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The joys of a perfectly boring character

The other day I did an article about creating a loveable jerk as your protagonist. Let me be clear: I am not now going to suggest that you also set about creating a protagonist who is an utter bore.

A boring supporting character, on the other hand, can be a delight for readers.

It’s not that boring characters are, in and of themselves, interesting or delightful. That would be something of an oxymoron. What boring characters can do is create interesting and delightful situations for your readers to enjoy.

Why boring is fun

Ok, it’s not fun. In real life, boring people aren’t fun at all. Nor are they fun for our protagonists to deal with. But they can be fun for readers, because bores can be a great source of laughs. In particular, they can serve as hilarious obstacles between your protagonists and their goals.

Humor comes when the boring person—often un-knowingly—skewers the protagonist on the horns of an uncomfortable social dilemma: how can she get the bore out of her way without being rude? Obviously, most protagonists are socially adept enough that they can empathize with other people. This empathy is the basis for a strong form of social inhibition, in which the protagonist doesn’t want to be rude to the bore because she doesn’t want to hurt the bore’s feelings.

Dr. House doesn’t have this problem. But then, he’s a jerk. He doesn’t care whose feelings he hurts. If your protagonist isn’t a jerk, it’s only natural she will try to deal with bores using the same, polite techniques that work for regular people. She’s trying not to bruise anybody’s ego. Except that bores, by their nature, don’t respond to those techniques like normal people do.

It doesn’t take much imagination to see the many ways these mismatched interaction styles can lead to uncomfortable, frustrating, and potentially humorous situations. Is your protagonist rushing to get the kids out the door for school? Have a boring neighbor drop by to borrow a light bulb, but first spend 10 minutes explaining the backstory behind how her own bulb came to be burnt out. You get the idea: making your protagonist deal with a complete bore on top of what’s actually important to her in the scene can be a humorous way to follow that old writer’s adage, “when in doubt, make it worse.”

Boring-101

The central trait of boring people is social cluelessness. Whatever thoughts are bouncing around inside their boring little heads, those thoughts don’t intersect strongly enough with reality to give these people any insight into what other people think about them. The problem is, cluelessness is itself internal to the bore; it’s invisible from the outside. Yet, as a writer you know better than to jump inside the heads of all of our minor characters. And you do, right?

What you need is something external to show the reader. As a writer, put yourself into the bore’s shoes—it’s controlled schizophrenia again—and ask how you’d reveal yourself without knowing it:

  • You would be into something nobody else cares about. Find something truly meaningless in the grander scheme of life, like perhaps the subtle differences between different brands of styling mousse. Then talk about that whenever you can, with great passion and enthusiasm. Talk about it in great detail, too, as though other people actually know what the hell you’re talking about, and as though they share your fascination with the subject.

  • You would interrupt people with random, barely tangential stuff. This is especially effective when the normal person is trying to explain something to you, such as why that clunking sound from your car’s engine compartment might be something you want to have looked at. By all means, interrupt with a five minute digression about seat belt design from a thing you saw on the Discovery Channel one time. Don’t forget to double your bore-o-meter rating by coupling this with the technique of assuming that having had even the slightest exposure to the subject—say, having once overheard some guys in the high school cafeteria talking about what they were doing in auto shop that day—makes you as much of an expert as the normal person who’s trying to help you understand something.

  • You would go in blind. Initiate social interactions with normal people without first checking to see whether such interaction is necessary, welcome, or even marginally appropriate for the normal person’s situation. Don’t sweat it! Just barge on in and start extolling the joys of the new imported French styling mousse you ordered from the internet. Whatever they were talking about can’t possibly be as important. Oh, and don’t forget to fill them in on all the details of the website’s order form and the problems you had even ordering the mousse because you refuse to upgrade to a modern browser. That’s key information!

  • You would be oblivious to anyone but yourself. This doesn’t mean to be a raging egomaniac (although bores sometimes are). It just means being blind to the subtle cues normal people drop in the context of normal social interactions. Be so inwardly focused on what you want in the moment, on what you personally hope to get from the conversation, that you entirely forget to consider that the normal person may, just barely, maybe, quite possibly, have some needs of her own.

The boring view of rudeness

Having decided how to show the bore’s total boring-ness, what’s your protagonist going to do about it? In seeking to avoid being rude, what she’s really doing is seeking to avoid being blunt. A regular person knows to drop subtle hints, because regular people pick up on those and respond appropriately. When you’re overly blunt towards a regular person, this comes across as rudeness because it implies that you don’t think the regular person is smart or socially savvy enough to pick up on those clues. That hurts their feelings, and there you go: social inhibitions kick in.

Here’s the kicker: The boring person doesn’t see it that way. The bore is in fact, not smart or socially savvy enough to pick up on those clues. That’s why they engage in boring behavior in the first place! They literally don’t know any better. Your subtle clues won’t register with them. How do you get the bore out of your way without being rude? Simple: You don’t. Boring people, by their nature, need to be dealt with more bluntly. It’s the only way.

