Legendary
By Donald Maass | January 3, 2018 |
Recently, a young agent on my staff requested a really good manuscript. She wanted to represent it. Naturally, so did a number of other sharp-eyed agents and thus my young colleague found herself in a so-called beauty contest, a familiar competitive event in our profession.
To back up my young colleague’s bid, I arranged a phone call with the equally young, appallingly talented young writer of the manuscript in question. I told her about our agency, our orientation to career development, our long experience and the staff who would support her work. The young writer in turn assured me that she really liked my young colleague and knew my company’s reputation, and mine. She said, “I mean, like, you’re a legend and all.”
That stopped me. A legend? Now wait a minute. I’ve been doing my job for a long time. I’ve written a couple of influential books on fiction technique. I teach fiction writing. All true. But legend? B.B. King was a legend. Jackie Robinson was a legend. Ernest Hemingway was a legend. But me? Even taking into account the casual hyperbole of young people, I don’t qualify. Believe me, when I’m scraping the breakfast plates or vacuuming our car, I don’t feel like much of a legend.
This mildly unsettling moment came to mind when over the holidays, when we took our kids to see Star Wars: The Last Jedi. Without spoiling too much, the future Jedi knight Rey seeks out reclusive Luke Skywalker to persuade him to return to the beleaguered Resistance, which according to Rey needs “a legend” for inspiration. Luke however dismisses her, scoffing at his outsized status. After some delay scenes, Luke reveals that he—as he sees it—failed in his training of Ben Solo, who succumbed to the Dark Side of the Force and transformed into murderous Kylo Ren. He spits out the word with ironic contempt: “Luke Skywalker…legend.”
Characters’ backstories come in many varieties, but fairly often authors default to past events that are tragic, hurtful and secret. Protagonists live under a cloud. They’re shadowed, haunted, tormented and burdened by misfortunes or mistakes. Nothing wrong with that, but the prior lives of protagonists can also be built on a foundation of towering reputation, past achievements, high position, notorious crimes or other notoriety that equally complicate their lives.
Some may have established reputations as heroes. Sherlock Holmes. James Bond. Nancy Drew. Conan. Kvothe. Some may be (or become) legends for their achievements. Katniss Everdeen. Martin Dressler. The Mambo Kings. Others may be automatic legends by dint of being rich or patriarchal. Olive Kitteridge. Christian Grey. Smaug. Miriam Raphael (Crescent City). Others may be legendary for their obsessions or ambitions. Becky Sharp. Jay Gatsby. Captain Ahab. Captain Nemo. Others may be legendarily alluring. Scarlet O’Hara. Holly Golightly. Others may be notorious. Boo Radley. John Galt. Harry Flashman. Hannibal Lechter. Others may be legends in their own micro-realms: Evelyn Couch (Fried Green Tomatoes). Harriet Welsch (Harriet the Spy). Bigwig (Watership Down).
Famous or notorious pasts can lead quite quickly to reverse chronology stories, such as Martin Amis’s Time’s Arrow or Jeffrey Deaver’s The October List, but that is not automatic. Great characters can have gigantic reputations, pasts that in the present make them revered, feared, self-doubting or targets.
Enormous pasts not only shade characters, they can propel plots. Destiny can be unavoidable, and I’m fine with that, but what happens when a destiny is chosen? Ask me, it becomes that much more compelling. Nothing wrong with an Everyman and Everywoman thrust into extraordinary circumstances, mind you, but what about heroes and heroines who willingly leap into dire conditions or bravely face danger?
In talking about larger-then-life characters, I don’t mean stereotypes like those hilariously cataloged at TV Tropes. I mean those whose lives and actions are detailed, credible and carefully constructed. Readers do not reject big characters; they desire them. We cheer for Scarlet, Sherlock, Forrest and Hannibal, right? We love to be swept away by characters larger than life, so why not put those same dynamics at work for you, too?
Here are some practical approaches:
What is your protagonist’s greatest past achievement? How did that make your protagonist famous? To whom is your protagonist a hero or heroine? In what way is that reputation deserved? In what way is it overblown?
What don’t people know about that great achievement? What did eye-witnesses at the time over-estimate or overlook? What does your protagonist discount? In what way has that great achievement grown bigger than it was? In what way was it actually more amazing, courageous and exceptional than now known?
