Should Your Character Be an Orphan?

Spider-Man debuts: Amazing Fantasy #15 (Aug. 1962). Cover art by Jack Kirby (penciler) and Steve Ditko (inker). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

If you're writing a story that features a young hero, one of the most difficult questions you will have to answer is this: How many parents should your character have? Two? One? None?

Why is this difficult? Because writers often pattern their young characters after themselves at the same age, and killing off your character’s parents can feel like killing off your own.

Also, doing away with your character’s parents flies in the face of our normal human desire for our characters to be happy, healthy, and whole.

Yet heroes who have lost one or both parents dominate all kinds of fiction: Superman, Spider-Man, Katniss Everdeen in The Hunger Games, Scout Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird, and so forth. “Cinderella,” “Hansel and Gretel,” and other children's stories also feature heroes whose parents are either dead or absent.

Why can offing your character's parents be a good thing? Let's take a closer look at some of the examples above:

Katniss Everdeen

Katniss lost her father to a mining accident some years before The Hunger Games begins, leaving her to care for her emotionally absent mother and very young sister. Although it’s not explicitly stated in the film, Katniss appears to be her family’s sole provider: she hunts and begs for food.

These dire circumstances imbue Katniss with a streak of independence and strength of character which make her actions in the story plausible. Protective of her sister, Katniss volunteers to take her place in the Hunger Games. Able to hunt and hide, she possesses an advantage over most of her competitors.

In short, the loss of her father has turned Katniss into a survivor.

Scout Finch

Jean Louise “Scout” Finch ages from six to eight in Harper Lee’s novel To Kill a Mockingbird, but Scout lost her mother when she was two. Although she and her older brother, Jem, are looked after by their father’s cook, Calpurnia, the absence of a close female role model becomes apparent when Scout’s aunt, Alexandra, comes to live with them. 

Alexandra tries to mold Scout into a lady and indoctrinate her into the beliefs and practices considered proper for ladies in their small, 1930s Alabama town. But tomboy Scout wears overalls, gets into fights with Jem and other boys, and sneaks into the courthouse to watch her father, lawyer Atticus Finch, at work. 

In fact, Scout’s close relationship with her father plays a significant role in her open-mindedness and acceptance of people who are different from her (such as black people and the Finch's reclusive neighbor, Boo Radley), attitudes which are decidedly at odds with the judgmental and racist views common in her town. Scout learns to see the world through another's perspective, echoing her father's philosophy.

Had her mother lived, the novel implies, Scout may not have had such a close relationship with Atticus.

Superman and Spider-Man 

Both are orphans. Superman lost not only his natural parents but his entire world when Krypton exploded.  Raised by the kindly Kents, he becomes orphaned a second time when they pass away (in the original continuity, at least). 

Why was it necessary for Superman to lose two sets of parent? The answer DC Comics gave was to show that, for all his powers, Superman was not a god. There were things he could not control, such as death.

Spider-Man’s parents died when he was young, and he was raised by his aunt and uncle. He, too, experiences a second tragedy when Uncle Ben is shot and killed, which provides Spider-Man with his motivation to become a hero: “With great power comes great responsibility.”

Would it have made a difference if Ben Parker were Spidey’s father instead of his uncle? Perhaps writer Stan Lee chose to distance Peter Parker from his natural parents because the death of a parent in story would have been too schocking or hard for his young readers to take. (Consider how the murder of Batman’s parents, which happens in story, makes that character so much darker and his readers’ expectations of him so different from the examples above.) 

Katniss, Scout, Superman and Spidey lost one or both parents years before each of their stories begins. In each case (except Katniss), they are too young to remember the lost parent or parents. This allows the reader to feel sympathy toward them without being too horrified or grief-stricken.

Damon and The Power Club

Readers of this blog who have checked out the chapters of my novel-in-progress, The Power Club™, may have noticed that I've violated this apparent rule: Damon's parents are both alive and well, at least in the prologue.

