Drawing Lines, Crossing Lines - Moments that expose characters

We are defined by our limits and redefined when those limits dissolve. The same is true for the world we inhabit — as anyone who has had to baby-proof a house after the little ones learn to walk (or gets taller or climbs) knows.

Limits are often presented in positive terms: law-abiding, honorable, loyal, trustworthy, dependable.
Those who erase conventional lines may be called criminal, cowardly, cheating, lying, shiftless.

I find our attachment of values to these words fascinating (though, being more of a boy scout than an anti-hero, I tend to favor a relatively rigid set of principles). And a challenge.

“Make good trouble” (John Lewis) unsettles me. As a citizen and a human being, I worry about my reaction, but, as a writer I welcome it. I depend upon my work (and art and relationships) to push me out of my comfort zone — past my limits — so my mind opens up to truth. My primary tool for doing this is humility. That’s not self-abasement. That’s recognizing the world is not black and white (which would make it easier to navigate). It’s full of grays. Ambiguities. Competing values. That undermine assumptions and force me to recognize my limits.

Part of character development is coming to understand what matters to them and what doesn’t. In The Godfather, to Michael — and most of the other characters — family means everything. There are also rules that the powerful accept and can reasonably expect others to adhere to. Favors matter and are repaid. There is a process for making a hit that considers witnesses and how they might react. Stick to it and you’ll be safer. Making gravy for the pasta may have less strict limits, but you’d never make it without garlic.

When Michael crosses some lines — lying to his wife, having his brother murdered — it shows a great deal about who he is and how he has changed.

For a storyteller, rules are made to be broken. At the beginning of Casablanca, Rick defines himself:
What’s your nationality? Rick: I’m a drunkard.
Will I see you tonight? Rick: I never make plans that far ahead.
… and, most famously, “I stick my neck out for nobody!”

When he sobers up, when he meets the moment, when he plans the escape, and when he abandons everything and risks his life, he has dared to move past his own definitions and assumptions. He successfully moves into a world that is less comfortable, but a better fit for his true self. Crossing the old lines and creating new ones tied to honor and loyalty and responsibility and love make him a memorable hero.

We celebrate when Chief Bromden throws off the protection of his lassitude to hurl the fountain through the window and escape. (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest)
The moment that commits Luke Skywalker to becoming a Jedi is when he turns off the targeting computer. The boy who first said no to leaving his uncle’s farm becomes a man. And audiences cheer. (Star Wars - A New Hope)
And for me, the sense of relief when Ethan Edwards (John Wayne) tosses aside his firmly held but distorted view of honor, breaks his vow, and welcomes his niece instead of killing her, has not diminished with repeated viewing of that movie. (The Searchers)

Crossing lines and creating lines are strongest when deliberate (a considered choice) and irreversible. (Or, if not irreversible, only reversed at a cost and with contrition.) The lines may be rules (including the law in, say, Huck Finn’s case). It can be escaping an abuser or bad influence. It can be losing religion or joining an army. Or, after struggling with commitment, whispering “I love you.”

Lines can be discovered in writing or planned ahead. They can be found in characters’ self statements, commitments to loved ones, responsibilities to family and friends, assignments accepted, and community expectations that are internalized. The best ones sometimes need to be excavated before they are visible. Since our language itself attaches (often rigid) values to the words associated with lines, it’s very easy to miss the nuances or just accept lines that could be tested as givens. This, to me, is the hardest part.

Looking at the implications, the problems created or solved by lines, how the envelope might be pushed, who is impacted, and, most of all, what the lines (created, held, or crossed) say about a character and change begins with recognizing and articulating the lines and what they mean. Once they are clearly understood, story possibilities become visible. And the fun begins.