The unavoidable character

Ask yourself this question about your current work-in-progress: What character is in every scene and on every page? Don’t be so quick to say “none.” I don’t care what kind of book you’re writing. Even an omniscient POV book with tons of head-hopping has a character who is in every scene and on every page.
It’s you.
The writer is inescapably present in every novel. Readers will suspend disbelief about your book, but they never truly forget that they’re reading a story you wrote. Your name is even on the front of it!
This is obviously true for memoirs and novels where a writer intentionally inserts himself or herself into the story. I’m not talking about those. What I’m talking about are the vast majority of novels in which the writer does not intend to be in the story.
You are anyway.
The question then becomes, does your writing minimize your own presence on the page? Generally speaking, the better a writer is the more invisible he or she remains to the reader. When the reader becomes aware of you, you’ve pulled them out of the story. That’s never a good thing.
In working with my clients’ novels, I’ve put together a list of common and not-so-common ways that writers reveal themselves to readers. Strive to avoid these:
Author intrusion
So-called “author intrusion” is when a writer inserts something into the book which doesn’t feel like it fits. This can happen in narrative, or through dialogue. But usually it comes in the form of an opinion on an emotionally or politically charged subject that isn’t directly attributable to any character in the scene, and is often written in a style that seems directed toward the reader. For example:
The phone dropped from Susan’s hand, clattering on the kitchen floor. She gripped the countertop for support. John was dead, found hanging from a light fixture in his apartment. Suicide is a mortal sin. It’s wrong to kill yourself, and no one should ever do that. Susan squeezed her eyes shut, but tears leaked out anyway.
Here, the writer reveals his own opinions about suicide, reveals his religious beliefs, and tosses in a little morality lecture as a bonus. The reader may well agree with the sentiment, but it has no place in the story unless that thought belongs to one of the book’s actual characters. If it’s just your opinion, leave it out.
When readers run into something like this, it’s like you’re waving yourself in their face. “Yoo hoo, writer speaking! Here I am!” Furthermore, it’s impossible for the reader not to be aware of you trying to tell them what to think. Nobody likes that. Even if they agree with you it leaves them feeling negatively towards you.
Credibility issues
It is very easy to make mistakes in one’s story that undermine your own credibility as a writer, that sabotage the reader’s belief in you as a person who has any business writing a novel. If readers stop believing in you, they’ll stop caring about the story and probably stop reading. At the very least you make it much more difficult for them to continue suspending their disbelief. There are three main credibility issues I see in my clients’ work:
Plot holes. If the cops take a character’s gun away in chapter three, but then the character fires the gun in chapter 4 without first having gotten it back, that’s a plot hole. It’s a logical inconsistency within the structure of your story, and what it tells readers is that you don’t know your own story well enough to tell it right. That being the case, what confidence can a reader have that the rest of the story is going to be worth reading?
Factual errors. Similar to plot holes, when your characters make mistakes about verifiable facts it tells the reader that you are either lazy or ill-informed yourself. Again, it conveys the message that you haven’t any business writing a novel, or that you haven’t put as much work into the novel as you should have.
One or two of these, when they’re small and on facts that don’t matter much to the plot, can be tolerated. Nobody’s really going to care all that much if you, say, refer to the “nine graceful arcs atop the Chrysler Building,” when in fact there are only eight. As long as you’re not screwing up minor details all over the place, it’s tolerable.
What isn’t tolerable is to make mistakes about facts that matter to the plot, or which are well known and iconic in the culture at large. For example, misplacing the Hoover Dam from the Colorado River to the Mississippi, or accidentally referring to 1973 as “the year Kennedy was assassinated.”
Bad or missing emotional responses. In my opinion, these are the worst. These are when your characters fail to react in emotionally appropriate ways to the events they face, or when emotional responses that are in the book haven’t been well supported by the preceding narrative.
For example, if your main character receives a call in the middle of his high-stakes business negotiation informing him that his mother has died unexpectedly, yet he carries on with the negotiation as though nothing happened, readers aren’t going to believe that for a second. Similarly, romance sub-plots where a character seems to be madly attracted to another for no discernable reason just aren’t credible. That latter one is one I see way too much of, and for some reason it seems to be an especially common problem for writers of thrillers.
These mistakes undermines your credibility as a writer because they make readers believe that you just don’t understand how real people think, feel, and react. If that’s the case, you really don’t have any business writing a novel that has any people in it. If that’s the case, consider writing Sci-Fi about aliens with wholly different mentalities, for whom dispassion towards their mothers and unmotivated romance are the norm. Or about robots. Robots are good.
If you don’t understand people, you shouldn’t write about them. That’s why this is the worst thing you can do for your own credibility.
Plot holes and factual errors are relatively easy to fix. Any decent editor can help you catch those, as can your writing group or people on internet critique websites. But if your characters don’t act like real people, there’s not much that can be done except to write the whole thing over.
Portraying yourself as an unsavory person
To enjoy your book, readers have to like you. At the very least, they have to be indifferent to you. Their opinion of you, if any, will prejudice them towards or against your book. Thus, your book should avoid making readers feel you are a loathsome human being, or they’re going to have a hard time liking it. How do writers betray themselves like that? Here are two examples.