Truth is, it never occurred to me to kill them off before. Even now, I'm on the fence about doing so. Damon has plenty of other things to cause him consternation, and I want him to be an individual character, not an archetype.

Besides, some stories do feature heroes whose parents live. (The Waltons and numerous other TV series come to mind.)

Another besides: Damon’s entire story has yet to be be written, so who knows what the future holds in store for Mr. and Mrs. Neumeyer?

Tie Your Mother Down?

So, why should you consider offing your character's parents? Because in our world the traditional family unit of two parents and 2.5 children is, whether we admit it or not, often considered the norm—the ideal standard for raising healthy, happy, and whole children. At least that's what many of our politicians say.

But your hero lives in an imperfect world (as do most of your readers). Something is missing and your hero sets out on a quest to find it. Or something is not right, and your hero tries to fix it. 

Taking your hero out of her "perfect" world sets your story in motion.

If you like this post, you may also like:

• Playing the Game: How The Hunger Games Combines Adventure and Social Commentary

• Should Writers Be Original or Do What the “Experts” Say?

• Superman Vs. Batman: Choose Your Icon

Free Story: "Santa Drives a Chevrolet," Part 2

Art: Steve Daniels

Click here for Part 1.  

            “Damon, wake up,” his mother said softly. “It’s Christmas.”

            His eyes shot open.  The morning glare hit him like a brass band. 

            “Take it easy,” his mother said.  “Let’s see if you’re up to finding out what Santa brought you.  Oh, I’m sorry.  I forgot.”

            Damon didn’t realize at first why she was apologizing.  He looked around the room, trying to remember . . . what?

            “Mom?  Did someone come into our house last night?”

            “Don’t tell me you’re going back to believing in Santa Claus, dear,” she said as he felt his forehead.  “Good news: Your fever broke.  Why don’t you go see what you got for Christmas?”

            Damon sat up.  He felt . . . strange, as if part of his brain were still asleep.  He remembered exhaling and summoning the darkspace, but he couldn’t remember making it go away – and Damon always remembered that!  He also remembered . . .

            The door handle!

            He ran to the front door. It looked undisturbed.  He reached for the handle to see if it was locked.

            “Why are you going outside?” his mother called to him.  “Go to the Christmas tree and see what presents you have.”

            The tree was surrounded by red and green packages with pictures of Santa, bells or angels.  There were a few gifts from Grandma and Grandpa Neumeyer, who always used the same white and blue-striped wrapping year after year. 

            Eldon was already unwrapping a toy bulldozer.  He looked up when he saw Damon.  “Did you see him?  Did you see Santa?”

            Damon hesitated.  “I don’t know.”

            Eldon frowned.  “I knew you couldn’t stay awake all night.”

            “But I did!  At least I think I did.”  Damon felt disappointed.  He must have fallen asleep, after all, and dreamed the whole thing.

            Eldon smiled mysteriously. “Well, you musta’ seen somebody.”     

            “What do you mean?”

            “You got an extra present.”

            Damon looked at the gifts under the tree, and there it was: a present in sky-blue paper, no bigger than a shoebox.  His name was written across the paper in a handwriting he didn’t recognize.  He picked up the gift, tore off the paper, and gasped.

            It was a Captain Meteor action figure.

            Damon opened the attached card.  In the same handwriting, it read:

         

Dear Damon,

            You won’t remember what happened last night because I used fairy dust to make you forget.  But you did something extraordinary – so Santa’s going to let you in on his little secret.

            When I opened your front door, it was black as a pit in your house!  Now, I’m used to coming to the district and all the powers some of you kids have, but my new elf assistant, Seymour, wasn’t.  He panicked, ran outside, and slipped on the ice.  He hurt his leg   badly.  Luckily, adults don’t believe in Santa or elves anymore, so your parents weren't awakened by his howling.

            Well, you felt so bad about what happened that you came outside, sick as you were, and tried to help.  You told Seymour stories about Capt. Meteor to get his mind off the pain while Santa used another batch of fairy dust to make him better.