What great destiny is inherited, bequeathed or imposed on your protagonist? What is expected of him or her that is not expected of anyone else? For whom is your protagonist responsible? Who depends on him or her? Who has unwarranted faith in your protagonist and believes in a reputation that is not yet earned?
What would make someone a legend in the world of your story? What qualities are lacking in this world? What example is yearned for? If your protagonist could stand for something that this world sorely needs, what is it? What is the biggest test?
In what way can your protagonist be braver, more alluring, more self-assured or more commanding than the rest of us? Who cheers, emulates or swoons over your protagonist? Who is your hero or heroine’s own hero or heroine? Who is your protagonist’s impossible, out-of-reach love?
What did your protagonist do to become notorious? Of what is your protagonist ashamed, or careless about, or perversely proud of? What is good about being bad? Who admires your protagonist’s rejection of convention, rules or law?
Give your protagonist occasions for wit, sneering contempt, unwarranted compassion, high generosity, startling insight, quick thinking, and fearless action. Anchor your protagonist in high principles. Let your protagonist flaunt convention, break a rule, or go out of bounds. For what good reason?
What would make your protagonist a hero or heroine to himself or herself? What must be done? Why is that impossible? Do it anyway.
Legendary isn’t an accident. It’s a destiny embraced and a reputation earned. It’s not only a call to greatness, but greatness inborn. Strong characters are terrific, but equally strong can be characters whose history, position, principles, and reputations demand from them the utmost in human potential.
It’s great when characters struggle. It’s even greater when they struggle with greatness itself. We need things to live up to, and the examples of people who do. To be legendary is within your power—on the page, if nowhere else.
Legendary works on scales both big and small. How might your protagonist become legendary? In what way? What will that mean for your plot?
[coffee]
Donald Maass (he/him) founded the Donald Maass Literary Agency. in New York in 1980. He is the author of The Career Novelist (1996), Writing the Breakout Novel (2001), Writing the Breakout Novel Workbook (2004), The Fire in Fiction (2009), The Breakout Novelist (2011), Writing 21st Century Fiction (2012) and The Emotional Craft of Fiction (2019). He has presented hundreds of workshops around the world and is a past president of the American Association of Literary Agents (formerly AAR).
Good morning, legend.
Of the twenty or so books on writing that sit on the two shelves at my right hand, three of them are yours.
They get used for writing every scene, especially The Fire in Fiction, Chapters 3 and 8, because of the so very practical advice on how to write better.
My favorite take-away? That the more implausible the situation, plot or character, the more words the writer will need to make the reader suspend disbelief. Not an encouragement to be wordy, but an acknowledgement that a reader can swallow anything if he’s properly prepared.
I can’t get out and take writing courses, but I’ve been using the books for years. I think that’s actually better: plenty of time for reflection and practice.
Thank you, sir.
The Legend stumbles out of bed. The Legend grinds coffee. The Legend argues with his daughter about whether she has actually combed her hair. The Legend drives to work. The Legend looks for street parking. The Legend curses a mighty curse, as there is no street parking.
Such is the voyage of The Legend today.
Seriously, thanks for the kind words. I’m particularly pleased you found Chapter 8 of The Fire in Fiction useful. (It’s about micro-tension.) It’s an incredibly important topic, IMO.
Thanks for the opportunity to send a fan letter. I’ve been meaning to do that for a while, wondering if it was appropriate from an indie to the head of a literary agency.
Entirely appropriate, welcome and respectfully appreciated.
I actually have such a character in my first novel– she’s an “Icon” of the feminist movement and early on makes a remark that everytime someone calls her that, she wants to hit them with her shoe. She’s always being recognized, asked for an autograph, fearful of her actions being recorded and loaded onto the internet. Being a legend comes with its own set of challenges – but those types of characters are fascinating to write and to read about. I love your idea of being specific about one thing on which she made her reputation-need to add that in to the MS. Thanks for the thoughts this morning. Always inspirational, Donald. Or should I say Mr. Legend.
Walloping people with a shoe would be legendary, no question!
