Ties that Bind and Define – The Family of Your Protagonist
By John J Kelley | November 5, 2017 |
Two weeks ago, my siblings and I helped my mother move to an excellent assisted living facility within a mile of my childhood home. That’s the easy explanation, a breezy summation which masks the heart-wrenching path of the past year, from growing concerns over physical and cognitive health, to a rushed winnowing of household possessions to furnish a single room, to standing near as Mom said goodbye to her home of nearly six decades. The simple statement avoids another aspect which caught us all by surprise, the emotional toll of chafing against traditional family roles, both mother to child and sibling to sibling. Suffice to say the process was punctuated by eruptions of frustration as we lurched toward a destination we could no longer avoid.
In retrospect, it is no surprise that during my return flight I struggled to enter the world of Tell the Wolves I’m Home, Carol Rifka Blunt’s debut set within a stilted, dysfunctional family household. Perhaps, in some ways, the read should have offered solace. After all, my family had successfully navigated a painful task, joining together as families must. But I suppose the bruises were too fresh, the lessons still unclear, to fully counter a natural resistance. Yet as I forged my way through the pages, I found myself pondering the family at the heart of my first novel, as well as the one in my current manuscript. And, in a most writerly fashion, questions began to churn.
Specifically, I pondered how depictions of family can offer a window into a protagonist’s core character. Similarly, I considered how fictional families, not unlike real ones, can challenge a protagonist unlike any other external or internal force. Here are a few ideas drawn from the exercise:
The Origin Story
Fans of comic books and even some devotees of the movies that followed, such as myself, are familiar with the concept of a superhero – or supervillain – “origin story.” The origin story is the installment that explains the circumstances, whether by chance or intention, in which powers first appear, and the psychological transformation that follows as the hero or villain assumes the role offered, or thrust upon them, in response to their newfound abilities. Origin stories are crowd favorites and, as such, are often reimagined over time, incorporating contemporary concerns and social dilemmas to attract new audiences while balancing the expectations of the old.
Of course, if one strips away the razzle-dazzle superpowers, an even more universal story remains. We call them coming of age tales, in which questions arise as a protagonist shifts from lessons instilled by family toward a maturing inner voice to light their way forward. And what became clear as I considered a number of favorite reads was this — every protagonist possesses his or her own origin story. Regardless of whether the story in hand is that coming of age tale, the key ingredient for compelling reads of nearly any genre are characters with strands leading back to the events which lifted them, or sent them tumbling, to the ground they inhabit in their present story. So as writers the question we must continually ask is whether the plots we construct, and the emotional journeys we craft, honor and reflect the fundamentals of our protagonist’s origin.
Expectations and Motivations
But how does one accomplish this? I think it starts with stepping inside your protagonist to appreciate the expectations that weigh upon them and the emotional touchstones that drive them. I now see how the recent issues with my mom not only raised questions on my role within the family, but also underscored advantages I gained simply by being the youngest, thus avoiding the tumult my older brothers and sisters experienced. The realizations give me a new perspective on my characters, an awareness of burdens they may carry from their childhoods, some obvious and others buried deep. Perhaps, too, your own characters have wounds you have yet to discover. Maybe, for some, the injury is a family that expected nothing, and gave nothing but neglect. Whatever it may be, the question you should ask is how those experiences color their current relationships. Have your characters risen above their histories, or are they bound to demons from the past? Either way, those roots can feed the conflicts within a story, and breathe life into its climax.
Piercing the Emotional Core
Of course, family conflicts sometimes do more than support a story. Sometimes they take center stage. These are the tales populating the vast genre known as family drama. And, boy, do families know how to ramp up the drama! As Whitney Otto explained in her bestselling novel How to Make an American Quilt, “No one fights dirtier or more brutally than blood; only family knows the exact placement of the heart.”
If you are writing a family drama, or if a scene in your work in progress involves a family fight, keep that advice in mind. Letting the sparks fly may well offer a prime opportunity to expose a protagonist’s unresolved or repressed anguish. Family members can cut to the quick when they feel cornered, as should your writing when capturing those moments.
Conversely, moments of reconciliation with family, and those times when families pull together, provide powerful ways to highlight a protagonist’s growth. Such scenes, or shortly thereafter, can be an opportune time for a character to achieve some measure of self-acceptance, even closure. It works that way in real life too, and so it should in our fictions. I should know. Despite the ups and downs, my mother has indeed found a new home, a safe one within a thriving community. And I, for one, could not be more delighted that she has.
