The last shot of the “Good Morning” number, with Don, Kathy and Cosmo falling over the couch, tookforty takes to film. SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN dir. Gene Kelly + Stanley Donen
Marcus stopped abruptly in the middle of the grass. A woman in a blue dress was already sitting on the Crisis Bench. He didn’t recognize the dress. She looked up from where she was sitting.
“Sorry,” he said, holding up his hands. “I didn’t think anyone would be over here.” He didn’t think he remembered an introduction to anyone in that dress. It was a memorable sort of a dress. “I believe I ran into your mother inside?” he ventured, because he ran into so many mothers.
“She’s not here,” she said, which was not what he wanted to hear and which he absolutely could not handle at the moment.
“Right,” he said, trying to recover, pretending as if he’d just remembered something. “Your father–”
“We haven’t met,” she interrupted. “I’m not anyone.”
“Oh thank god,” he said, abandoning propriety to collapse onto the bench, dropping his head between his knees. “Thank you.”
“Too many people?” she said sympathetically.
“I’m really bad with faces,” he admitted.
“A lot of people are,” she assured him.
He dragged his hands down his face. “I just confused a Duke with a waiter.”
She bit her lip. “As long as you aren’t rude to waiters, you should be fine,” she said.
“I wasn’t rude,” he said. “I’m never rude. It would have been better if I was rude.” He buried his face in his hands. “I tipped him,” he said, anguished, muffled by his palms. Why had he been dressed like a waiter?
She burst out laughing, loud and with her head tipped back, overwhelming the empty garden. He separated his fingers to stare at her.
“Sorry,” she hiccuped, which immediately descended back into snorts. She laughed like she was hunting for truffles.
“Thanks,” he said, though he almost did feel better. “I’m feeling very supported in my time of need.”
“There’s only one thing you can do,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes, trying to dab at them to not destroy her makeup. Reflexively, he offered her a handkerchief, which she accepted. “You have to flee the country. It’s the only way.” She checked the handkerchief for signs of smeared eyeliner. “Leave your family. Change your name. Get a new family. Never tell them your dark secret.”
“I think my old family might notice if I got a new family,” he said, now resting his chin in his hands, elbows balanced on his knees.
“That’s why you have to burn your house down,” she said matter-of-factly, now holding his handkerchief in a neat fold in her lap. “Just burn the whole thing. Everything but your favorite hat. You leave the hat on top of the ashes for your family to find. ‘This must be him’ they’ll say. ‘He would never have left his favorite hat’. It’s the perfect crime. Once it’s done, you become a pig farmer. Anyone comes around asking questions, you feed them to the pigs.”
“You seem like you’ve put a lot of thought into this,” he observed. “How are your pigs?”
She looked him over sidelong. “Hungry,” she said primly.
How can I effectively portray a criminal main character? I do also want people to somewhat feel attached to the main character, but is that possible if they're morally maybe not the greatest?
Guide: Attaching Reader to Morally Gray Protagonist
There are a few vital keys to making sure your reader can feel attached to your morally gray (and even bad/criminal) protagonist.
For the purpose of this particular guide, I’m going to use the character of Klaus Mikaelson from the TV show The Originals as an example. I’ll try not to get too spoilery.
Quick rundown of the character: Klaus was introduced in The Vampire Diaries as one of the original vampires. He’s centuries old, super powerful, and those in the supernatural world typically tremble when they hear his name.
Keys to making sure your reader can feel attached to your morally gray protagonist:
1) Give them an honorable motivation.
Despite all of the terrible things Klaus does, one of his biggest motivators is his family. In fact, he and his siblings make a vow to protect each other “always and forever.” This doesn’t stop Klaus from repeatedly betraying them and sometimes (literally) stabbing them in the back (or front), when it suits his purposes, but at the end of the day he does what’s right for his family.
Maybe your character is a criminal because they were thrown onto the streets at a young age, through no fault of their own, and had to resort to criminal activity in order to survive. Now it’s just the life they’re accustomed to, but maybe they want to get out someday. Or, maybe they resorted to crime in an effort to pay for their ill sister’s expensive medical care. Whatever you choose, adding some honorable meaning to why they do what they do can help your reader overlook it.
2) Give them an honorable story goal.
