Hello. I'm an aspiring writer.
Vs.
Hello. I'm an aspiring builder.
Which makes for a more interesting introductory sentence? The second, obviously. Why? Because it's relatable. Now sure, the fundamental idea here is painfully simple, but it's nonetheless something that I've noticed in the first few pages of ultra popular novels. These authors take this premise of a familiar MC to the extreme and seem to be very successful.
Examples
I scowl with frustration at myself in the mirror. Damn my hair – it just won’t behave, and damn Katherine Kavanagh for being ill and subjecting me to this ordeal. I should be studying for my final exams, which are next week, yet here I am trying to brush my hair into submission. I must not sleep with it wet. I must not sleep with it wet. Reciting this mantra several times, I attempt, once more, to bring it under control with the brush. I roll my eyes in exasperation and gaze at the pale, brown-haired girl with blue eyes too big for her face staring back at me, and give up. My only option is to restrain my wayward hair in a ponytail and hope that I look semi-presentable.
Eeek! The painful prose, the lack of wit: all, well, not much better than my own writing. It's horrendously banal and, most importantly, does not feature an intriguing concept. Though it probably doesn't need to. Instead, the paragraph features popularity-porn, and expresses the angst and emotions of pretty much every human being alive. OH, no, my hair is all... funny. NO! This situation is something we all endure, and reading about it instantly creates the effect of audience transference (big word to give the illusion that I actually know what I'm talking about). So readers are hooked before the exterior conflict is even dramatised.
Let's take a look at Twilight's opening paragraph:
My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. I was wearing my favorite shirt – sleeveless, white eyelet lace.
My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down.
Since the target audience is a group of teenage girls, you've already thrown 90% of readers into a situation they probably experience all the time: being with Ma.
I was wearing my favorite shirt – sleeveless, white eyelet lace.
And here goes the slightly odd dress sense. All those teen girls, who struggle to fit in, now have a soulmate in the form of a cold emotionless inky page. How nice for them.
My mom looks like me, except with short hair and laugh lines. I felt a spasm of panic as I stared at her wide, childlike eyes. How could I leave my loving, erratic, harebrained mother to fend for herself? Of course she had Phil now, so the bills would probably get paid, there would be food in the refrigerator, gas in her car, and someone to call when she got lost, but still…
Of course, no ride with Ma would be complete without a tang of matricidal angst. Teenagers who have problems with their parents, as in all of them, have yet another thing in common with the main character.
I could go on...
Fine, I will.
Pointless And Boring Conclusion
All of these ultra popular books, all of them, sell because they are specifically engineered to say what the audience would say. The MCs are Frankenstein's characters, who think only what most people would think, but never think enough to run the risk of having an opinion not supported by the 99%. That's why these characters are so flat: it's intentional, it's what makes them so damn successful.
So take what you will from a guy who knows nothing, or feel free to post a reply/argument/whatever. Actually, let me ask you a question...
If you agree, how could we merge the idea of a populist MC, with all the personality of a cardboard doorknob, with a well written story?
Happy writing!
Submitted July 29, 2015 at 02:53AM by ThatThingOverHere http://ift.tt/1fEQ0YT writing
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