            I’m so touched by what you did (but not Seymour – who says he’s never coming back to the district again!) that I want you to have your own Capt. Meteor.  Your mother’s right – he’s very expensive, so take good care of him.  More imporantly, you’ve got an amazing power.  Use it wisely, like Capt. Meteor would.   

                                                                                                                        Santa

            Damon searched his memory to see if any of it was true, but he couldn’t remember a thing!  He ran to the window to see if there were footprints in the snow, but his dad was shoveling snow off the sidewalk.

            “No!” Damon shouted.

            “What’s the matter?” Eldon asked.

            Damon thrust the card to his brother, but Eldon missed it.  The card fluttered to the floor.  When Eldon picked it up, he looked puzzled and showed it to Damon.  The card was blank.

            Eldon laughed when Damon told him what the card had said.  “It didn’t say that!  You made it up!”

            “It’s true!  Didn’t Seymour’s howling wake you up last night?”

            Eldon looked down at the bulldozer.  “I was already awake.  I was watching for Santa through the upstairs window when I saw a Hummer park across the street and two people got out.”

            Damon nodded, remembering that he’d seen the Hummer, too.  “It was just the district police, making their rounds.”

            Eldon shook his head.  “It wasn’t the police.  It was just people who work for the district. They went to one house after another, carrying presents.”

            Damon studied the Captain Meteor action figure.  “But why would people from the district bring us presents?”

            “Don’t they teach you anything in that special school you go to?” Eldon said, rolling his eyes.  “The district wants us to have a normal life, so they give us stuff ‘cause there aren’t many places inside the district to buy toys.”  

            “You saw them come into our house?” Damon said, bewildered.

Art: Joe Hall

            “’course not!” Eldon replied, reminding Damon that, from their room, they couldn’t see the front porch.  “But who else could ita’ been?”  He walked back to his new bulldozer.  “Last year, they drove a Chevrolet.  I guessed the district was too dangerous for Santa to drive a sleigh, but, when I saw that Hummer, I stopped believing in Santa Claus.”         

            Damon felt like a balloon that had lost its helium.  It all made sense.  Workers from the district would have keys to all the houses.  And maybe one of the workers had a power to make Damon forget.  They could have used a disappearing ink on the card.

            He held the action figure away from himself, as if it were an unwanted thing.  Through the packaging, Captain Meteor’s painted-on eyes stared at him with confidence and power as if to echo what the card had said.

            You’ve got an amazing power.  Use it wisely.

            Damon decided it didn’t matter if Santa Claus was real or not. He carefully opened the package and took out his new toy.

Why You Can't Write for "Everyone"

Image by orkomedix via Flickr

Okay – technically, you can write for everyone.  But should you try?  That is, should your target audience be every living soul on the face of the planet?

Beginning writers often make the mistake of saying their target audience is everyone. And, on the surface, that seems wise. Who would want to exclude potential readers? And don’t the most successful works of fiction (e.g., Harry Potter) have broad appeal?

Well, yes and no.

In the first Harry Potter novel, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, Harry is 11 years old. Mid-grade novels are usually written for children a year or two younger than the protagonist; therefore, J.K. Rowling’s intended audience was aged 9-10. Certainly, the cover and interior illustrations were designed for that audience, and Rowling even adopted her gender-neutral nom de plume to appeal to boys.

It happened that the world Rowling created was so magical and Harry so universally identifiable that the series appealed to girls, teens, and even adults as well as 9-10 year-old boys. But that outcome is rare.

Instead of targeting “everybody,” writers should focus on a narrow audience.

Who do you envision as your primary readers? Men? Women? What age range? What socioeconomic status? Do you see your readers having a religious affiliation? A political one? What would their interests and hobbies be? What music, TV shows, sports do they follow? What is their level of education?

The better you know your target audience, the better you’ll know what likely appeals to them and what likely turns them off.