These are a few of my observations regarding family as a way to shed light upon a protagonist. What are your experiences? Do stories come to mind that depict family realistically, or in a manner that heightened your perception of the characters? How do you incorporate a protagonist’s origin story, or depict family relationships, in your own writing? Are there family matters in your current WIP that warrant a bit more fleshing out? Please share. I am curious how others see and develop family relationships within their own stories.
[coffee]
John J Kelley crafts tales of individuals at a crossroads, exploring themes of growth, reconciliation and community. His debut novel, The Fallen Snow, about a young soldier’s homecoming at the close of WWI, received a Publishers Weekly starred review and earned an Honorable Mention nod at the 2012 Foreword Reviews Book-of-the-Year Awards.
Born and raised in the Florida panhandle, John graduated from Virginia Tech and for a time served as a military officer. Today he lives with his partner in Washington, DC.
John,
Thank you for a moving and insightful post. Having gone through a similar journey with my mother over the last five years, your experience resonates very deeply. Dealing with seismic changes in my mother’s life (all of our lives, really!) afforded me both dizzying highs and gut-wrenching lows. But as time has passed, it’s obvious to me that the gifts have far outweighed the difficulties. I learned things about my mother, my siblings, and myself, that have shifted my view of my world. And I am SO down with the origin story. I finally wrote one for my protagonist and it felt like taking a huge deep breath. Thank you for a wonderful post, and I wish you well, with your Mom.
Thank you, Susan. The experience has been enlightening and, yes, at times gut-wrenching. Mom has proven a real trooper too, and I never forget she is the one facing a situation that in the end is simply another part of living.
Thanks for your support, and your vote of confidence on the origin story. I too find it invaluable in peeling back the layers of my characters.
Be well and happy writing!
Thanks so much for this post, John. I love this point that you’ve made (and totally agree) that “as writers the question we must continually ask is whether the plots we construct, and the emotional journeys we craft, honor and reflect the fundamentals of our protagonist’s origin.” For me, the richest work in writing is that examination of how a character’s internal world (formed by varied circumstances, including, most profoundly, their childhood) impacts the outer – their choices, the current path they’ve taken, the mistakes they make. My current novel (out on submission) is about young adult siblings coming to terms with the murder of their father by their mother and while lots happens in the present of the story it circles back again and again to the origin story that was the seed for it all. It seems that I’m fascinated with the wreckage wrought from lousy childhoods, the long-lasting echoes created, and the way ‘people’ (characters) manage to pull themselves through messy circumstances towards freedom. I hope that things improve for your mom and she finds an enriching new start in her new place.
Your story sounds fascinating, Lauren. I also seem drawn to darker topics and damaged souls in my writing, with occasional breaks to focus on a lighter tale. Maybe I just need a break sometimes😼. Fortunately my own childhood was quite happy, by any measure.
Mom is good, really good in fact, which had come as a relief. She and all of us were worried about the adjustment. But, as they say, so far, so good. She appears quite pleased with her new home.
Best wishes on your novel. May it too find a home soon!
Just popping in to say that this is a genius post. Birth order, sibling relationships, parents marital status– it all deserves consideration, no matter how old the character is.
Yes, they do! Thanks for popping by, and for calling my post genius … smile.
John, about two years ago, my family faced a similar situation with my mother, who at the time was getting 24-hour care in her home, but the money ran out. We had to sell her house—the only boyhood home I knew, the house she vowed to die in—and put her in assisted living.
The time was a maelstrom of emotion for the family, and my mom was striken with sadness over it. The day we moved her in, I left with my sister from the nursing home, seeing my mom sitting alone at a table for dinner among the other residents. It was wretched.
The next day, we all called and she said that she’d met some nice people, the food was good and that she thought it would be OK. That was two years ago, and things are pretty good yet. She’s 95, near blind and can’t hear too well, but still spunky. (And I too had my own advantages—those of being the irresponsible joker—as the youngest of four siblings.)
A novel of mine that I’m setting up for self-pubbing now has three main characters, one of whom is an adult with a distant father she has ever longed to please, but in her mind, has always fallen short. I hope the undercurrents of that haven’t been too obvious or heavy-handed in the story structure, in her expression of near-perfection at work, and closet alcoholism at home.
Thanks for a thoughtful piece.
