The Problem Behind the Problem
By Therese Walsh | September 12, 2022 |
I’m a dedicated fan of Carolyn Hax’s Washington Post advice column. Carolyn has a way of tunneling right into an issue and, in my opinion, identifying the rotting core of whatever someone’s described issue might be. Recently, she advised someone concerned about the behavior of a friend to focus less on the unwelcome surface behavior and instead dig for whatever was causing that behavior–find that deeper root, “the problem behind the problem.”
I often nod along while reading Carolyn Hax, often thinking about the craft of fiction, and specifically the craft of creating characters who come across as real people. This particular column, this advice, made me think about external and internal motivations for our characters.
The concept of external and internal goals and the motivations for those goals confused me in the early months of writing my first novel.
“What does your main character want?”
Okay, sure, I had this answer.
“What does she really want?” the teacher would probe, as if opening a door to another world that I should plainly see.
I saw nothing. I may have heard crickets.
There were other prompts to attempt to help me find this hidden element.
“Why does she want that external goal? Keep asking ‘why’ until you no longer have an answer, and that’s the internal motivation.”
This didn’t work for me, and I don’t think I would have struggled any less if someone had asked me to “find the problem behind the problem.”
Because the problem behind my problem was that I hadn’t yet found that deeper root. I found it, eventually, while pantsing my way through what became my debut novel. (Maybe ‘pantsing’ should be relabeled ‘digging.’)
A Deeper Truth
Once upon a time, a friend anguished over whether or not to have a procedure that could help them long-term, but would come with a great many short-term inconveniences. I listened as they spoke of these many inconveniences, including the need to be on crutches for a month or more. I suggested they talk with their doctor, going over each of the worries, and then they stopped and said, “If I’m being completely honest…”
They were worried about their ability to hold themselves upright on crutches without risk of further injury because of other physical challenges.
The problem behind the problem. The reason behind the reason. The deeper dig. The greater truth.
You may have to be clever with people and characters both, and hear ‘shallow excuses’ for the crutches they may be. You have to realize those crutches are protecting a broken part, a deeper wound. And people, and characters, generally don’t want to show those off. They don’t want to be perceived as weak. They don’t want to acknowledge vulnerability — sometimes profound vulnerability.
Not until they trust you.
Building Trust
As with real people, the way you’ll get to know the character you’ve built–the way to excavate those bones–is to spend lots of time with them. Nurture that safe space between you, and make space for those important truths to come out.
Perhaps it’s easier with real people who are willing to talk, to hear what they don’t want to say, or even to wait it out, until they reveal their deeper truths. Sometimes it’s easy with characters, too, when their issues rise up quickly after a short series of prompts. But it isn’t always.
Here are some exercises you might try if you’re having a difficult time finding the problem behind the problem with your characters:
- Invite them to talk. Try a free write; just let your character ramble all over the page. Try this with a sheet of blank paper and a pen or pencil that feels like one they’d choose. What topics do they circle back to? What topics do they push away from? How might those shifts be a cover or crutch for a deeper truth they’re trying to protect? And/or try a Q&A with them and see what they’re willing to talk about and where you feel resistance. Where do they shut down when you suggest ideas for resolution?
- Play a game of “what ifs.” Write one or more scenes in which you thrust your character out of their comfort zone and into complete chaos. This is not a part of your story; it’s meant to help illuminate something new about your character away from what you’ve already imagined for them–perhaps something revelatory. What if their home burns to the ground? What do they look for in the rubble? Whom do they miss? Or do they feel free? What do they seek now that there is no longer anywhere to call home, no longer anyone to go home to? How does that chaos become an opportunity for good change, even if that change takes years to find?
- Go deeper. It’s also possible you haven’t developed the backstory deeply enough — thought far back enough — to access a ‘greatest pain.’ This was my original issue, and is why I’ve long said that backstory is everything. For me, it is! An internal goal needs an internal motivation needs something to precipitate that / an understood history. An exercise: Looking at one clear external goal, do a dig into each known aspect — the goal, the people involved with the goal. Home in on what the goal means to the people involved, what the goal means to the protagonist. Ask until you turn over new territory, then home in again on those areas, and keep digging. If you meet with internal resistance, even your own personal memories of something, don’t shy away; keep digging. You’re getting close. Is this character struggling to make a decision? Are they confused by their own behavior over anything? Are they ashamed of something? What feeling can’t they overcome? What illusion are they attempting to uphold? How are they standing in the way of their own happiness?
- Go inward. Sometimes the problem isn’t the character but rather the writer. Is there something your character needs to do, but it’s your issue/your fear/your greatest pain that may stand in the way? Be open to the idea. Even if it’s a false notion, the exercise of feeling around for your own vulnerabilities may make space for your character to find their brave. A level deeper, for people and characters alike: What is the origin story of that wound? What was lost the moment it was created? Was it created while trying to protect something/someone else? What would be needed for that wound to heal? That lack of a “click,” of a sense of calm resolution, means you’re not there yet.