In the many different story arcs Klaus went through between The Vampire Diaries and The Originals, he had a lot of shitty story goals, but a lot of honorable ones, too. Sometimes his goal was to save a loved one or exact retribution when someone he love was harmed. Occasionally he’d right a few wrongs or fight to do something good. It balanced out all of the really bad things he’d done and continued to do.
Maybe your character is about to pull off a huge heist, inadvertently interrupts a kidnapping attempt by a rival faction, ends up saving the victim and their new goal is to protect the victim while trying to stop the rival’s bigger plan. By turning your character’s main path (begrudgingly) away from crime, you can create a little “redemption teaser” that whets your reader’s appetite while not totally changing who the character is.
3) Give them scruples.
This is a more difficult one to apply to Klaus, as any scruples he might have had would be related to something I don’t want to spoil–just in case anyone out there still plans to watch this show. But normally, it’s a good idea to to create a line your character would never cross. Maybe they won’t harm the innocent, or maybe they’ll hurt people but never kill them. If your character has scruples your reader will know they’re not a complete monster.
4) Show their softer side.
Apart from his love for his family, there were many other glimpses into Klaus’s softer side. He was a talented artist who loved to paint, he fell deeply in love with a few women in his time, he became the adopted father of a young slave boy during the American Civil War era, and in modern times became the doting father to his own child.
Whether you give your character a great sense of humor; give them a child or other loved one they adore, or a dog they’d do anything for; or have them secretly gift half their ill-gotten income to local homeless shelters, showing the things that make your character human and good can go a long way in helping your reader connect with the character, even despite the bad things they do.
5) Give them a false or mini-redemption moment.
Here again, hard to apply this to Klaus mostly because I can’t remember everything that happened in the show, but if you can show that your character is willing to sacrifice themselves in order to save or benefit someone else, or is otherwise willing to take a major hit so someone else doesn’t have to, this can serve as an indicator that they are capable of full on redemption, which is important if you want your reader to be okay with them. A false redemptive moment would be something like your character jumping in front of another to save them from something about to hit, but then the thing doesn’t hit and they’re both okay. Of course, your character being who they are will probably brush it off as no big deal or even come up with some non-heroic reason for why they “really” did it, but the point is they showed that when push comes to shove, they can be heroes. In a mini-redemptive moment, they might actually take the hit but they just don’t actually die as a result. They’ll get major kudos from the readers (and probably from other characters), but it doesn’t really change who they are.
6) Give them full redemption.
If your character is really bad and if they don’t significantly change course by the end of the story, and do a fair amount of making up for all the bad things they did, you need to find some way for them to truly redeem themselves, and sadly, this level of redemption typically involves some sort of major sacrifice.
That doesn’t mean the character has to die, however. It could be that they turn themselves into the authorities in order to save someone who doesn’t deserve to go to prison, it could be that they give up their fortune or their magic, or it could be that removing themselves from a certain situation is the best thing for everyone–despite how difficult it is for your character. Whatever path to full redemption you choose for your character, if your reader wasn’t sure if they liked your character up to that point, they’ll probably like them afterward.
Few stories take place during a short, unbroken chunk of time. Most stories take place in small chunks spread out over days, weeks, months, or years, which means there will be whole chunks of time not covered. So, how do you skip the time between those chunks?
Scenes and Chapters
With the exception of some very short fiction, most stories are broken into scenes, each of which encapsulates a particular moment or event. In longer fiction, like novellas and novels, related scenes can be grouped together into chapters, though sometimes a chapter contains only one scene. Either way, because scenes and chapters focus on particular moments or events, or a related group of moments or events, starting a new scene or chapter is a natural way to represent the passage of time in your story. In fact, unless otherwise stated, readers will naturally assume that time has passed between scenes and chapters–which doesn’t mean you don’t still have to make the transition between them.
The key to skipping time between scenes or chapters is to make the transition by doing two things:
1) Set up the time skip at the end of the scene or chapter by hinting at what is to come. For example:
As I gazed out the window at January’s first falling snow, I couldn’t help but wonder what the new year would bring.
2) Clarify time, place and (if necessary) POV at the beginning of the new scene or chapter, playing off of the set up from the previous scene or chapter.
The first week of January was over in a blink, and then I found myself back at school, dealing with all the problems I’d left behind during Christmas Break.
Notice how the set up at the end of the previous scene/chapter flows seamlessly into the scene transition at the beginning of the new scene/chapter?
