Humiliating Villains (and Heroes)

One of the delicious aspects of entertaining fiction is what's sometimes called "creative humiliation of the villain." Seeing a bad guy kept his comeuppance in a way that wounds his ego never gets old. This often occurs after great damage to others, so it's an evening of the scales. But it also reflects repugnance for antagonists who believe they are smarter or better than everyone else and even taunt heroes and victims. I don't think I ever missed an episode of Colombo because each one enacted these little morality plays.

Against villains, humiliation provides readers or viewers a pay off. But humiliation can also be useful to good storytelling if it's used against heroes. Often, the reason why we empathize with the character is because he or she has been wronged. As Damon Knight told me once, "we've all been wronged, so we're naturally on their side." In addition, humiliation can contribute to real change. The more a character faces obstacles, including reputational damage (which is largely what humiliation is), the more likely they are to deal with a flaw.

Note: Depending on the villain, it might also be used to create a level of empathy or understanding. Think of the backstory of Syndrome’s rejection in The Incredibles.

Suffering humiliation for the sake of doing the right thing makes a character more noble in our eyes. In Jerry Maguire, Jerry makes himself vulnerable and reveals his true love in the presence of a women's group, where none of the members are on his side… to say the least.

How do you humiliate a character?

• Show the character has crossed the line or violated the taboo.
• Present a behavior out of context were put it in its worst light.
• Make the "offense" against a cherished part of the character's self image or public persona.
• Make the behavior appeared to be cruel or worthy of disdain.
• Put the offensive behavior on exhibit, often including the character falling for a trap or being hoisted by his own petard.
• Focus on a behavior the character is ashamed of.
  

How do you make the humiliation more intense?

• Be sure the humiliation sticks. Make it difficult for the behavior to be disavowed, apologized for, or minimized.
• Make a shift in power part of the moment of humiliation.
• Make the consequence proportional for the villain and out of proportion for the hero.
• Make the humiliation happen in front of enemies or people the character cares about.
• Increase the consequences, making them more dire or including multiple impacts (such as hurting family as well as self).
  

How do you create humiliation in fiction?

I found that, often, my characters tell me what would humiliate them. Or, I can ask what makes them proud, and then reverse it. Similarly, I can examine some of the factors above (the audience for the humiliation, the image tarnished) and use these to amplify the emotional and practical consequences of a humiliation.

I think it's easier to imagine how to humiliate a villain that is to come up with powerful ways to humiliate your hero. Giving heroes flaws, making them suffer, and creating obstacles for them is very difficult for a lot of writers. The easiest trick is to think in terms of humiliating the villain, then do something similar to the hero. It doesn't always work. In advising students and clients, I may resort to using a step-by-step process that gradually makes even horrendous moments for heroes tolerable. I'll suggest one for humiliation here:

Embarrassment is closely related to humiliation, so remember in times when you or someone you cared about suffered embarrassments can help re-create the feeling and even suggest what the humiliation might be.

Once you understand the what and the how of humiliation, you can get creative with it. In Mad Men, Don Draper has (unjustly) been discovered to be an imposter by Pete Campbell. The information is true. He does not have the credentials, identity, war record, or name he has claimed. It’s so humiliating, Draper’s initial reaction is to run away (sacrificing his career and family). He is further humiliated because his sweetheart of the moment won’t go with him. And she calls him a coward. (In fact, he loses her completely.) It is a low moment for him. So he challenges Campbell to do his worst. The two go into his boss’s office. Campbell puts his discovery in a horrible light. Draper not only faces the situation, he takes ownership of it. He suffers the blow with dignity, and is Campbell whose character flaw is revealed, with him ending up being humiliated. It’s brilliant storytelling.

One area I haven’t touched on is comedy. While humiliation works for me in drama, I’m not a big fan of laughing at people being humiliated. Even the slights of name-calling and practical jokes feel like cheap humor to me. But there’s no doubt that a lot of humor, from late night hosts to sitcoms (like Fawlty Towers) to movies (like Something About Mary) lean heavily into humiliation. Much of what I’ve mentioned here can work for comedy though it might include the same level of pain (except in dark comedy) or story importance.