Being blunt without being mean

Watching your protagonist squirm on the hook, struggling to escape without resorting to rude bluntness, can be comedy gold. But at the end of the scene, she’s going to have to get rude. There is no other escape. She will eventually have to force herself to let go of those social inhibitions, and do something that feels completely horrible. Still, your protagonist has options. She can be blunt in a neutral way or in a mean-spirited way.

She might say “I’m bored now. Goodbye.” Or hold up her hand and say “I need to stop you there. I don’t have time for this.” If she’s feeling mean, she might say “Shut up and don’t talk to me anymore. You have nothing interesting to say.” Or, perhaps, she might just walk away, leaving the bore in mid-sentence. To her, that’s such a breach of ordinary social protocol, she can hardly bring herself to do it. But then, she’s a normal person. For your readers, who are mostly going to be normal people too, they’ll get the humor in that moment.

Also remember, much of the fun of a lively novel is watching characters do and say all the things we can’t get away with in real life. So don’t be afraid to let loose! Whatever the protagonist does, she’s not going to get out of the situation without doing something that would seem rude to a normal person. The only differences are in kind and degree of rudeness.

Yet from the boring character’s perspective, the moment may well not feel blunt or rude at all. The bore may just nod and say “oh, ok,” then go off in search of another victim. The bore may even feel a certain affection for what just happened. What the bore just experienced was (at last!) someone speaking their language. It could be, in fact, that the protagonist’s bluntness, effective though it was in the moment, only makes the bore more eager to speak to her again later...

April 21, 2010 22:45 UTC

Tags: character, boring, clueless, interaction, empathy

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9 Comments:

Posted by Cheree on April 22, 2010 00:03 UTC

Great post. I never thought about boring characters having so much to offer a story. I’ll have to keep that in mind.

Posted by mollyc on April 22, 2010 00:23 UTC

Not only do I like boring characters, but I enjoy boring plots, actually. I have read all of Barbara Pym’s novels. There is something reassuring about uneventfullness!

Posted by Mariana N. Blaser on April 22, 2010 01:34 UTC

Fantastic advice, thanks so much for this!

Bookmarked. :)

Posted by Deb Salisbury on April 22, 2010 03:16 UTC

Wonderful post! I’ve worked hard to avoid boring characters, it’s great to have a way to use them. Thanks!

Posted by Lexi Revellian on April 22, 2010 09:57 UTC

I knew a woman who was incapable of believing that others did not share her opinions. So if you didn’t agree with her, it could only be because you hadn’t understood her, and she would explain all over again more carefully. And she carried right on, complete with little laughs at the ridiculousness of people who thought differently, until you walked away or put the phone down.

I don’t know that this was boring, exactly - I wanted to brain her with a brick.

Posted by Jason Black on April 22, 2010 16:28 UTC

I knew a woman who was incapable of believing that others did not share her opinions.

Interesting. This touches on something I debated adding to this article, except the article was already long enough. It’s called “theory of mind,” and it’s from cognitive science.

Basically, the idea behind “theory of mind” is that being able to model what other people are thinking/feeling/believing is a super-important aspect of interacting with others. It gets very meta, and as such is kind of hard to describe, but in short if you’re able to keep your own knowledge about what you think/feel/believe separate from your knowledge about what other people think/feel/believe, and you’re able to make correct inferences about other people’s likely behaviors and emotions based on that, then you have achieved “theory of mind.”

Notably, small children don’t have this. It varies widely from kid to kid, of course, but somewhere around age 3 kids begin to figure out that not everybody feels the same as they do about everything, and that not everybody has the same information as they do about everything.

This is why, to a very small child, hide-and-seek is a completely pointless game. As far as they’re concerned, the whole concept of “hiding” is moot; with no theory of mind to work from, they believe that of course you know where they are, because they themselves know where they are. They can’t keep your lack of information about where they’re hiding separate from their own knowledge of where they’re hiding.

Thinking about the kinds of boring behaviors I described in this article with all that in mind, it’s not difficult to see them as being the result of people with a weakly developed sense of “theory of mind.” They just don’t, as your brick-woman, have a fully-developed ability to understand what’s going on in other people’s heads.

Posted by dirtywhitecandy on April 23, 2010 19:35 UTC

Fun and useful post! I love to analyse what bores me about a person, or makes them dreary company. And as you say, the comedy potential is delicious. Evelyn Waugh springs to mind as somebody who used boredom to great comic effect.

Posted by Gwen Hernandez on April 23, 2010 22:08 UTC

Great ideas here. The “theory of mind” sounds a lot like Goleman’s “Emotional Intelligence". Good stuff. Thanks!

Posted by e.lee on April 26, 2010 19:21 UTC

boring characters are great for contrast, in a crime story good for the bodycount

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