Because the passage of time is expected between scenes and chapters, it’s not always necessary to be direct about how much time has passed. Especially if the amount of time passing is unimportant or already implied.
Direct:
Melinda finally dragged herself out of bed, painfully aware that her entire career hinged on her ability to pull this meeting off without a hitch. She hated the uncertainty of what lay ahead, hating even more the only thing she did know for certain: it was going to be one hell of a shitty day.
# # #
Two hours later, Melinda stood in front of the board, coffee in hand, trying to exude confidence she in no way truly felt. The tired, stoic faces of eleven other men and women gazed back at her, plainly ready for whatever it was she was about to unleash upon them. She only wished she felt as ready as they appeared to be.
Less Direct:
Melinda finally dragged herself out of bed, painfully aware that her entire career hinged on her ability to pull this meeting off without a hitch. She hated the uncertainty of what lay ahead, hating even more the only thing she did know for certain: it was going to be one hell of a shitty day.
# # #
All eleven faces of the other board members gazed back at Melinda, stoic and tired as she stood before them, coffee in hand, trying to exude a confidence she in now way truly felt. It was clear they were prepared for whatever she was about to unleash upon them, and she could only wish she was equally prepared.
In the second example, even though you don’t specifically say “two hours later,” it’s clear right away from the context that the time and place have changed. No one is going to read “all eleven faces of the other board members” and assume that they’re waiting for her in her bathroom as she goes in to brush her teeth the next morning. As often as possible, try to reserve the “two hours later” and “when she got back to the office” transitions for when the context would otherwise be unclear, or when those specific details (how much time has passed, a specific location) is immediately important.
And, if no time is passing between two scenes or two chapters, you can make that clear via context. For example, if one scene ends with Melinda falling asleep and then being woken up by a loud knock at her door, the next scene could continue with something like “Heart pounding from the shock, Melinda jumped out of bed to see who was at her door.” Now it’s clear no time passed in the next scene. But, since a new situation is beginning, it still warrants being its own scene.
Expository Time Skip
Sometimes you need to show a quick glimpse of something that happened but which doesn’t really warrant its own scene or chapter. In this case, you may need to illustrate the time skip using exposition within the scene. It may look something like this:
The first week of January was over in a blink, and then I found myself back at school, dealing with all the problems I’d left behind during Christmas Break. Not the least of which was the newly formed rift between me and Kristina, who was glaring at me from across the hallway as I spun the combination on my locker that first day back. I’d done my best to ignore her, shoveling my million textbooks out of my book bag, doing a quick check of my hair–which somehow managed to be both wet and frizzy with static–before grabbing my biology books and hurrying off under Kristina’s cold glare.
Later that day, at lunch, Michelina and I decided to eat lunch outside, even though it was thirty degrees and still snowing. Despite the wintry chill, it was warmer than the cafeteria with Kristina’s angry gaze constantly searching us out.
Terms such as: later that day, two hours later, the next afternoon, the following day, by the time the bell rang, when it was time to close, etc., allow you to show that time has passed without transitioning to a new scene or chapter. This allows you to cover smaller moments/events that don’t warrant their own space.
Whether you use a scene transition between two scenes or two chapters to show the passing of time, or whether you clarify the time skip through exposition, just pay attention to where you leave your readers before the transition/clarification, and where you take them. Make sure it’s clear, flows well, and wouldn’t leave anyone confused. Do that and you should be in good shape. :)
Alfons Mucha (1860-1939), poster artist, illustrator, graphic artist, painter, and Czech art teacher.
Originator of the Art Nouveau style, his debut as an artist will not be easy, however, and it is from his arrival in Paris in 1887, in the effervescence of the 1889 World’s Fair that he will be able to hope for increasing success. In fact, it is at the Dawn of the twentieth century that his talent will be recognized at its fair value, permitting him to be able to lead his own artistic movement, particularly popular, even today.
(Lithographs and tempera details. The pictures show, in order: poster for Lefèvre-Utile, 1896 ; Spring, 1896 ; Salammbô, 1896 ; poster for F. Champenois Imprimeur-Editeur, 1896 ; Dance, 1898 ; poster for Moët et chandon, 1899, photograph by Sailko ; Lorenzaccio, 1896 ; another poster for Moët et chandon, 1899, photograph by Sailko ; Madonna of the Lilies, 1905; and, finally, Winter, 1896)
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