Finding the problem behind the problem may not be easy, which is why therapists, and sage columnists like Carolyn Hax, make the big bucks. But it’s where that deepest root lives, and it’s well worth the dig if you’re willing and able to do the work.
Have you ever created a character who gave you trouble revealing their internal goals / conflicts, and their greatest pain? How did you get to the problem behind the problem?
Still struggling and want to do a little ‘book therapy’ in comments? The floor is yours.
[coffee]
Wonderful article, Teri. I, too, am a Carolyn Hax devotee, and love how she gets to the problem behind the problem so easily and succinctly, usually in the span of 500 words or fewer. (I was also a huge Dear Abby fan, and wrote many a letter as a pre-teen and teen, never to be acknowledged in print.)
All of your suggestions are useful for not only character development and growth, but also for my own struggles and bumps in the road. I see where I’ve remained too superficial, and need to dig even deeper to find the problem behind the problem in order to get out and gain forward momentum again. Only a little farther and I should be coming out the other side of that hole. Any idea what autumn is like in China?
Thanks for your inspiring essay.
I’m so glad you found it helpful, Mike! Isn’t Carolyn the best? I’ve never written in — maybe I’m nervous over the key-lashing (what’s the writerly equivalent of a tongue lashing?) I might receive. Write on, friend, and good luck to you as you search for the problem behind the problem, and the reason behind the reason.
Just like a real person, a character needs a safe place to tell their secrets and pain. It must be to someone they trust completely. It helps if that other person has revealed a vulnerability and is seeking advice, or is affected by that same secret and needs answers to heal.
I have put elusive characters into what-if situations of a safe place like this and I come away more understanding of both characters.
Ada, wonderful to hear that you’ve tried the ‘what if’ exercise already and found that it works for you. Chaos is revealing, in my experience — with real people, and with characters. Thanks for commenting!
Hey T—Your wonderful piece addresses when characters (or their writers) don’t know the problem behind the problem. I have two of them (clueless characters), and I stumbled into something fun: clueless interpersonal dynamics. That’s when each of them is sure they know the problem behind the problem of the other (as one would), while remaining clueless (sometimes willfully so) about their own deeper motivations for their external sh… er, I mean, their often rash or insensitive behavior.
Really got my writerly brain cranking this morning. Thanks!
Hi V, I am so glad that the post got your wheels turning. Pretty funny about those characters of yours; that kind of irony is fun on the page.
This seems like a good place to mention something re: Will Smith and the “slap heard around the world.“ In a follow-up statement, Will mentioned that disappointing people was his greatest wound/something of a trigger. I thought it ironic that in trying to prevent disappointing his wife, I assume, he went on to disappoint everyone –– especially, belatedly, himself —- and at the highest point in his career. I think it would be interesting to dissect at a deeper level down the road – – how the dark moment might involve an ironic twist relating to the greatest pain.
Good luck with those characters!
Writing a novel is so powerful in many ways, because you CAN create the problems, questions and events in a character’s life that has formed them AND then changes them. I have found my hands hesitating over the keyboard when I make life for my MC even more difficult than it was before. Also, in my WIP, I have a child character who in one scene suffers a forced haircut to make her look like a boy. During a workshop, I asked Donald Maass to help me–had I gone too far. He said no. Our characters become so much a part of us, that we often struggle to truly write their story. My child survives, but it will take love and tenderness to help heal her physical and mental scars.
Ooh, intriguing about the unusual childhood experience. It IS difficult to create trauma/wounds/scars for our characters, but when you’ve played it out as you have and can access the emotional response of your character because of that, I believe it’s more organic to write how that character digests / lives with / and hobbles onward because of that experience. I’m glad you left that in, too, fwiw.
I’ve been trying to write a sequel to a novel I published in 2007. It was only this year that I realized I didn’t know my main characters very well, and I certainly didn’t love them. All I knew about them was from my first book. I decided to write their backstory–how they met, how they fell in love, and how they broke up. I’m currently at about 175,000 words and finally feel like I know them. Once I’ve finished, I know it will be a bit easier to write the sequel.
That’s incredible, Michelle! Sounds like you’ll have plenty of material. I’ll bet they feel very live to you at this point. Write on!
Thank you. Yes, they’re so alive that I really hate what I have to do them to set up the sequel. Repairing their relationship will be a huge motivator for finishing when I get to writing it.
Hi Therese. Your excellent post gives voice to the triumph of depth psychology as the way to truth. Virtually every “influencer” in the biz admonishes writers to dig deeper, to probe the depths below surface consciousness, in order to pry loose the kernels of wisdom behind our characters’ thoughts and actions. Like you, I admire Carolyn Cox for her skills in this regard. But as Tom Wolfe asserted and demonstrated, that’s not the only way to expose the truth. He argued that, as with Dickens and Zola, the carefully observed details of people’s actions and choices uncover a great deal (Cox does this a lot). The same holds true for the exaggerated methods of satire. Whether Wolfe would agree I don’t know, but my guess is that the emphasis given to either approach stems from a writer’s own sense of what she/he does best. Wolfe dreamed up what he called the writer’s Hippocratic oath. For doctors, the oath begins “Do no harm.” For writers–says Wolfe–the oath begins “Always entertain.” About that tenet of faith I think we can all agree.
