Big
and hairy, green teeth dripping with goo. You get the idea. It’s a villain.
No
matter what he, she or it looks like, a bad guy’s primary goal is to shut down
the good guy. The
protagonist needs to make forward motion and for whatever reason, the villain
disagrees.
In
good fiction, the bad guy isn’t obvious or at least has some believable reason
for a twisted point of view. People are complicated and it’s no different for
an effective antagonist.
My
laptop is open without interruption – a rare moment. From my perch at the
kitchen counter, I notice little piles here and there, bills waiting to be paid
and laundry to done.
But
I need to write.
Today,
I plow through the angst of choosing a career with no concrete list of orders
each morning (unless I make one) or time-clock (unless my alarm counts), and
where success eludes me if I don’t move myself
forward.
A
blank screen is intimidating, of course. But something more sinister lurks. As
diabolical as a genetically-designed Godzilla in Jurassic World, it’s tailor-made to shut me down. It comes to
devour my journey. This villain has studied me, knows my quirks, failures and
mistakes.
But
unlike some monster creeping in the shadows, this villain is me. At least until I decide to resign
that role.
My
writing is a journey. It unfolds as I move forward. It evolves through
surprises, plot twists and lots of conflict. It won’t end until I decide to
stop.
Like
the protagonist in my favorite novel, I may be unaware of how formidable that
bad guy can be. And what the stakes are if I give in and quit.
Villain-talk goes something
like this:
My last query got
rejected fifteen times. It must be a sign. Wrong career.
I’m staring at a
blank screen. It’s a sign. I have no more fresh ideas.
I’ve written
myself into a corner as a fiction writer. It’s a sign. Toss it out the
manuscript.
There are big
structure problems in my novel. It’s a sign. The whole story is flawed.
Another day
without writing? No big deal.
A week without
writing? Better quit. Too hard to take it up now.
My writer friends
are multi-published. Where’s my success?
(Remember
that adding It’s a sign gathers a
weight of the ages on already tired shoulders.)
The
surest way to foil a crafty bad guy is to understand his tactics, to discern
his mode of operandum. Does he gather other bad guys to help? Does he undermine
confidence, slander reputation or isolate with shame? What tactics do I use
against myself on a bad day?
Opposition
doesn’t have to work against me. It can stir me to persevere, to hone my craft
by learning and investing more into my journey. It can make me shine.
Pressure
can uncover a well in me that isn’t dry after all. Or prove that I’ve learned
good instincts after plowing through all those conferences, critiques and
evaluations.
The
crux of a great story always has a villain. It just shouldn’t be me. Or you.
Because without us, our stories go nowhere.
Resolve
to be your own best champion. You’ve got a great story. Keep writing it!