This does not mean your characters have to be carbon copies of some imaginary reader who is male, 35, lives in the suburbs, goes to a Methodist church, votes Democrat, roots for the St. Louis Cardinals, and has a B.A. in architectural design.   In fact, you might want to avoid using such overly specific details in your story unless they are important.

But no character or story can appeal to every reader.

No, not even Harry Potter. When authors say their book is targeted to everyone, it usually means they haven’t given their audience much thought. 

Unless you are writing exclusively for yourself, you should consider who is going to see your book on the shelf or online, whose eye is going to be attracted by the cover design, and who is going to pay money to read the words you have worked so hard to craft.

Have you narrowed down your audience?

Related articles

• Spells and Charms: Harry Potter and the Power of Positive Thinking (psychologytoday.com)
• Book Review: Harry Potter - A Global Business Phenomenon by Susan Gunelius (blogcritics.org)

What Super-Power Would You Choose?

If you could have any super-power, what would it be?

My novel-in-progress, The Power Club™, is built on the premise that people who have powers do not get to choose them.  You work with what you’ve got.  You either develop your abilities, or you bury them.

But a member of one of my critique groups recently suggested that I ask readers of my blog what power they would choose.  So, here it is:

If you could have any one super-power, what would it be and why?

For our purposes, a super-power can be defined as any ability that is physically or mentally impossible for a human being to do without the aid of devices, weapons, or machinery of some kind.  Thus, flying in an airplane is not a super-power, but flying on your own (a la Superman) is.

And, just to make it harder, you can pick only one power.  So, no fair saying "Superman's powers."  You can pick only one (flying, x-ray vision, super-strength, invulnerability, etc.).

In fact, the ability to fly like Superman was my first choice.  The idea of soaring over houses and trees, feeling the wind brush my face, and being able to exercise my body with the currents of the air was enormously appealing to me as a kid (and still is).  And Christopher Reeve made it look so easy!

When this question has come up in more recent years, I’ve said I’d choose super-intelligence so I could figure out how to have all the other super-powers.  But even intelligence has its drawbacks.  (In comics, brainy heroes are the ones most likely to go insane!)

Even more recently, I’ve coveted the ability to radiate heat and light, a la Sun Boy of the Legion of Super-Heroes.  This versatile power can be used offensively, but it’s also very practical.  I’d never go cold in the winter.  I could light up any area to change a flat.  And the power of sun just radiates positive energy!

Ironically, this is the exact opposite of the power my main character has.  Damon creates darkness, not light.  But darkness itself is not evil.  It’s what you do with it that counts.

What about you?  Leave a comment describing what super-power you'd give yourself and why.

Why I Write about Super-heroes and Why You Should Care

Image via Wikipedia

When you think of super-heroes, you probably think of Batman swinging across Gotham City and punching The Joker in the face. 

Or you think of Superman flying high above the Capitol, bearing the American flag. 

Or Spider-Man cracking wise as he bundles criminals in webs and leaves them for the cops to find.

All indelible images. But that’s not the whole story.

Yes, super-heroes stand for truth, justice and the American (or Krytponian or Asgardian) way. But they also stand for much more.

My novel in progress, The Power Club, started with the idea of kids having super-powers. I did not call them “super-heroes” because I wanted to avoid the clichés that people think of when they think about super-heroes. But when I’ve described my novel to others, they inevitably associate the concept with super-heroes.  

This, I’ve learned, is not necessarily a bad thing.

Furthermore, my main character, Damon, wants to turn his super-powered friends into heroes. Why he wants to do this is central to our understanding of super-heroes and why they matter.

Adolescent Power Fantasies? Yes and No

Super-heroes represent our primal need for three things: power, authority, and acceptance. Children become aware of their own power (or lack thereof) the first time they encounter a bully. They become aware of authority early on, and when teachers, police officers, or other adults fail to protect them or to seek justice on their behalf by punishing said bullies, they become aware of the limits of authority. They also learn early on that, in order to gain acceptance from other kids, they usually have to learn the pecking order and change their identities (including their interests or the way they dress) in order to “fit in.”