Curiosity for Writers

“Curiosity has its own reason for existing.” 

                                                    -- Einstein

For me, part of the fun of writing is making connections between ideas and finding something that's amusing and/or insightful. I have an outsized curiosity and, as a child, tormented people with my questions. I can get obsessed with subjects, researching them and probing for the limits of understanding.

While this is not an essential trait for a writer (observation, grace, and facility with language may be enough), I suspect it's important to creating work that is original and innovative. And the surprises and revelations that make stories (especially commercial fiction) engaging often depend upon knowledge and facts that are gathered more by happenstance than by focused research.

For some curiosity is an overwhelming drive, while for others it is a minor distraction.  Given how universal and familiar curiosity is, it is surprising that its definition, “a desire to know,” is less than helpful.  David Beswick, a social psychologist and professor emeritus, University of Melbourne, points to the origins of the word in careful attention or scientific or artistic interest (from the same root as accuracy, curate and care).  This seems like a relevant perspective for writers since curiosity often leads to the sort of focused attention that provides insight.

Experimentally, curiosity has been viewed both at a state (feeling curious) and a trait (being a curious person).  For the former, it is clear that we all have a need to be in a state of arousal with regard to knowing more.  If we didn’t question or learn, we wouldn’t be able to satisfy basic needs or grow.

Curiosity, in most cases, is its own reward. It’s an intellectual hunger that feels good to satisfy. It’s also a natural and healthy cure for boredom. But it also can have some practical value. It can be a starting point for creativity, motivating action. It can suggest deeper and/or transgressive  questions that challenge the status quo. It can reveal unexpected truths and new areas worthy of exploration. And it can stimulate an interest in going beyond the obvious to understand other people.

If you are naturally curious, there are a number of ways it can be piqued, including:
    ▪    Novelty
    ▪    Contradictions
    ▪    Incomplete information
    ▪    Delayed gratification (especially when questions go unanswered), which builds anticipation
    ▪    The urge to complete a picture, resolve a story, or solve a mystery.
    ▪    Recognizing and learning to form good questions
    ▪    Getting past expectations so you can observe and listen to other people without judgment

There are ways to reshape your environment to encourage and deepen curiosity:
    •    Reduce attention to wants so that adequate resources for basic needs are not in jeopardy.
    •    Schedule time for exploration that is driven by interests and questions, not just directed at goals.
    •    Move past habitual subjects (preferred genres, current hobbies, engagement in topical subjects) to discover and sample new intellectual areas, kinds of art, and perspectives.

Einstein said, “It is a miracle that curiosity survives formal education.” But, even if you have been trained to be conventional, you can find your way back to child-like virtues like humility, wonder, playfulness, and even obsession, unreasonableness, and rudeness. Embrace the toddler within.

Beswick sees curiosity as successfully balancing openness to what’s new and a natural concern for orderliness. He says, "I see curiosity as a process of creating, maintaining and resolving conceptual conflicts." When something surprising or unique comes up, especially when it doesn’t fit your worldview, a productively curious person will not dismiss it or force it to fit. Typically, it becomes a prompt for questions that lead to research and exploration. And, when enough information is gathered, analysis, restructuring, and testing new perspectives—real and often difficult work— begins. With enough questions, wonder, doubt, and imagination, something new is allowed to emerge. The surprise may fit itself into place or may lead to a new structure of thought and perception.

For many people, going so far with curiosity is difficult. Beswick says, “highly curious people will remain longer than others in situations of uncertainty, as well as being more likely to be there, that they will have developed a range of investigative skills to help resolve conceptual conflicts by gathering additional information, that they will have a sufficient sense of security in their world to put their cognitive map in jeopardy without debilitating anxiety, to run the risk of creating a new and better order, and that they will have the capacity to carry out the integration required to create a sense of cosmos where there was the threat of chaos. That is, they will be able, typically, and more than most people, to create, maintain, and resolve conceptual conflicts.”

