Legacies - What characters want to leave behind shapes their stories

I just reconnected with a set of writer friends after many years. A few of that group has passed on. I poked around and found the obituary for one to be singularly unsatisfactory. Luckily, I kept at it and found his wife’s obituary. It was much more revealing, noting their long, loving marriage, his service in Germany, and the 100,000 miles the two put on motorcycles, touring Europe and the US. It brought him back to me for a moment, not the leas of which because I believe he was he author and every word reflected what made life matter to him.

For fiction writers, obituaries have many uses, including providing touchpoints for character perspectives (as detailed in an earlier post of mine). But one thing I haven’t focused on is what characters want to leave behind. That seems like an essential bit to know, and I don’t recall seeing “Hoped for Legacy” in any forms used to profile characters.

I suspect most people want to provide, in one way or another for family. In America, about 40% of adults have wills. My guess is that those who care for disabled family plan extensively. The one thing they want is to make sure they aren’t cut adrift, which, sadly, can happen in my country where safety nets are pretty frayed. Providing a future for small children is probably a to concern, too.

All that shows the common concerns. But, of course, there are other goals. Leaving a gold watch to one and an ugly lamp to another. Or cutting someone out entirely. The material distribution can be the message.

There are those who leave behind power as well as goods. It was a big deal for Henry VIII, worthy of murder, but business has this, too. Sons take over the family business and may even (as with Murdoch’s News Corp) be groomed to take over a publicly traded company. Sometimes, it’s more subtle. Entertainers build good will or a brand that opens doors and smooths the way for their children. Walter Huston begat John who begat Angelica — all Oscar winners.

So family can be a big deal. For some, a lot of progeny is legacy enough. Is this important for your characters? And why?

Sometimes the legacy that’s sought is to be understood. I have autobiographies of both my father and my grandfather on my shelf. My father’s is full of facts and genealogy. For him, data led to understanding. My grandfather’s has moments that mattered to him. The text is integrity, but often the subtext is coming to see things in new ways.

But biographies can be weapons and explanations. To me, Marlon Brando’s (Songs My Mother Taught Me) was aimed at building his image, defending poor choices, and getting even with enemies. He seemed to want to find meaning, but was always more interested in other things. But I don’t think that was how he wanted it to come across.

The extreme of the tight focus on self excuse and getting even might be the suicide note. (Not ALL suicide notes.) Haunting and guilting those left behind may become the point. If you have characters who are broken or angry, such a note might be the best way to understand what they want to leave behind. Just don’t write it in a way that makes people worry about you, the author.

Sometimes the final moment becomes the legacy. The far better thing done by the humblest of us, such as perishing to save another, may be a way to snag redemption. Or to inspire. Would sacrifice define the legacy of one of your characters? How much would they give up and, if they are willing to die for something or someone, why?

One of my favorite legacies people aspire to is beauty. I suspect this was important to Leonardo da Vinci, since he kept the Mona Lisa at his side. Harper Lee gave us To Kill a Mockingbird, and that was enough. I think the collaborative, anonymous, glorious work of Chartres speaks of what humanity can be.

The artist does not always see clearly. Kafka wanted most of his brilliant work destroyed. As I recall, Ray Bradbury hoped he’d have a handful of poems that would outlive him, but didn’t equally value his prose. Conan Doyle expected Holmes would fade away and posterity would come to appreciate his serious work.

Imagine creating such characters, who want to be remembered or even leave the world better off, but uses the wrong measure of greatness. Twisted dreams make good stories, and they may be revealed through the lens of legacy.

Making lives better for future generations was probably the intent of Madison as he and his colleagues labored on the U.S. Constitution. I suspect Marx had similar notions for communism. Loyola formed the Jesuits who became the marines of the Catholic Church (with one of their number in charge now), intentionally stepping into a raging battle of ideas. Bill Gates said, “A computer on every desk, and in every home, running Microsoft software.”

Their legacies are big and tested by history, but I wonder if they are minor compared to Gutenberg and his movable type. (Was Gutenberg thinking about posterity? Or making a living?) Overt intent to change the world is common in fiction, the DNA of some stories, but could unintended legacies, like butterfly effects, shape your tales in surprising and wonderful ways?

In general, asking characters what they want as their legacy provides a treasure trove of information about them. Figuring out WHY this matters fits this information into your story.