’t it weird and unnerving when evil doesn’t look the way we expect it?
Sounds like you got some great fodder out of what must have been a powerful and pretty unpleasant experience. I hope you write a character based on how this affected you!
Hi, Keith:
One thing I learned early on working criminal defense: bad guys aren’t the one-dimensional monsters they’re cracked up to be. And good guys aren’t flawless icons of virtue, either.
My checklist for writing a good opponent (which is the word I use, since it has the least negative confrontations):
1. Who or what does the opponent love?
2. Who is his tribe? Who would he lay down his life to protect?
3. What way of life is meaningful to him, and how far would he go to protect it?
4. How does he justify what he does?
5. How can I make the conflict more like Forman vs. Ali instead of Jesus vs. Satan?
Number 4 is the trickiest, because it can get philosophical instead of personal — but that’s okay as long as you always remember to bring things back to earth.
I find most opponents have a much more articulate (if distorted) vision of individual freedom vs. social justice than I do, and believe that pursuit of one’s own ambition justifies any harm to others that may be caused — “That’s their problem, not mine.”
But I always try to make that argument plausible, emphasizing individual responsibility and an adult view of risk and the uncertainty of the world. Not so much “It’s all about me” as “It’s up to me and no one else to achieve what I need to achieve.” That can be noble or evil, depending on what it is the character actually seeks to achieve — or what they’re willing to do to get it.
The difference between a good guy and a bad guy often isn’t what they want, but the methods they feel are justifiable in getting it.
In exploring all this, I always keep in mind: Justify, don’t judge the character.
I refuse to let my students use words like “narcissist” and “sociopath” for this reason — that’s a judgment, not a justification. It’s a way of looking AT the character instead of seeing things from within, getting into his bones, understanding his perspective.
Last, I agree that opponents often appeal because of the wish-fulfillment element of storytelling. We want to see them pay, because they so often don’t in real life.
But if you don’t make them real, fully rounded and recognizably human, that wish-fulfillment will seem a bit childish on even slight reflection.
I think the wish fulfillment is always more engaging if the reader is forced to think: Christ, I know that guy — what if it was ME against HIM?
Great post. Big Frank says hey. Or was it heil?
Wow, those are some great insights, David, made all the more powerful by the firsthand way you acquired them. Thanks for sharing them!
And this is a great point to keep in mind: “The difference between a good guy and a bad guy often isn’t what they want, but the methods they feel are justifiable in getting it.”
I also like your take on considering the character as simply “the opponent,” without applying moral judgment. Seems like that approach can go a long way towards humanizing the character, rather than just trying to find the right style of black hat for him to wear while he twirls his dastardly mustache.
Good stuff – thanks!
Interesting article and thanks for posting this.
I had this discussion during a writing class. How can you make people identify with your antagonist?
Well, some people might actually identify with the demon lord. He can be quite charming. They’ll probably be rooting for him at the end.
The baroness, on the other hand, will do anything to destroy the male dominated society. She’s patterned after Elizabet Bathory and enjoys torture. There’s not much to identify with there and I think showing her liking bunnies isn’t going to work. Sometimes bad people are just bad people.
Julie, I agree with you when you say, “Sometimes bad people are just bad people.” I know not everybody believes that, but I do.
That said, I don’t think the task is to show this bad person “liking bunnies” in order to make her more empathetic or relatable. :) Instead, a more interesting approach might be to show the reader how this character got so damn bad in the first place. And perhaps the pain points you expose in the process can be used by the protagonist in his or her final conflict with the antagonist. Just a thought.
Ah, this is great! I do desperately need help with my villains. They are far too 2-D. This post helps soooo much!
Thank you!
Beautifully written. You’ve increased my understanding of a difficult film.
I so agree. Every good book needs a villain. It is a way to explore the characters psyche even more. I’ve always found it easier to have the give and take between the two.
Keith,
I loved your story about Big Frank. I have a friend who creates this ‘cognitive dissonance’ in me. He’s intelligent and well-educated, with a ribald sense of humor. But the first time a blatantly racist remark tumbled out of his mouth, I felt this big internal flip-flop. A klaxon went off in my head. I even questioned whether I’d heard him right. If we can give this ‘dissonance’ experience to a reader (Hannibal Lecter did it for me), then we’re doing our job as writers. A nuanced antagonist with a deep back story is irresistible to me. In writing a bio for my own Antagonist I found myself feeling sorry for him. I know this emotional ‘dissonance’ showed up on the page after several revisions because I heard it back from readers. Proof in the pudding. Feeling compassion for the bad guy can deepen the reading experience. Thanks for such a thought-provoking post.
If you managed to create a good antotogonist he can be the key to success of your book. The charismatic villian are paid more attention to than to any other character in book. Lets remember Joker, for example, or Moriarty.