Here are some other thoughts on developing curiosity:

• Go slowly - This is about learning at your pace, not someone else's. This may mean taking piano lessons, teaching yourself another language or exploring a new sport.
• Take small steps - Remind yourself of the sayings "How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time!" Remind yourself that self-managed learning means making mistakes so you can learn what works and what doesn't. There are no grades posted, no deadlines to meet. This is your learning something solely for your enrichment.
• The best part is to make a list of things you want to do, learn or play. Find something delicious to eat, play your favorite music, sit down, and create your wish list.
  

Then get ready for the unexpected. You never know where asking a good question will take you.

This is adapted from an article I wrote regarding curiosity and innovation.

Conflict 3 - Us against them

Recently, I heard a reading of a new play (one act) that left me totally charmed. I wasn't alone. Audience members gushed about how positive and uplifting it was. I chewed on it while others dropped in their comments, and the lightbulb went off. The two characters were in league. They were not in conflict with each other; they were in conflict with an external entity. The whole story was about finding ways to help each other — first with the initial technical problem, then with problems they shared regarding relationships.

Such an "us against them" conflict is, in my experience, rare for a stage play two-hander. Most such plays are battles between the characters. So that was a surprise. In addition, the transition from a technical problem to one of relationships was illustrated by the actual development of a relationship between these characters (who began as strangers).

I think that looking for conflict can blind writers to a lot of possibilities for such us against them stories. Romance is one of the few genres where it's easy to pick out mutual appreciation and support through a pair of characters. "Friends to lovers" is an actual trope, with many examples. We love battles. Romantic comedies almost always are founded on a big secret (lie), where the subtext is creating enough vulnerability in a character to make the truth acceptable. Basically, therefore, the two characters are fighting for the same thing, though neither of them really understand it until a lot of work is done.

Friends to lovers can be part of a story, as is true in When Harry Met Sally…. Obviously, the truth can also be true in a buddy movie, which often plays like a romance without connotations of sex. And many team movies are about the development of mutual admiration and respect. Remember the Titans begins with a lot of internal conflict, but advances to the need to come together for a higher cause. And, interestingly enough, a heist movie like Ocean’s Eleven begins with all the characters together working toward a common goal, without much internal conflict, and deepening relationships based on mutual testing and support through difficulties and unpleasant surprises.

In my experience, one of the best ways to build a connection is to work side-by-side with someone on a difficult project. Bonds are formed that matter more than differences and flaws. And I think that's the basis of the deep attachments that people have for Star Trek, The Lord of the Rings, and Star Wars. I'll note that it's quite common when groups are larger than two for betrayal to be a concern or an important plot point. Sacrifice is usually a major element, too. Often, the strength of the relationship is validated by what each character is willing to lose. The Gift of the Magi by O. Henry is a nice example. The husband and wife sacrifice what's precious to them for the other, and even though the practical value of the gifts themselves is nullified, their love for each other is exposed. (I'll note that secrecy is essential to that story.)

There's another area of us against them that's worth mentioning — mentor/mentee relationships. Though there may be some tension around the mentee needing to gain some independence, most of the stories that include such relationships have both characters working toward the same goal and, as they face challenges, becoming more dedicated to each other. Without an outside force, the relationship would remain casual and unproven.

As I worked on this, I noticed that almost every dimension covered here is present (not necessarily between the same characters) in Jerry Maguire. In fact, it's a film worth exploring to see how each plays out to create a positive story with a feel-good ending. And by observing and mastering these ideas, you may more easily create stories about friendships that are all too rare.

——————————
Sept-Oct course
Surprises, Secrets and Revelations - Adding Memorable Twists to Your Stories
September 20 - Oct 17 


How do you keep a reader engaged? One tool is using the desire to find out what happens next. That means predictability is the death of stories. Many people will put down a mystery as soon as they figure out whodunit. And “spoilers” that give away turns and plot points in a movie or a TV show can ruin the experience for audiences.

Twists in the story road add interest by shifting power, revealing intent, and taking things in unexpected directions. They may be tiny or they may be huge. Chandler suggested adding someone coming through the door with a gun when things got slow. Dickens exploited secrets, including family relationships. O. Henry made a career with surprise endings. The Sixth Sense reset the reality of the story in the final minutes of the film.