What a great comment, Barry, thank you. I love a “tell” — whether it’s physical or psychological. I once had a debate with my son (imagine that! He was a teenager then), and while debating whatever it was, he stepped behind a gate and then closed it to continue the conversation — as if a gate could shield him from his mother’s penetrating logic, ha!
What if the actions and choices reveal truth that’s already at the surface, and the dig reveals entirely new territory / truths that wouldn’t be accessible without that effort / shift of the land?
Great post. I love the answer that the issue is in the writer. There are issues, wants, motivations, etc. that I have bumped up against, but simply refused to write about. I’m sure doing so would deepen my ability to produce good stories. I’m not ready, but I think you’ve motivated me to make a list of those, whatever they are, as they come up. What do I not want to write about? That ought to get me a little closer to ready. …To important growth. Thank you.
Bob, I am absolutely thrilled that this post has encouraged you to excavate self / boundaries / story. I wish you well with your dig!
Therese, I have a feeling that the trouble I have with understanding my villain probably lies with me. Digging deeper is hard work when you don’t want to necessarily go there. Thank you for pointing me in the direction I should go.
HI Vijaya, oh, I hear you about that. I like a shades-of-gray villain, especially if there’s something bright and beautiful about them. Taking it a step further, what if that bright and beautiful part is the catalyst for their damage? Good luck!
Hey Therese, wait a minute—are you channeling the evil Don Maass and asking us penetrating questions rather than giving us answers? How can that be fair? What is it deep in your character that wants to stir such emotions? And why?
[Psst! Therese and Don, I will never be able to ask the provocative questions that give writers pause, and then send them to the keyboard, ideas and keys clacking. But I have a giant supply of question marks, if you ever need any.]
Ha! Now that you mention it, maybe I was channeling my Inner Don. (Do we all have an Inner Don? Why do you think his voice haunts our brains? What does it mean if it doesn’t?)
Thanks T! A very useful set of warm up exercises to equip the writing-the-story journey. I’m printing this out.
Thank you, Bee! I’m glad you found this useful.
Ah, yes, this is one of the editorial suggestions I make to writers on a regular basis. Digging deeper is the stuff of gold mines. Great article, T!
Hugs
Dee
Thank you, Denise! Agree with you on the gold. :-)
What a gem of a post, Therese. It’s already started me down the path of asking the necessary questions for this next project. I’m excited to dig, and bookmarking your advice for reference.
That’s great to hear, Deborah — especially your excitement for the dig. Wishing you plenty of literary gatorade. You’ve got this!
Therese great post! I also struggled with the problem behind the problem for SO LONG.
Now I LOVE writing backstory. I find it gives my characters so much forward momentum.
Also HELLOOOO! I came to UnConference in 2014. Looking forward to reconnecting with everyone.
On Conference looks AWESOME. what great workshops.
Neroli, thanks for your comment! I’m very glad that you’ve discovered the secret sauce that is writing out backstory. (Also very glad that you’ll be a part of this year’s OnConference! See you soon!)
Great column, Therese! I read Carolyn Hax’s column too, and for the same reason. I love her ability to see beyond the surface concern and offer one or more suggestions for what is really going on with either the letter writer or the person they are in conflict with. Of course, she also offers advice for how to deal with the situsation, but it is the analysis that interests me most.
Hi Barbara, great to hear from you! Carolyn’s analysis is a masterclass in human behavior, isn’t it? I’m glad to see so many in the WU community are already reading her regularly with the same lens.
I love the hands-in-the-dirt feel of this. You’re giving us something to actually DO, and I think tangible activity pretty much always feels good to people who are engaged in long drawn-out work (such as writing a book!). Thank you.
Just yesterday, I engaged in this kind of “digging.” I sat down with my writing journal and asked myself about the 3 main characters in a new project I’m excited about. What do they want and (more importantly) WHY? By brainstorming — scribbling ideas, drawing arrows, crossing things out, marking other things with asterisks so that I knew to jump over to a different spot in my notes, etc — I was able to “map” out so much story that I didn’t even realize was already semi-formed in my mind. It’s one of the more exciting parts of the process, for me.
Kristan, that’s fantastic! I honestly think the act of putting pen to paper can be liberating in and of itself; there’s something about the mess of it — drawing those arrows, scribbling, asterisking, circling, starring, underlining, capitalizing, making important revelations take up more room on the page — that feels like a red carpet into the creative world. Sounds like you are well on your way to understanding those people and that story that’s been bubbling away under the surface. Write on!
Love this perspective on digging down to what motivates characters at the core, Therese. I especially love the insight that often it’s our own blind spots and fears that stand in the way. But this is the gold!