What a great post to beging the new year, Donald! Thanks for the cogent questions and the courage. It’s your courage, even more than your intellect, that makes you legendary, IMO. You share your courage with us in all your writing, and that gives us courage, too. Thanks, and HAPPY NEW YEAR!
I am even more courageous after morning coffee, though my barista doesn’t seem to notice that. But seriously, thanks.
It’s often uncomfortable to see ourselves as others see us, but they see from a very different place, hence the discrepancy. How can a teacher who exhorts writers to want to change the world NOT be legendary?
Regardless of whether my stories change the world, your impact on my writing has been nothing short of the stuff of legends and heroic journeys.
Thank you.
Lloyd, writing a novel is a pretty epic journey all by itself. Stuff of legend. Looking forward to yours!
Because you always take one question I might have and turn it into at least a dozen other questions I hadn’t yet considered, I prefer the word “guru.” But to each his own!
A lot of great fodder here as always, Don. Happy New Year!
Guru definitely fits. My manuscript has improved tremendously because of those questions, too!
Guru…yes, not bad, let’s go with that. Nice praise from a fellow guru, too! Thanks.
I couldn’t say it better than my fellow-writers, above. Your instruction and your generosity have made all the difference in my work. Because of it, I’m preparing to hand my novel off to beta readers at the end of the month. A novel that now feels like the one I’d wanted to write but wasn’t quite sure how. If, as you say, Legendary works on scales both big and small, then I think you have scored on both points – from micro-tension (my personal favorite) to the embracing of a great destiny. Your post today also reminded me how many of the legendary characters I love so much never saw themselves as heroic, but were compelled by a strong inner compass to do a heroic thing. So thank you, Donald!! And Happy New Year to you and yours.
Thanks, Susan, and Happy New Year to you too.
Sorry, Don, but you are a legend. Maybe you’re not Luke Skywalker, but your reputation and name are much akin to the famed Jedi.
Hold on, though…I am working on lifting stones with mental power! Well, pebbles to start with. Not budging so far, but it’s only a matter of time. Thanks!
I agree with Kathryn that “guru” would be the term I’d use to describe you. “Legend,” which could arguably fit, too, implies someone who is so far up on a pedestal as to be unreachable. Before meeting you, this is how I thought you’d be. I was literally shaking in my boots the first time I had to introduce you. (Yes, I laugh about this now.) Guru implies an approachable and generous teacher, someone with the ability to know exactly what the “student” needs to hear and who is not afraid to say just that. Colorfully, if needed. In my case, it was definitely needed.
Shaking in your boots? Ever occur to you that I am nervous before leading a workshop for a hundred or so intelligent, highly accomplished writers?
(Nah, I’m not, actually, just messing with ya.)
But seriously, thanks. Glad you’re over your nervousness. Totally unwarranted.
Hey Don – Boy, if there was ever a set of lessons/prompts that felt tailor-fit for me, these are them. I think this question of what makes a legend—whether or not that reputation is deserved or undeserved, how it’s grown and perpetuated, and how to deal with the expectations that come with it—lies at the core of everything I’ve written so far.
It’s perfect timing, too. Your prompt about destiny inherited, and “who has unwarranted faith in your protagonist and believes in a reputation that is not yet earned” couldn’t help but remind me of my two protagonists (Vahldan and Elan). As vital as I’ve always known her unwarranted support of him to be, you’ve made me realize there is an ebb and flow to it. In book one, she’s clearly his rudder as he finds his way to actually earning an unearned status. In my WIP, having come partway to an actual earned reputation, he drinks his own Kool-Aid. He starts to buy into that echo of perpetuation and snowball growth that legendary status accumulates in the retelling. And in looking at her (seemingly less supportive) reaction to his new self-importance, I’ve seen that it’s born of faith. She’s seeking to ground him. She’s known “real” legends, after all. She’s seen how it should be done—with confidence anchored by humility and grace. This dynamic is at the core of this book, and I hadn’t truly examined it till now. Thanks much for the epiphany.
Legendary status is such a great storytelling lever. They aren’t just tricky to negotiate, they can be purposefully perpetuated, by the legend or by others, and with various motivations. It’s sort of like a good flat bar—if one end won’t work, the other probably will. For me, it’s endlessly intriguing.
