Why Are Stock Characters Always the Same in Movies, Shows, Books and Plays?

 Are you as tired of stock characters as I am? I’m talking about the ones we see over and over again in books, plays and movies and streaming or TV. 

I understand not every single character can be as complex as the main ones, but I do wish we’d broaden our sights more when working on secondary characters.

What kind of stock/secondary characters are bugging me right now? Let’s start with the most obvious ones:

Read more:

Photo: Tra Nguyen on Unsplash

That Voice

Being a playwright/author has made me think a lot about monologues -- mostly in plays but also in books. My latest book is more or less one long monologue--and to me, the most important part of any monologue is the voice. 

What does that mean, exactly? I think it's about inviting readers into the world of the author -- and making the voice you hear when you open the door as unforgettable as possible.

In plays and movies, that voice tends to be a monologue. A good one will take hold of you right away and refuse to let go. So for fun, today, I thought I'd choose my favorite monologue -- and invite you to do the same.

It's spoken by the flawless Robert Shaw as the character of Quint in Jaws, as he talks about being on the U. S. S. Indianapolis. After delivering the Hiroshima Bomb, the ship was attacked by Japanese torpedoes.

The monologue comes on the heels of Quint and his two companions on a boat, joking and laughing. When Quint begins talking about the Indianapolis, the air changes and the other men listen silently. He descends slowly into his memory of the men on the boat being forced into shark-filled waters during WWII. Their mission to deliver the Bomb to be dropped on Hiroshima was so secret, no one was sent to help them when their ship was hit by a torpedo.

Quint's words tunnel into our heads as we watch him recall what it meant to wait for the jaws of a shark to close around him. He finds a friend's body gone below the waist, and continues to describe the "doll's eyes" of the shark until the grip of its teeth caused the eyes to roll. Quint ends the monologue by saying, "Anyway. We delivered the Bomb."

This isn't about Quint telling us what we should think of his character. It's showing us who he is through the language--using his voice to evoke the emotions that drive him. 

My other favorite speech is actually plural, including dialogues AND monologues in the recent series Midnight Mass. There was so much about this series that captivated me, and though I loved Erin's speech about God, I can't choose only one piece. 

What do you think? Do you have a favorite monologue?

Meanwhile, yes, I did say "my latest book" when I started this post. More to come next week.

😊 

Shark photo: Michael Ravodin

Likeable? Strong? Bringing Both Traits to Your Characters

 

When I was starting to write plays, one of my main aims was to write strong women characters. What I ran into here and there were a lot of people saying, "Don't you want your character to be likable?"

This drove me crazy, because why do women always have to be likeable? Can't they be "like" everyone else?

What I found though, was that if my heroines were considered "too" dark or angry, the plays didn't go anywhere. This also drove me crazy, but then I started thinking on it a little.

What I arrived at, eventually, is that when people open a book or see a play or movie they are kinda-sorta looking for someone to identify with as a kindred spirit. Someone in that book/play/film is the stand-in for who they see themselves to be--or want to be.

I don't know if that's what we're looking for in leaders, or great supreme court justices (cue the crowds chanting RBG's name). But in fiction, we are, and if we don't get it--we can be pretty unforgiving about that.

I decided to keep writing strong women characters, but add a little more kindness or perception or sensitivity or humor or something to them--whatever I wanted to see in a friend. When I did that, it seemed to make a difference in how the play I was writing was received. That difference was positive, so I thought--hmm. Yeah. Okay.

When I think about this now, I wonder if the word likability is misplaced. Maybe what we are really looking for is connectability--someone we connect with on a deep enough level to carry us through an entire book/film/story. Someone who would do the things we would--if we only could.

Creating main characters that people can connect to emotionally is crucial if you're going to succeed in writing. They don't have to be perfect people--in fact it's better if they're not--but they do have to be compelling enough so even if they do something "bad," you can still relate to them.

For more on this, I found a few resources:

What Makes a Character Likable?

The First Rule of Creating Likable Characters

How to Make Unlikeable Characters Likeble

Photo of young woman (maybe Ruby)? by Christina Welsh

Author Day on Beat Street: Whatcha Got?

I was at a table in Brooklyn somewhere, sitting with a man named Ralph and his friend Michael. I'd been in the city maybe one or two days and they were taking me out for coffee, or drinks. I had moved from Boston to New York to be an actress. I was 23 years old.

The waitress walked over slowly and looked at us like a snake, waiting to strike.

"Whatcha want?" she asked.

"Whatcha got?" Ralph said.

She looked him up and down. "Nothin'."

I can't remember if she had a uniform or her own clothes, but I know they were black. She had dark, curly hair and crimson lips. Long, dangly earrings. In seven seconds she'd managed to terrify me and become my hero. 

Ralph just laughed.

I think he got some kind of eggs and a drink, I got coffee and Michael got something too but I can't remember. I think her name was Rita, but that may just the name I've given her. I wanted to write a story about her. I never did.

Years and years and years have passed, and I've written thousands and thousands of words. I was an actress for a few years and then became a writer. I kept seeing a young girl wander in and out of vision, dark and tough, with a bit of a chip on her shoulder. A little angry, but smart enough to be funny about it.

I named her Ruby. I can see her being this waitress in her early twenties, in Brooklyn somewhere.

Whatcha got?

Nothin/.

I don't know where my Ruby will end up, and this waitress thing could just be a pass-through, probably is. But that one night was the night she was born.

Funny how they come to us. How long they can stay.

Dark haired woman: Victoria Dixon