One client’s characterization of the female characters in his book consisted of, without exception, descriptions their physical assets. Especially their breasts. I could really tell he was a breast man. There wasn’t much else in terms of characterization for these women. As the book progressed, this pattern left me with the feeling that the client wasn’t merely a fan of the female bosom, but was in fact a male chauvinist. The men in his book had goals, aspirations, and even feelings. But the women were little more than glorified furniture. It didn’t leave me feeling good about the client as a person.
Another client had a main character who—and to avoid the threat of being sued for libel I’ll be particularly vague here—did some very, very bad things. However, the book was written with enough author intrusion that I couldn’t escape the suspicion that my client was writing from experience. A little bit of internet research only deepened that suspicion. I quit the project, tore up the client’s check, and I hope never to hear from that client again.
Think about that: I was being paid to read the book, and I couldn’t do it because of my opinion of the writer. The client showed enough of him/herself on the page that every fiber of my being was screaming “get away from this client!” So I did. I wanted nothing to do with any of it.
It’s one thing to “write what you know,” as the saying goes. But when what you know would make a person think you belong behind bars, consider writing about something else. I’m just saying.
You are in your book
Like it or not, you are a character in your book if for no other reason than readers never fully forget they’re reading a story that was written by a person. The best you can do is to keep yourself as invisible as possible by avoiding the mistakes I’ve described here.
January 15, 2010 20:32 UTC
10 Comments:
Posted by William on January 16, 2010 02:33 UTC
That’s very helpful. It’s interesting that you mention the “breast man” thing. I’ve got a story I’m working on, written from the first person. I was thinking of having the character who is “narrating” describe women’s physiques in detail, and then later have another major character chide him for undressing every woman he meets with his eyes. I got uncomfortable with it and am now thinking of cutting that bit. I don’t want the audience thinking that’s me ogling those women. Does filtering the “author” character through a fictional first person lesson the impact of something like that? Would a reader cut me slack if the women that are described that way behave like real people?
Posted by Jason Black on January 16, 2010 03:22 UTC
From what you’ve described, I don’t think that sounds like a problem.
For my two-cents worth, I think that first person POV can get away with more in terms of portraying attitudes that are far outside of what is socially accepted. Readers know it’s fiction, they know you made it up, and since first person writing conveys much more through the eyes of the character, readers are less likely to ascribe those attitudes to you.
I’m not saying that it isn’t possible to commit any of the sins I’ve described here in first person, just that it’s marginally harder to do it.
I think you should go ahead and write it the way you were, even if it’s making you uncomfortable. That might, in fact, be a good thing. It means that you’re touching some sort of truth in your writing. If you’re worried what people think, ask them. Ask the members of your writing group, show the book to people who know you, et cetera, and ask them afterwards (don’t prejudice their opinions by telling them what you’re worried about ahead of time) whether they thought the writing was reflecting on your or on the character.
Worst comes to worst, you can hire me to see what I think of it. :)
Posted by Camille on January 16, 2010 17:22 UTC
I read a series of mysteries which were warming up to be pretty good, but the author had a terrible habit of introducing the hero by describing the pants he was wearing. After a while I began to imagine him as a disembodied pair of trousers running around the place.
(This did not make me dislike the author as a person, but it did make me think about the author’s skills rather than the story.)
Posted by Jason Black on January 16, 2010 17:36 UTC
Well, as you know, the soul of any character is in his pants. Or is it” the seat of any character is in his pants?” I can never remember.
Anyway, thanks for sharing. That’s the most hilarious mechanism for pulling the reader out of the story I’ve heard in a long time. I’ll have to remember that one... Do you happen to recall what the series in question was?
Posted by Camille on January 16, 2010 22:12 UTC
It was one of those “cozy” series that got killed when one of the big publishers had realized they had over bought in the eighties. I think the first one had a title like “Remember the Crows” but Google doesn’t get me anywhere with that. It was about a female big city cop who winds up the chief of police of a tiny farm town in Iowa or Kansas, after her husband dies. Mr. Pants was the romantic lead, another cop with whom she clashed. Not brilliant stuff, but a couple of decades earlier that series would have had a chance to ripen up.
Posted by Camille on January 17, 2010 05:13 UTC
And I found it! “Consider the Crows” by Charlene Weir, and it appears she finally did get a few more books published in the series more recently. In spite of the pants thing, I am pleased and happy to find more books.
Posted by Nitpicker on January 25, 2010 21:11 UTC
You say, “Nobody’s really going to care all that much if you, say, refer to the ‘nine graceful arcs atop the Chrystler Building,’ when in fact there are only eight.”
True, perhaps, but some of us DO care that you misspelled “Chrysler.” That kind of carelessness can jolt the reader out of the story.
Posted by Jason Black on January 25, 2010 22:23 UTC
Oopsie! Just goes to show, we all need an editor now and then. Fixed!
Posted by Charlotte Rains Dixon on January 26, 2010 15:20 UTC
Every single one of my characters has a little bit of me in them—actually, some have a lot of me in them. But, a character that starts as being heavily based on me gradually morphs into her own unique self. That being said, I still need to keep a keen eye out for authorial intrusion.


Posted by Elizabeth Spann Craig on January 16, 2010 00:05 UTC
Good one. I’m tweeting...
Elizabeth <a href="http://mysterywritingismurder.blogspot.com/"> Mystery Writing is Murder</a> <a href="http://www.mysteryloverskitchen.com/"> Mystery Lovers’ Kitchen</a>