Surprises may come naturally, as when writers surprise readers because they surprise themselves. But they also can be planned, injected, shaped, and highlighted deliberately.

Lesson 1 The uses of surprise, secrets, and revelations
Lesson 2 Raising questions and surprising yourself
Lesson 3 Faking out the reader without being fake
Lesson 4 Mistakes to avoid
Lesson 5 Pacing (expected/unexpected)
Lesson 6 Planting information
Lesson 7 Revolting developments (amplifying impact)
Lesson 8 Delving deeper
Lesson 9 Working for wonder

Story Conflicts 2 - Fights scenes

I love sword fights in movies and on TV. As a kid, I watched every episode of Zorro (Guy Williams), and those duels excited me so much, I couldn't sit still. I was carried away by the movement. I can't remember any of those fights (except his carving his signature Z), but the duel on top of the train in The Seven Percent Solution and the duel on the ice in The Four Musketeers are both locked into my brain.  My favorite sword fight is from The Princess Bride, and happily it includes some of the elements of a good fight.

Athleticism. Like a good kung fu battle or a boxing match, a sword fight includes startling exhibitions of physical prowess. And these occur within elegant choreography.

Disadvantage. Because a weapon is involved, the loss of a weapon offers an immediate opportunity for a character who might succeed otherwise to be challenged. This possibility makes power shifts believable and easy for the writer to include in dramatic moments. While any sort of fight can offer something like this (guns can jam, limbs can be broken), with swords, the advantage can be quickly restored.

Just as there are shifts in power that occurred during an argument, there can be shifts in a sword fight. Ideally, these escalate, becoming more and more excruciating for audiences with each turn.

Conversation. While there may be a few words shouted back and forth during a gunfight or grunted comments between blows in a boxing match, neither offer the believable option of fairly normal dialogue. The grace of a sword fight is such that, though at one level we know the fighters are somewhat breathless, it appears that both the distance and postures make it seem as normal as talking to a dance partner.

Time. Anyone who has watched Olympic fencing expecting exciting duels has been disappointed. Points are scored with amazing speed. Real sword fighting is nearly as quick. (Michael York, who is an expert, had to be slowed down for the musketeers movies.) As it happens, audiences are trained to allow for extended fight sequences. (No real barroom brawl with last as long as most in films.) So cheating is accepted.

But sword fights can cheat and add interest by having them occur in a setting that has many obstacles, which is done in an exaggerated way in The Princess Bride. As a note, it includes the classic spiral staircase. It turns (as is true in real structures all the time) in a direction that disadvantages right-handed fighters headed up versus right-handed fighters headed downward. Interestingly, this is the only portion of the battle where Montoya (fighting right) and Roberts (fighting left) battle with opposite hands, nullifying any advantage.

Spectacle. Any physical battle is visually interesting. Gunfights can be dramatic with rushes to cover and desperate moves to reload guns. Boxing matches are close in, with both characters and frame at the same time, and become very personal with consequences for each blow. But sword fights include strategic positioning and can have both characters in frame.

Now, while I believe that sword fights have natural advantages, all of the above are worth considering for whatever physical conflict (including those with person against nature) fits into your story. (Man against himself conflict with the physical dimension is fairly rare. But Mr. Smith Goes to Washington does combine argument and Jefferson Smith working to keep himself going hour after hour during a Senate filibuster.)

A point on describing the conflict: There is a temptation to focus on the moves of the characters (especially the protagonists), but the interesting part is the effects of their actions. Stating that a character throws a left jab is not as compelling as what that jab does — say, break the opponents nose. The writing comes alive more effectively when the impacts of each initiative are clearly described.

The preparation should be mentioned, too. Visually, it can be fun to see the choices the character makes and, the information in terms of how people put on protective equipment, bind their joints, choose their weapons, etc. can be fascinating. While there is not a lot of that in The Princess Bride, it does have a memorable conversation that fits in nicely and naturally provides the back story for Montoya.

I don't pretend to be comprehensive in this post. But I hope some of the elements here will provide helpful reminders of what makes a good physical conflict scene.