Super-heroes paradoxically help children both deal with the harsh realities of life and to escape from them. They do so by offering elaborate fantasies in which the kid has power, can fill in the gaps of authority, and wins acceptance from the general public or other super-heroes.

But the appeal of super-heroes does not stop at childhood.

Adult Power Fantasies and Male Ego Trips

Super-heroes continue to influence and inspire us even into adulthood. Consider just about any movie Arnold Schwarzenegger has ever made. Sure, he doesn’t wear a cape or bend steel with his bare hands (except, perhaps, in the Terminator films), but he’s a super-hero, nonetheless. Perhaps “action hero” is the more acceptable term, but it’s the same thing.

Consider Chuck Norris (whose martial arts expertise is portrayed in films as almost super-human), Jean-Claude Van Damme, and Will Smith (in certain roles). They all accomplish the seemingly impossible, endure horrendous physical abuse, and win over crowds by triumphing over the forces of evil.

Super-heroes all.

What about Women?

Someone recently told me that girls get short shrift as super-heroes, and, unfortunately, she was right. As recently as 2007, Warner Bros. slighted girls when it marketed Happy Meal toys at McDonald’s to tie in with the cartoon series Legion of Super-Heroes. The LSH is a team that contains at least ten super-heroines, but none of them were marketed as toys. 

Furthermore, female super-heroes often endure story lines that undermine or destroy them as super-heroes. Batgirl, in the famous Killing Joke comic (1988), was shot and crippled by The Joker. Now she’s the wheelchair-bound computer genius known as Oracle.

But in some ways, these stories mirror the struggles women face every day: glass ceilings, lower wages than their male counterparts, and sexist attitudes in a culture that is still coming to terms with equality. Super-heroes, therefore, have something vital to say to women as they do to men.

So, why do I write about super-heroes and why should you care? Because, in essence, every story is about someone facing the challenges super-heroes face: understanding power, dealing with authority, and seeking acceptance. No other genre brings this struggle to life as vividly or in such clear-cut terms.

Who are your favorite super-heroes and why?

Super-Hero Leaders

Being a leader means making tough choices. But it also means much more. Good leaders inspire others to follow their lead, know their teammates’ strengths and weaknesses, and serve as role models for the entire team.

If you’re the leader of a super-hero team, you must do all of that and call the shots in battle, knowing that every decision you make may cost lives or even destroy the world.

I began thinking about comic book leaders because of a recent discussion on the Legion World message board. In my novel, my 11-year-old protagonist, Damon, has recently been elected leader of The Power Club. Of course, they aren’t heroes—yet. But Damon wants them to become heroes. If he succeeds, what will be in store for him? Will his greatest challenges come from “villains” or from within the team itself?

Probably both.

Here are my thoughts on two comic book leaders, their personalities, and the tough choices they made:

Mr. Fantastic (The Fantastic Four)

Reed Richards is the classic workaholic who is so devoted to his research (or to saving the world from Doctor Doom) that he often ignores his physical needs and his relationships. In the real world, this obsession is not a good sign for a leader, and, even in the comic book world, Reed often pays a price for his single-mindedness.

In Fantastic Four # 112, Reed’s teammate and best friend, Ben Grimm (The Thing) is locked in deadly battle with The Hulk. Reed refuses to join the battle because he is working on a doohickey that will cure The Thing of a condition that has altered his personality, making him more aggressive. Even when The Human Torch tries to fly to Ben’s aid, Reed -- who needs Johnny's help to build the device -- stops him by dousing the Torch’s flame with a fire extinguisher!

Reed completes his doohickey, but too late. He and Johnny arrive on the field of battle just after The Hulk delivers a death blow to the Thing.

(Of course, this being comic books, Ben eventually gets better.)

Did Reed do the right thing? He thought he did. He weighed the options and determined the best path to help his friend. His gambit failed miserably, but that’s the risk of being a leader.