Thanks, Tom. That’s encouraging to hear. I joked with mom a few times that I’m the introvert, whereas she actually enjoys the company of others. But there is some truth to that, and I could tell within a day of her moving in that she was engaging folks. For as much as she loved her home, our childhood home, its walls had been closing her in for some time as well.
As for your book, may it find a good audience. The topic is timely, and universal. I think there is an entire post to be written on how one crafts a family drama without tipping the boat 🚣 in one’s actual family. It was a concern of mine even in writing these few paragraphs.
At any rate, thanks for the message. Best to your fiesty mom as well. May she remain so for many years to come.
I’m glad you are feeling good about your mother and her new living place, John. What you did is exactly what my brothers and I did for our mother–and again in the zip code she had lived in all her life. A few years in assisted living and then the memory unit. My mother had dementia and died in 2013 at the age of 97. She was amazing and so of course family life is part of my WIP. But the mother in my novel is the opposite of mine, though the longing for the deceased father remains and exactly mirrors my own life. My father died early on leaving my mother with three children under six. Stuff of fiction. But I focus on the absence of the father. Family life is story–there is no doubt about that.
Absolutely, Beth. Family life is story, for as long as humans have shared stories, I imagine. And when we as writers heed the advice to write what we know, particularly on matters of the heart, our own family experiences will – and should – guide our hands on the page.
Your mother was a hero to your family. And though I know you must miss her, I am glad you all took such care of her in return. I am glad too that some aspect of her is reflected in your writings. That’s a great gift both to her memory and to your own family.
Be well, and thank you.
I loved reading this, John, and it did spur thinking that gets me closer to one character’s family conflict. You get at the heart of a powerful source of motivation…and redemption!
I’m glad, Elissa, first that you like the post and especially that it may nudge your thinking on one of your characters. Ultimately that is what WU is all about.
One additional thought that didn’t quite made it into the post was the idea that writing about families is probably more natural than writing about other situations. As long as we avoid cliche and easy answers (do family conflicts even have easy answers?), most of us can likely supply details and nuances from our own experiences. We do in fact know the placement of the heart, in both good times and bad. Moreover, the emotional rhythms of families, regardless of financial or physical circumstances, are more similar than they are different. All of this means we likely can slip into whatever family we depict, letting scenes unfold or, unspool, naturally with just a light touch on the tiller to keep the story on track.
Far from your point, but it came to mind so there you are ;). Now I’ll get back to writing before I babble further. Have a good day, Elissa.
Excellent post, John! I’m so glad your mom has settled in. Mine was the gregarious one, too, and when she finally agreed to a go to a retirement community (“That’s for OLD people!), she was much happier.
Your thoughts about family dynamics are helping me add depth to my WIP. We never outgrow the influence of our birth order, I think, but family blowups between adults can bring to the fore long festering secrets, misunderstandings and/or hurts. You’re right that knowing the origin story and decades-long history can add power to those scenes. Thank you!
Your welcome, Barbara. I’m thrilled to hear it helped.
Btw, I really apppreciated your insights on Tell the Wolves I’m Home in the WU discussion. And thanks for the friend invite!
Write On!
Thank you, John. This is a compelling and helpful post. I am planning the first book in a new mystery series that involves my protagonist going home to both solve a murder and address her festering family pain. Your insight about origin stories has given me some ideas. Best wishes!
Best wishes right back at you … hope the detective work 🕵️ on your new protagonist is as revealing as you need it to be. Cheers!
Thank you for this, John. I often think that family story is at the heart of how we all behave, especially in dire circumstances. An adult child from a disastrous family will have no idea “in the clinches” of how to break the chain as a parent. My WIP is historical fiction about a famous ancient family. In all the research there is little consideration given to the family dynamic and the effects of it on the actions and beliefs of the next generation. I am trying to imagine it all now.
My apologies for missing this comment when it appeared, Lucinda. I was actually spending a couple of weeks with part two of my own family story, sorting my mother’s things and preparing her home for sale. Fortunately, she is adapting well to her new home while my siblings and I settle the affairs of her former.
Having gone through the experience, and after seeing the impacts on relationships within my family, a family I “thought” I knew yet have been forced to reevaluate, I doubt I’ll ever look at my characters again without delving deeper into how familial relationships shape and at times bruise them.
I’m glad to hear you are undergoing a similar transformation on your current WIP. I hope the exercise yields a stronger basis for your story. Write on!