As for your legendary status, thanks for having actually earned it, and for never merely relying on it. We’re the beneficiaries. Happy New Year.
Oh yes, I was thinking of you majorly when writing this post. Your story has much to tell us about leadership and greatness. It’s historical fantasy but couldn’t be more relevant to our times.
Great questions. When I recall the lives of saints it’s their humility that strikes me. They don’t think of themselves as doing anything heroic, rather they are doing what they must.
We just saw COCO and what a great story about remembering family, including the real legends.
Happy New Year!
Humility! Dang. That sparks a whole bunch of additional questions! Thanks!
Happy New Year, Don! Wonderful points about the multifaceted nature of being legendary. (And for the record, I saw Star Wars : The Last Jedi as well, and your anecdote about scraping breakfast plates and vacuuming your car brought to mind a cetrain amusng sequence of Luke’s “day in the life of,” one of my many favorites.)
What you say about bring legendary in an everyday manner really hits home for me, though more in relation to life as a writer. I have much more admiration for those who do great things not for the sake of being great, but only as a byproduct of a commitment that is itself the true, more abstract greatness being admired through the window panes of their achievements. Big things start small, almost always. A great novelist who will one day change the world must begin by deciding each day to come back to their story; must keep going even when they despair and are certain they will fail and should have done something better with their life; pour into their story devotion that makes the effort and struggle secondary, that will take it to the depth it must attain for it to move a reader; to not stop until they get to that point. A “legendary” novelist — and this might apply to legendary people in general — leaves the hopes and dreams of fame far behind in pursuit of a love for story that is much deeper. I certainly can say if I ever am privileged to earn the label “legendary” I will feel it’s undeserved, not because I’m unworthy, but because, like Luke Skywalker, I’ve learned that this thing we do as writers is a way of life that knows only the limits we set on it for ourselves.
Beautifully said, John. Happy New Year!
Happy New Year, Susan!
Well Said Sir
Agreed. Well said. One cannot set out with the intention, “I will be a legendary novelist.” That status is earned by storytelling.
(And maybe by punching people, which may have worked in Norman Mailer’s time but which I wouldn’t recommend now.)
I think the truth may be that old saying: A prophet never gained fame in their own land.
Afterall, a legend is a human being that we know by reputation of their exalted esteem in the eyes of those that know them by their mythical deeds, not by what they had for breakfast. Didn’t Donovan write that song about how astronauts in space still have to pee?
And maybe that is where the intrigue lies, in larger than life characters and the all too human realities underneath those cloaks of myth. It’s what sold ET.
Thanks for inspiring the truth behind the myths. Guru, legend, or insightful human, you shine a light on this journey.
Happy New Year, Don. Blessed be.
Dang! Another great spark. Every hero is bound to have doubters, detractors, and suffer backlash. More prompts lie ahead. Thanks!
Happy New Year, Don. Legendary or not, I’ll add that I look forward to the first Wednesday of each month and your great advice, insight and challenges. We might all have an individual definition of legend for our separate lives. Hopefully each one of us can acknowledge a person in our past that guided and helped us reach certain goals. That person would have “legend” qualities that we will never forget.
Legends teach us, no question. B.B. King played the blues, nothing more, but he did that for decades, growing ever more assured, his playing ever more powerful.
Stick with one thing. Becomes it’s master. That’s one lesson. Jackie Robinson’s was breaker barriers. Ernest Hemingway was, as a writer, wholly himself. Another lesson.
Did you see The Last Jedi? The final shots are a poignant reminder of the power of legends. If you haven’t yet, you’ll see what I mean.
Thank You For This Post Don
I agree that you are a legend, but more of a map key than a barbarian. What you give is guidance, and information needed by writers to finish their journeys.
This post today is going to be helpful in my next draft, since I need to build a character’s reputation into something that could inspire a Star Wars level of fandom.
Happy New Year
Well, I was going for barbarian, so rats. Still, map key isn’t too bad. And isn’t that little box in the corner of maps called a “legend”?
Yes, Map Key and Legend are interchangable terms for it.
Thank you, Don. I am building a new series character right now, so your prompts will be extremely helpful. I am intrigued by the idea of the “ordinary” person becoming mythic but only in the world’s eyes, never her own. And I like what you said about the power in having the protagonist choose this destiny. Happy New Year!