Invisible Kid (The Legion of Super-Heroes)

Unlike super-teams that have permanent leaders, the Legion elects a new leader every year. Invisible Kid (Lyle Norg) was, as his name implies, one of the least visible Legionnaires – a second stringer on a team that included powerhouses such as Superboy, Mon-El, and Ultra Boy. So, it came as a surprise when he was elected leader for one term back in the 1960s. How much of a surprise? Even one of his own teammates didn’t take him seriously.

In Adventure Comics # 350-351, when the Legion admits two masked members, Sir Prize and Miss Terious, Invisible Kid promises that the team will respect their anonymity. However, some Legionnaires suspect that the newcomers are really villains, so Ultra Boy defies Invisible Kid’s order and starts to use his penetra-vision to see through Sir Prize’s lead mask.

What does Invisible Kid do? He asserts his authority by punching Ultra Boy in the jaw.

In the real world, Lyle would probably be brought up on all kinds of charges or even impeached. But it took chutzpah to go up against one of the most powerful Legionnaires. More, Invisible Kid established that, as leader, he was the supreme authority of the Legion and, when he made a promise for the entire team, everyone better keep it!

But what if Lyle had been wrong? What if Sir Prize and Miss Terious actually were villains? That’s the risk the leader must take. Leaders, as Lyle showed, must stand for something – an ideal that rises above unfounded fears and suspicions. In other words, Lyle had the moral authority to decide what was best for the Legion and the integrity to enforce that authority.

Being a leader is not easy in the real world. In the comic book world it’s even harder. But, at their best, real and fictional leaders make the choices we don’t want to make and inspire us to better ourselves.

Leave a comment: Who do you think are the best super-hero leaders and why?

Character Sketch: The Powers We’re Born With.

Denton Neumeyer daydreams of being able to fly, of being super-strong, and of running super-fast, but he can’t do any of those things. Instead, he creates darkness. It’s not a bad power, as far as powers go, but it’s not cool. And Denton wants to be cool. He even changes his name to “Damon”— after a character in a movie.

But he can’t change his power.

Damon is the central character of my novel-in-progress, The Power Club. When we first meet him, he’s six years old and has discovered his power only a few months ago. He’s the only kid in his neighborhood with a power, and he uses it to amuse his friends: creating a “darkspace” in which they can run and hide. But when one of his friends blindly runs out into the alley and is nearly hit by a car, the government learns of his power and does what the government always does : It “encourages” Damon and his family to move the district, the place where people with powers live.

For the next five years, Damon grows up alongside other kids who can do amazing things. One of his classmates can freeze objects by breathing on them. Another possesses radar vision. But it’s the kids in Damon’s new neighborhood he most wants to be like: a teleporter, a speedster, a giant. Even the girls have more fascinating powers: one can fly, another can see the future.

But we don’t get to choose our powers.

Some people are born with musical talent. Others can draw. Some are good at organizing. Others have people skills. Some have an aptitude for mathematics. Others for medicine.

Where do powers come from? God? Genetics? Can anyone master a given ability? I think not.

I’ve tried on at least three separate occasions to learn guitar. I know where the chords are, and I can play the melody lines of a few songs. But Eric Clapton and Ritchie Blackmore have nothing to fear from me. Somebody once told me that I didn’t persist in my efforts to learn music, but I know when it’s not going well. I know when I’m not enjoying it enough to do the work.

On the other hand, I’ve spent my life learning to write (no one ever truly masters writing). I enjoy it, and I think I’m reasonably good at it. I may never be the next Stephen King or Orson Scott Card, but I don't have to be. I'm content to be the first me.

In other words, my gifts lay elsewhere.

Damon may never get to fly or bench press a Hummer. But he has been given a wonderful gift he can develop and use to help others or cause great harm. Which path will he choose? To answer that question, he must first know himself better.

The Power Club will take him on that amazing and terrifying journey.

How did you discover your gifts?

The foregoing is © 2011 Greg Gildersleeve. All rights reserved. Unlawful use will result in the culprit being placed in the darkspace for an indeterminate period of time. And we don’t want that to happen, do we?