HNY back at ya. Glad the prompts are helpful. Destiny calls. Great characters answer.
Don, when you started discussing your slippery place among legends, I immediately saw you in the guise of the Zorro character from the 60s TV show: mask, pencil-thin mustache, sword, tights. This could be a good look for you.
But, fetching guise aside, it’s the work that matters, and your work has mattered for a lot of people, me included. Thank you. I have a “quiet” legend in the collaborative novel I wrote, Alice Hamilton, the first female faculty member at Harvard, and a champion of public health and social justice. But never one to horn-toot.
As well as flashy legends, there are ones that are modest about their accomplishments, like John Wooden, the great UCLA basketball coach from long back, or Vin Scully, the retired Dodgers broadcaster, men who acquitted themselves with grace and self-effacing humor. And of course, all those “neighborhood” legends, men and women who quietly contribute to the commonweal. Those ones might be trickier to write about, because their angel wings are only seen in silhouette.
Stay legendary, my friend.
No, no, no. My wife and kids have emphatically vetoed any notion of a moustache. Not happening. I can’t even sell them on the idea of a beard–and we live in the heart of hip Brooklyn!
(Oddly, my wife would probably dig a tattoo, but that is another story.)
Thanks, Tom.
Tom, I think you’ve given us a great concept for the cover art of Donald’s next book.
The Breakout Novelist… in Tights!
Keith, that is inspiration itself—and you are obviously the person to illustrate it.
I can see why you might be considered a legend, Don. You’ve had an enormous impact on a multitude of writers, and who knows how far that impact will ripple out in years to come. That you don’t feel like a legend makes sense to me – you live the mundane as well as the transcendent moments of your own life.
It’s always fascinating to see someone who is a legend in their own mind – when I’ve seen that, it’s almost always accompanied by the person referring to him or herself in the third person. Saw a Super Bowl quarterback do that in an interview the night before the game, and sure enough, next day he threw two interceptions and his team lost.
I had an opportunity to not only meet someone who was considered a legend, but also to stay with him, his partner, and his mother for a few days. Not many people are legends to their mothers! One morning he stormed out of the kitchen because he didn’t like the music his partner had on at breakfast. His mother shook her head and said, “I didn’t raise him to behave like that.”
What I appreciate most, Don, about your work is your commitment to helping writers write the best story they can. Legendary or not, that task is heroic, and I guess that makes you a hero, too. Hmmm, a legendary hero…
“Not many people are legends to their mothers!”
Oh, so true! Ask my own mom. Believe me, she’s not impressed. (But she’s still a great mom, which is all that really matters.)
Don, over the years, on several occasions, I’ve referred to you as my Yoda. To me, your post is fitting on several levels. LOL.
Great you be.
Dee Willson
Award winning author of A Keeper’s Truth and GOT (Gift of Travel)
Thank you, may I never grow gratuitous, as Yoda’s appearance itself was in The Last Jedi, IMHO. (Well, he did have a good point about the instructiveness of failure, I’ll say that.)
Thanks, Dee.
You are legendary because you built a reputation for selflessly helping other writers. It’s how I found Writer Unboxed and why I went to PPWC. Your classes completely changed the way I write books. I’m still referring to my notes and your books!
In my new WIP, I have a protagonist who has a secret in her new life. After reading your article, I can see where she could be legendary in an infamous way with less savory people. It would be fun to toy with it being spilled at an inopportune time or to complicate the climax.
Thanks for another enlightening post!
Most welcome.
Don, as always, your questions lead me down new pathways. My protagonist has chosen her destiny, emulating her heroine, but these questions I had not considered: “For whom is your protagonist responsible? Who depends on him or her? Who has unwarranted faith in your protagonist and believes in a reputation that is not yet earned?”
Thank you for always pushing us that little bit further than we’ve yet gone.
Sometimes a push is just asking the right questions. Glad mine are useful to you.
But, but, but… what happened with the talented new writer? Did she choose the eager, new recruit, or did she go with the more experienced agent?
Alas, the young writer chose a different agency. You can’t win ’em all.
Whoa, she walked away from a legend?! That makes a pretty good plot twist in itself.